autumn exhales a deep breath
as feeble leaves lose their grip
whispering sweet farewells
to nurturing limbs
I watch them cradle-rock
to the pulse of Mother Earth’s song
silently sweeping, weeping
but bravely repelling
the magnet of years past
finding new ways to grow
It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse Poets Pub.
Write a poem of 44 words not including the title, including the word “magnet”.
De is our host.
waves are winking, teasing
making my heart sing silly
each one feeding the void
I am soaked, featherweight
vulnerable, alive
this infinite lake
will swallow you whole
if you let it
I let it nibble
A pier in Lake Michigan. Key word “in” as the Great Lakes hit record high water levels.
Join us for Open Link Night over at dVerse Poets Pub.I am your host. Doors open at 3 p.m. EST.
I remember swaying to the cricket beat
As midnight moon spilled her light
Grass-tickled, pickled with dreams
Free falling into the raven-black night
Dreams fizzle and fade like stone-grey tides
I am still star-stunned, staring at the skies
And as I embrace this velvety void
My heart will still dance with the fireflies
“Darkness came, full of moths and beetles. I was oppressed by the velvety emptiness of the word and swathes of soft grass. Then the fumes of the night put me to sleep”
– As I walked out one Midsummer morning –
Laurie Lee
A late response to Laura Bloomsbury’s Poetic prompt,
” Literary Alchemy with Laurie Lee”.
I am pleased to be your host for Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub.
Share one poem and indulge in the wonderful work of other poets.
I have peddled my pain
to the wind
sifted and sorted my sins
burrowed down deep while
the storm passed
I am earth-toned and wild
nature’s own child
sun-smitten
star-bright and steadfast
made of blessings and blunders
I refuse to go under
this life was born of my rubble
I am not trouble
I am evergreen whispers
dewdrops at dawn
weaves of ivy out of control
sassy saplings, trees of old
I am whole
Originally written for “Women Speak”, a project by Nancy Smith. I was inspired by her beautiful painting, “From the Depths of Earth”. To see more of her work, visit
Join us for Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub! I am your host.
Follow me, child
Phoneless and free
Where earth sings
Songs of your roots
Ancient and pure
Pluck stars from indigo skies
Put them back into your eyes
Decorate your pale skin
In leaf shadows and sunlight
Relish in the riches
And blessings of nature
It’s Quadrille Monday and Kim is our host. She has offered us the word “rich” to incorporate into a 44 word poem, not including the title. Join in the fun!
Crow flies, dark-voweled tongue
Heaven-circling for day’s prey
I lay here miffed and muffle-toed
At the caw of the wild
His bell-voice, nothing left to imagine
But another scythe-eyed squawk
I’d rather be lark-high in the maples
Moon-blown and star-struck
Slightly enlightened
By the ogle of the owl-light
For Open Link Night hosted by Frank and a late response to Poetics: love the words by Laura Bloomsbury. She asked us to use at least four of Dylan Thomas’s hyphenated compound words and any amount of his other literary techniques. Image credit: pixabay.com
In winter’s doom, the rain awaits
For torchlight moon, to rise, elate
A myst of diamond pellets prance
Begins in waves, accumulates
In dreams of green and blossom blast
Awakened by the snow of last
We shiver, quake in arctic breath
And slip and slide to portals past
In response to “Poetics: Games Night” where Sarah has asked us “to choose 3 names from the list of computer game names below, and somehow or other wrangle them into a poem.” I have incorporated five of them into this Rubaiyat, which I will also link to our most recent challenge in Poetry Forms.
Notes: The rhyme scheme is AABA. I did not choose to use the unrhymed B line sound from the first quatrain as the main rhyming sound in the next quatrain, therefore it is not interlinking. This is an option for the form.
This wild and precious life, you spent lonely
Foraging mushrooms, blackberries…and words
Still you have me pondering not only
On the calm of nature and nature stirred
But on the very essence of each breath
As trees speak my truth in leafy tongues, slurred
The sun meets my skin with every step
And the blue rain beats with my heart, broken
I’ve treasured your thoughts about life and death
Listened to canyons speak the unspoken
I have studied art on the earth’s floor
Weightless as the willows, with mind open
One with the animal spirits, I soar
Your words waxing with the moon evermore
(For Open Link Night and a late response to Jilly’s Enjambment in Sonnets, part of the Poetry Form challenge at dverse Poets Pub.)
Notes: I chose the Terza Rima form for this piece, consisting of a ABA BCB CDC DED EE rhyme scheme, adding a splash of enjambment. Since the thoughts of each tercet often flow into the next, I decided on leaving no line breaks between them. However, it could be edited into defined tercets, ending with the couplet to present it in traditional terza rima form. I would have to admit that the volta is not emphasized. I simply wanted to pay tribute to the late Mary Oliver, her love and insight of nature and how it has resonated with my own perspectives of life.
