Shhh . . .
thru stately trees
green glistening fronds.
Inhale. Breathe in deeply.
Fresh woods’ scent fills lungs.
Eyes shut, listen to forest sounds.
Birds sing, scamper, dart overhead.
Shrubs swish softly as critters scamper.
I’m hosting Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the vitual pub for poets. The challenge is to write a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. The poem must include the word “tranquility” (or a form of the word) within the body of the poem. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
Did you know, according to a British Council’s survey of 40,000+ people from 102 nonEnglish speaking countries, “tranquility” is the tenth most beautiful word in the English language?
Photo taken on our visit a number of years ago to the Crosley Estate in Cincinatti, Ohio.
Rocking my soul,
surrounded by lush forest
as lazy loons float upon the lake.
Leaves rustle occasionally
while wooden slats creak
back and forth,
back and forth.
My soul dozes carefree,
enveloped in Adirondack calm.
Posted for dVerse, Open Link Night Thursday. Photo from our recent family reunion in the Adirondacks.
Like a peregrine
caught in a tailspin,
to find calm within.
To escape the din,
seeks his lover’s inn.
Ah sweet nest of skin,
Form of poem is a Lai: nine-line stanza with syllabic and rhyme requirements as follows:
line 1: 5 syllables, rhyme word a
line 2: 5 syllables, rhymes with a
line 3: 2 syllables, rhyme word b
line 4: 5 syllables, rhymes with a
line 5: 5 syllables, rhymes with a
line 6: 2 syllables, rhymes with b
line 7: 5 syllabkes, rhymes with a
line 8: 5 syllables, rhymes with a
line 9: 2 syllablesm rhymes with b
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets.
Photo from pixabay.com
Child of the moon, wed to earth.
Mossy slippers quiet her step.
Willow frond skirt swishes in breeze,
natural scent blends with trees.
Seek her healing balm
amongst urban parks, forest glens.
Or retreat within your mind,
savor soothing rivulets of calm.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets where it’s Quadrille Monday. Kim is our able and creative pub tender. She asks us to use the word “earth” in our exactly-44-word poem. Photo taken on our trip to Ireland. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
Inherited from her,
the quick-to-explode gene.
Eyes down, fists clenched,
we stood silently passive
until the flame was spent.
Her sudden verbal lashings,
fury flung horiffic words.
Perhaps, in those moments,
I learned to control anger.
But she can fester within me.
Like termites gnawing
eroding the core of sanity.
Seek a good. A beautiful.
Take up pen and feel the script.
The flow. The ebbing.
I am not her.
Not that way.
I will it to be so.
Quiet resounds here.
Time reined in, schedules disappear.
Low tide reveals sand swirls,
lazy etchings from past eddies.
Once afloat in deep water
languid sailboats rest askew,
moorings draped in dripping sea grass.
Plover chatter creates far-off natural hum
occasionally interrupted by a raucous gull.
Sipping coffee in a slight ocean breeze
my mind wanders,
savoring the serenity of this place.
I’m hosting Tuesday Poetics at dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets. Prompt word/s: rain, rein, and/or reign. Folks are invited to use one, two, or all three of these words. The one caveat is the poem must have a positive bent. Come join poets from across the globe — we’re a friendly bunch so would love to have you participate! Pub opens at 3PM Boston time. And yes, I’m in our beloved Provincetown, at the very tip of Cape Cod, Massachusetts. Two glorious weeks in this beautiful place. Photos from our deck. Feet are from a few years back…but others are from yesterday and today. It’s a special place in the off-season.