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.
Compass magnetized to truth, lead me to serenity. Through brazen brambles toward path with verdant ferns, emerald grass and sentinel trees. Close to streams unseen but heard. Soft swishes, trickles too, psalms in salient tranquility. Guide me through morass into a land of grace.
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the world. Today De is hosting and asks us to include the word “magnet” or a form of the word in our poem that is exactly 44 words, sans title. Photo taken a number of years ago on trip to see our niece in Ohio.
Serenity is all I need, a verb I can make be. Serenity is bliss.
Serenity is what color? Not raging red nor egregious green. Pastel me serene.
Serenity is far away, not freedom from the storm. Serenity is a firefly flitting out of reach,
on and off, off and on, reminding me. Serenity is a verb I can make be.
Today Bjorn is hosting MTB (Meet the Bar) at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. He prompts us to “use the google autocomplete functionality as a trigger to create lists to trigger poems . . . for instance what happens when I try to google ‘love is.’” In this case, I googled Serenity is… The lines italicized in the poem are some that came up with my query. Photo is from last year’s visit to our beloved Provincetown: no photoshopping…the sky looked like this! Color me serene.
Rolling hills, myriad shades of green. Drive slowly, windows open . . . Fresh crisp air, cloudless blue sky. Drumlins shaped patiently by glacial ice, Mother Earth’s gentle curves. Vibrant wildflowers here . . . flowering brush there. Stop. Rest. Inhale the quiet calm.
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. We are to use the word “drum” or a form of the word, within our exactly 44 word poem. Image from Pixabay.com
There is beauty in ash
as embers glow brightly.
Once sapling, resilient to touch,
life juices now almost gone.
Last moist quiet hiss
escapes crumbling sinews
as ashes join earth.
Glowing flecks break free
catch wind, flicker and float.
in darkening sky.
Posting to dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today I’m hosting the final Quadrille Monday of 2019. Quadrille: poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. I’ve chosen the word “glow” as the Quadrille prompt. Folks must use the word “glow” or a form of the word within the body of their poem. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Stop on by!
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.