Morning breaks my slumber in splatters of freezing rain
Delicate coatings of glass mimic my window pane
If only the world would pause, feel this moment contained
But our thoughts run wild like the tainted river unchained
For Poetry Forms at dVerse, featuring The Rubaiyet. Fellow pubtender, Frank Hubeny brings us the history and characteristics of the form.
Notes: My first dabbling into this particular form so I’ve begun with one quatrain, known as a “ruba’i . I chose the option of the AAAA rhyme scheme and the original meter of 13 syllables per line. The pattern of accented syllables varies between lines.
I gather dreams here
where withered leaves lay steepless
seesawing on the surface
of the pond
blue heron freezes for the hunt
I watch his stilt legs bend slightly
swift snap, a sun-blessed breakfast
fish wriggles before the great swallow
my dreams are cast
It’s Quadrille time at dVerse Poets Pub. I am pleased to be your host as we “steep” 44 words into a poem. Join us at 3 p.m. EST
The view is woodsy from my favourite part of the couch. Streetlights are still on as dawn sheepishly reveals itself outside my window. I resent January with it’s epic entrance, bursting with expectations. It falls short in the shadow of Christmas and I see only grey. The dulling pavement of my street is a reflection of the skies above. Neutral and speechless. Blank and waiting. One grey squirrel clambers up and down the giant maple. I tap on the window. He looks at me curiously, then continues on his quest for hidden peanuts. Someone has been feeding him. I admire his fluffy tail and his simple life. My solitude is broken by that car with the noisy muffler and I wonder why Santa or someone similar did not replace it. I take another sip of tea, breathing in the new year.
sun in cloud coma
ashen earth begs for first snow
squirrel pays no mind
I stand starstruck
Inhaling the unknown
Surrendering all that is logical
To Luna’s light
You pinpoint planets
That I’ll never know
That I’ll never remember
And never want to
Turquoise skies blend into ebony
Over mesa horizons
Clouds give a glorious wink
Before caressing canyons
Raindrops tease in random spurts
Glossing earth’s parched lips
Dust rises in protest
Then succumbs to the deluge
Dampening desert dreams
I inhale the petrichor
And the moment
Its Quadrille time! Write a poem of 44 words, excluding the title. De is our host and her chosen word to include is “wink”. Join in the fun at dVerse Poets Pub.
Image credit: pixabay.com
In the heart of autumn
I watch the thunderheads
Shading skies in charcoal
As retro rain of spring
Spits in rebellious spurts
Does it hurt to be compliant
And follow season’s rule-book?
Or is Mother Nature bored
Tired of the yuck of it all
For De’s Quadrille prompt over at dVerse Poets Pub. You can “Q” it too!
Just write a poem of 44 words, sans title, including the word “yuck”.
Image credit: pixabay.com
Sunflower stuns in season’s end
Transparent as secrets of summer
Undeniable beauty bows to earth
Vowing warily to return again
Woodpecker chuckles between mouthfuls
Xiphoid petals wilt and wonder
Lillian is hosting “Meeting the Bar” at dVerse.
She has asked us to write an “alphabet sestet” using a six letter sequence.
Feel free to join in!
In awe I stand
Feet steadied upon
Emerald cliffs
Inhaling breath of sky
Heart-quickened, earth-smitten
Tickle of sea mist on my tongue
I surrender thoughts to the waves
Trundle with ocean’s tide
Erasing all but this moment
Time still…. (passes)
Each second a blessing
Written for De’s Quadrille prompt , “Quick! Write Something!”
It is our first morning in Newfoundland. We settled in late, the night before to an eclectic vacation rental in the small community of Southport. Population 40. We want to experience the true local life of the most eastern province of Canada. I open the door to see our surroundings in daylight, barely breathing the salty air on the bay, when I hear the sound of a four wheeler, kicking up gravel in it’s path. A middle-aged man stops in front our door. “Hello! How are you doing? Staying at Peggy and Viv’s are ya?” He shares stories of the land, the people and the fishing industry. He says he will never leave “the rock”, this magnificent island we’ve come to explore. He’s ventured out to bigger dreams and cities, but this is home. It’s different here. He’s already convinced me it’s better here. He offers a word of advice to us. “Don’t worry about crossing boundaries or walking across the neighbour’s properties. The worst thing that can happen is they’ll invite you in for tea.”
