October’s full moon shines kindly in darkest skies, unobliterated by city’s glare. Gleams its bright spotlight upon Vermont mountains, hills and forest trails. Trees stand tall in fall crisp air, raucous cacophony of colors punctuate serene picturesque scenes. Leaves’ iridescent glorious hues, crimsons, burnt orange golden yellows, wine-reds too. They flaunt their beauty beneath your steady gaze, defying winter’s wish to cause their demise.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Sarah asks us to consider various names for an October full moon that she provides in a list. She explains that different areas of the US and indeed, different cultures, have different names for the full moon. I’ve chosen the name, Kindly Moon from the list.
Image of Vermont fall from Pixabay.comApologies: could not find photo of a full moon shining on a glorious fall Vermont scene. But you can definitely get the idea from this photo.
Beloved Provincetown, how shall I pen you? Sometimes mellow, sweet as honey, dew dripped fogged another day?
Your fickle Spring brings brisk winds, lean-into gusts that slow my steps on low tide walks along the shore. Horseshoe crabs spawn, two moving as one, leaving intricate trails on sand, caring not that I observe their intimacy.
Summer explodes in gulls and fireworks. Two and four-legged beach walkers skirt ’round children digging moats. Engorged tour buses relieve themselves. Nametagged visitors join throngs in streets as bicycles weave their way through maze.
Autumn brings sweatered afternoons, shorter ice cream lines, gardens’ last hurrahs, and fewer buskers on the streets. I stand alone in wool cap on deserted shore, marveling at the glory of an amber moon, light temptation for tomorrow’s palette of words.
When your Winters flaunt Nor’easters, remaining locals, few in number, tread quickly through snow-muffled quietude. Behind once busy Commercial Street in this, the most off of off-seasons, ocean’s rhythmic tides still reign.
The ocean, in fog or sun or snow, Provincetown’s constant gift, no matter the time of year.
Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today I’m hosting and asking folks to “compound me!”
I’ve provided a list of compound words in the prompt . (A compound word is formed by putting two root words together to form an entirely new word.)
Writers must choose at least one compound word from the list and use it in their poem EXCEPT, they must take apart the word! They can not add any words between the two root words nor can they add any additional letters to the root words. For example: moonlight: writers can put moon at the end of one line and begin the next line with the word light. Or they may, within one line, include the two words moon and light, with no other letters added to the words and no additional words between the two root words. They may however, add a punctuation mark between the two root words.
Confused? Here’s the two lines from my poem above, where I’ve used the words honeydew and moonlight, which are in the list:
Sometimes mellow, sweet as honey, dew dripped fogged another day? and marveling at the glory of an amber moon, light temptation for tomorrow’s palette of words.
I do hope you’ll join us! Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time and you’ll find the complete list of compound words there. Choose one or more and compound me! Or just stop by to see what others write. The more the merrier!
Photos from our annual two weeks in Provincetown over these past 22 years. We’re here until Saturday, and as you can tell from this poem and the last few I’ve posted, it is my muse. We are smitten with our beloved Provincetown.
Video was taken yesterday!! Did you know …. May is spawning season for horseshoe crabs. They’re not actually crabs. They’re chelicerates, most closely related to arachnids, such as spiders and scorpions. They’re consiered “living fossils” meaning they’ve existed nearly unchanged for at least 445 million years, well before even the dinosaurs!Amazing to watchtheir spawning. Our first time in all these years, coming in May….and then we find out it’s horseshoe crab spawning time!
Petulant nature angry at summer’s demise. Rain pelts. Thunder roars. Lightning cracks and flashes. Temper-tantrum stomping.
She pouts today. Glum gray overcast sky, like widow’s shroud. Hides distinct features, individual clouds indiscernible.
Cormorant swarm takes its leave. Thousands bob in ocean. Race forward, then streak to sky. Mass exit. Black shapes, like inkblots everywhere.
Provincetown deserters, just like tourists. Summer in their rearview mirror. Fading. Disappearing. Gone. Page turned.
Autumns’ quiet delights somewhere on the horizon, not quite yet in view.
Written for OLN at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Photo and video taken yesterday morning in Provincetown. Sadly, I didn’t think to get my phone to photograph and video tape it until the swarm’s mass had already passed … this is the tail end and it’s still incredible to look at these images!
corn-on-the-cobify me . . . tomatocize me. Plop raspberries on my fingertips only to pop one by one, into my eager mouth. It’s garden fresh summerliciousness time!
Sunny daffodils, wave your ruffled heads. Delicate cherry blossoms loosed by spring breeze, softly, silently, rain pink petals upon all below. Candy-cane red and white tulips stand tall beside double-layered pinks and yellows. Soon bleeding hearts will dangle gently over sweetly petite lilies of the valley. And lanes will burst forth with lilac blooms, myriad shades of purple perfuming the air. Bedazzle me, Mother Nature. I am so ready for your greening, most especially after this long reclusive year!
Written for Open Link Night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today we go LIVE at 3 PM Boston time and folks have the opportunity to visit, put faces and voices with author’s names and read aloud if they wish. Come join us! Link is on the dVerse site, at 3 PM Boston time.
Photos all taken around our building here in Boston, at the Public Gardens and at the Harvard Arboretum….in past years. Spring is still trying to green this year!
lilac buds compressed scent withheld, blossoms bashful spring has not yet sprung
Written for Day 2, National Poetry Writing Month where the challenge is to write a poem every day in the month of April. Photo taken in the Harvard Arboretum on Lilac Sunday, Mothers’ Day 2020.
Sun strengthens, pries loose snow mask from mountain caps. Water trickles, begins to overflow, swiftly runs downstream. ~ Gregarious tendencies stifled too long. Confined by lockdowns, hidden by masks from view.
Vaccinations bloom, propagate in spring. Sun strengthens as do we, spilling out to streets.
It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today Sarah asks us to include the word “swift” or a form of the word (not a synonym) in our exactly 44 word poem, sans title. Photo from Pixabay.com I fervently believe we are emerging from the season of Covid. Stay safe everyone and let’s insure this happens.
Temper tantrum entrance. High winds blow boisterously thermometer drops. Temptress sun winks coyly as crocus cower beneath cold soil. Impatient we are for spring.
Death rattles nearby cold winter has stripped trees bare. Branches jerk in wind create shadows in our room. I seek comfort in your arms.
Frank is hosting MTB at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today, he asks us to write a Japanese death poem which can be in the form of a tanka if we choose. He explains that a Japanese death poem speaks of imminent death but at the same time, extolls the significance of life. A tanka is similar to a haiku, but longer: 5 lines of 5-7-5-7-7 syllables.
lillian the home poet 