We walk quietly through hushed forest. Tree tops shimmer-emerald in bright sun. Shaded lower branches, more soft-hued green.
Leaves wave in gentle wind. Sunray flickers through foliage, forms mosaic patterns upon our faces, upon our soft smiles.
We slowly walk deeper into calm. Birch trees, conifers, cypress, scent of damp pines. Ancient sentinels of passing time.
Powerful strength towers above as delicate ferns and wildflowers thrive in earth beside our feet. We revel in balance before our eyes.
In the midst of raw beauty, we embrace. Feel strength course through our beings. We will be back again and again, witness to the healing of this place.
Dedicated to Rob and Kathy. Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.
Today, from 3 to 4 PM EST, poets from around the globe will meet LIVE, wth video and audio, to read aloud one poem of their choice, to visit with each other and lend their support to the creative endeavors of all. Come join us HERE and then click on the link provided for Thursday’s live session!
Can’t join us on Thursday?
We’ll meet again LIVE on Saturday, from 10 to 11 AM EST. Join us HERE and then click on the link provided for Saturday’s gathering!
Some days I’d like to be in the midst of fog. Where mountains, yesterday tall and imposing, disappear today. Where ethereal moist clouds descend to earth, enveloping her in softness. Bring me serenity, as mist hovers over land, hides imposing granite walls too difficult to climb. Soften my being with the lightest of rain that pours not, rather drifts in swirls round my head, my eyes, my limbs. Take me to that weathered landscape where nature cajoles hatred into oblivion, and we simply marvel at beauty we did not recognize before. Take me there, if not in reality, then in dense dreams of solace, just for a little while. I crave escape.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today, from 3 to 4 PM Boston time, we shall gather face-to-face via GoogleMeet at OLN LIVE! Link to join can be found here at 3 PM or shortly thereafter. Just click and come join us! You’re invited to read a poem of your own…or simply sit in and listen…we’re a friendly bunch and it’s quite fun!
Claude Monet tiptoed through last night’s deep slumber. Wrapped my dream in glorious blooms, hushed pinks fading into hazy purple iris. Calmed my senses with myriad brushed greens. Dewed my eyes as undulating water lilies nudged me into wakefulness. I sit remembering and smile.
Quadrille written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Mish asks us to include the word “wrap” or a form of the word, within our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title.
Today, we have a tough prompt; what I call a sudoku prompt !
We are to write a duplex.Like a typical sonnet, a duplex has fourteen lines. It’s organized into seven, two-line stanzas. The second line of the first stanza is echoed by (but not identical to) the first line of the second stanza, the second line of the second stanza is echoed by (but not identical to) the first line of the third stanza, and so on. The last line of the poem is the same as the first.The only part of the requirements I did not follow was the bit about the last line. I like the way mine ended as is.
Photos taken some years ago when we visited Glendalough in Ireland. An absolutely beautiful and serene place. Saint Kevin is an Irish saint, known as the founder and first abbot of Glendalough in County Wicklow, Ireland. His feast day is June 3rd. He was born in 498 AD. After his ordination, he moved to Glendalough to live as a hermit in a partially man-made cave. His companions were the animals and birds around him. He lived as a hermit for seven years, wearing only animal skins, sleeping on stones and eating very sparingly. Soon others sought him out as a teacher and holy man. Glendalough grew into a renowned seminary of saints and scholars. Until his death around 618, Kevin presided over his monastary in Glendalough.
Escape from blaring horns, nights filled with tossing, project expectations and stress. Been on two lane roads for quite a while.
Wayside diner beckons me. Apple tree shaded walk, bees buzz round fallen overripe fruit. I don’t even lock the car doors.
Inside, vases with brightly colored zinnias, oilcloth covered tables and comfy booths. Sheila sashays over with a pleasant smile. Nametag printed in thick magic marker.
She sets down a chipped porcelain mug, pours in dark rich coffee right to the brim. “What’ll ya have? Got fresh melon off the vine. Pies are apple and blueberry today.”
“Just the coffee for now.” She saunters back to the kitchen. I just sit. Between sips I run my finger slowly round the coffee mug’s lip.
I stare out the window. No deadlines hurtling at me. No internet connection. I may just sit here forever.
Coffee drips create brown splotches on my paper placemat menu. Chalkboard over the counter lists supper specials.
Pot roast with Betty’s gravy. Sounds good to me.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Tonight is Open Link Night and we are LIVE for the first hour, from 3 to 4 PM Boston time. That means you can link in, see friendly faces, listen to folks read their poems and, if the spirit so moves you, join in with a poem of your own. No prompt; no required form. Come join us! Image from Pixabay.com
Before this brick, concrete, two hospitals, Old West’s church steeple. My Boston’s high-rise views.
Before this seventh floor balcony, city walks. My outside.
Here, the ocean lives outside my door. Sun rises in pastel silence. Serenity lingers on the breeze. I can just be.
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for global poets. Today the word to use in our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title, is linger. Photos taken from our deck this morning in Provincetown, at the very tip of Cape Cod.