My eyes wander a bit to take in my surroundings. Colourful little buildings called “stages”. Rocky shorelines and fog in the distance. He tells us of a 90 year old woman visiting the area. She asked him to take her out on the ocean to see the sights and he willingly obliged. Then his voice becomes shaky with emotion. “She said to me, ‘Now I have seen heaven.'” He puts his hand on his heart. “I will never forget her face and those words”, he says. I get the same lump in my throat, feeling the sincerity in his eyes. The conversation brings me back to a place of genuine simplicity. This is why I am here.
fresh breeze of August
eagle basks in morning sun
feathers set aglow
It’s Haibun Monday, everyone! The theme is “morning”. Hope you can join us at dVerse Poets Pub.
I am your host and the prompt is open all week.
I hear the rustle of reeds
Where meadow meets pond
Wails and yodels of the loon
The flit-flutter of dragonfly wings
I have powwows with the stars while
Luna spills stories into my cupped hands
The stoic oak articulates to me, his fears
And I stroke his tired skin
I heed to the beat of my own heart
And the steady rhythm of silence
But when words sail from your tongue
To faraway places
I am still learning
To listen
For this week’s Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub. I am your host and I am asking you to write a poem about something you are still learning. Doors open at 3 p.m. EST. Join us!
I arrive at the wetlands, bundled up for winter rather than spring. The trail beneath my feet is the same. The scene to either side is always different. One more cat tail swaying in the breeze or the entertaining sound of geese overhead making their semi-awkward landing on the pond. Where did they come from? How long were they gone? Who, pray tell is the leader and why? I don’t want to know the answers. I would rather be intrigued than informed.
My walks become my thoughts. That is the usual experience but today is different. I am walking for ten toddlers. Ten spongy toddlers absorbing new sights, sounds, textures and words. My mission is to collect six different pieces of nature. These will be used to fill six plastic bottles, at which point they become “sensory bottles”, an activity of visual exploration and appreciation for the earth. As my steps become automatic, my eyes scour the ground for interesting specimens.
Sticks in a mixture of earthen colours, evergreen sprigs with intricate needles, maple tree buds bursting, beach sand with driftwood and shells, a dried milkweed plant left open and exposed from winter’s freeze and finally, ten tiny pine-cones for counting. I imagine seeing these gifts for the first time through a two year old’s eyes. I head back along the trail’s paved loop. My pockets are full. My heart is fuller.
curious gosling
downy sun-kissed and wind-blessed
wide eyed and waiting
It’s Haibun Monday but this prompt is open all week! Bjorn is our host at dVerse Poets Pub and he has asked us to write a haibun about walking. Doors open at 3 p.m. EST.
Where did your light come from?
Did you ever moon gaze under muted skies?
Did nature stir your soul?
I picked a flower for you today and wondered
Watching white floaties sailing into
Dandelion dreams and it seems
We never touched on this
For Open Link Night. Grace is our host. It is a pleasure to welcome Sarah Connor to the dVerse team. She was our lovely host for this week’s Poetics , introducing us to the artwork of Fay Collins for inspiration.
Image credit: Fay Collins
I embrace the grey. Where pavement glistens in the rain. Where clouds paint every inch of sky in shades of loneliness. I am touched by the greys of nature, stones peppered in hues of silver, the undersides of lifeless leaves, glistening beach sand and broken twigs. My eyes wander off clear cut paths to spot the fluff of squirrels’ tails or the fringe of a bird’s feather now fallen. An ancient tree speaks to me in somber tones, begging to share his story. Does he remember the forest floors of ancient times? Or is it all a foggy blur? I caress the rough, dappled bark of a walnut tree. It’s ok. I’d love you anyway. Grey takes me to a place where black and white, wrong and right can mix and mingle into maybes.
dull sky, sparrow spies
the grizzle drizzle of grey
open wings take flight
It’s Haibun Monday, open all week at dVerse Poets Pub. Bjorn has asked us to consider grey as a subject for our haibun, ” to bring grey into a personal (non-fictional) piece of prose. Add to that a haiku (with season and nature)”. Feel free to join in with us.
In response to The Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge: Tour Guide
Welcome to a small town in southwestern Ontario, Canada. These are only two of our distinct and unique seasons.
Strong winds + bitter temperatures + river = masterpiece.
Sunset over lake + para-sail + sense of adventure = summer solitude.
We grew up here. The soft breezes of summer carry me from our white brick house to this place of solitude. My feet greet the weathered path, making the hollow, tapping sound I so remember. Again I wonder how this hard packed earth can feel like clouds under my feet….but it does. I love the tickle of tall grasses against my bare legs and how the skies match my eyes today. I still marvel at the delicate design of Queen Anne’s Lace as it stands stoic beside red clover. A grasshopper leaps ahead of me, dodging my every step. He has nothing to fear but I cannot resist the urge to pull apart a milkweed. The same silky threads still comfort me. I roll them between my palms and set them free. They dazzle like white satin in sunlight before the greenery embraces them.
My journey curves around a cluster of wild bergamot. I pause to inhale the scent of sweet citrus. Just ahead to the left of the trail I see the large crevice or “crater” as we called it. A place to pretend, when we used to do that. Golden rod bouquets border the path in brilliant yellow. I run my fingers along them as I pass. They seem to be early. Finally I reach the neighbour’s orchard where I once believed swiping a few apples was a major crime. “Run!!”, I remember saying to my brother. He just laughed at me….the way he always did.
nurtured by nature
summer silenced by the fall
some seeds will die young
Written for Haibun Monday
~ dVerse Poets Pub ~
The theme is “Hometown” and I am your host.
Doors open at 3 p.m. EST. Hope to see you there!
An Italian leather notebook sits empty at my bedside. A gift from a dear friend with an encouraging, handwritten message. The sun sneaks through wooden blinds just enough to illuminate dust particles dancing over it. I run my fingers across the engraved designs on the cover that seem to speak of great things to come. I look inside, as if expecting to find something that wasn’t there before. Between each fine line there is silence, words yet to be unraveled in garlands and strokes unique to me. A lovely pen waits for the warmth of my hands, but has lost all hope.
I type to the rhythm of my random thoughts wondering why this has become my only mode of composition. Somehow I have forgotten the crossing of t’s and dotting of i’s. I have left behind the curves and arches, loops and flairs. I have left behind a piece of myself.
frozen river breaks
mallard writes in cursive form
freed by early thaw
Written for Kim’s Haibun Monday. The theme of the prose is “communication through pen or pencil and paper, followed by a traditional Haiku that includes reference to a season.” You can join in too at dVerse Poets Pub. The prompt opens at 3 p.m. EST and is open all week.
Illuminate me
Chloro- fill my veins
Colour me in carotene
Kisses and sugar sap
Decorate my heart
With strands of starlight
Let me sail
Over moonlight memories
Pinstripe my path
In strokes of midnight
Before I surrender to the fall
Sun-shine my soul
Today I am hosting Poetics for dVerse Poets Pub and I am excited to share the photography of Sharon Knight at sunearthsky.com for our poetic muse! You are welcome to join in at 3 p.m EST.
I’ve found a new canvass
To draw on… and from
Sharing journeys
From bo(u)lder times
To monotonous erosion
To sun-kissed, self-loving
Soul-saving bliss
Rocking my freedom
Of direction
Perfection still wavering
Between the lines
And my mind
Colours conjoined
Words coined
Tedious, serious joy
painted rocks – Michelle Beauchamp
We are rocking the quadrille over at dVerse Poets Pub! I am your host and I hope you can join us. Write a poem of exactly 44 words including the word “rock”. The prompt begins today at 3 p.m. EST and is open all week.
The well worn paths of the forest floor feel like home to me. They are only a starting point to something more. Perhaps something no one has ever seen or touched. My feet often wander off trail to investigate a mossy log or to find that magical spot where land meets water. I pick up rocks for future painting, caress the bark of an old oak tree and savor the scent of dampened leaves before the first snowfall. I look for the smallest of creatures, putting nature under a microscope. I know he’s out there…..somewhere but I have not yet encountered the silent flier. Natives of the Chippewa tribe call him “Gookookoo”. I have displayed calendar pictures of him on preschool walls, spoke of him in simple terms, but his magnificent eyes have never met mine. He lurks where I do not search. His screech has yet to reach me. Legend says that is a good thing.
muted feathers soar
over unsuspecting souls
deer mouse holds his breath
~
For Haibun Monday at dVerse Poets Pub.
Victoria is our host. WHO can join in? You can.
The prompt begins at 3 p.m. and is open all week!
Image credit: pixabay.com
Giggling green spring
Breathing bubble-bliss balloons
Grinning, shimmering, mmmmelt…..ing
Cue music!
Pepper-spiced clouds dance
Freely twisting, curling
Leaves flicker, fears drizzle
Lulling dawn
Hope-filled jars spill open
Sparking rosebud dreams
Journey’s scars echo in ghosts
Creaking shadows skip
To storm’s song
Whispering bliss
Stilled
A quadrille for dVerse. Grace is hosting and she has given us the word, “creak” to play with. This is week 43 for the Quadrille prompt. I challenged myself to use ALL the words.
I follow you
Flashlight in hand
Still dimmer than our hearts
Lake of infinity
Lapping to the rhythm of
Silence
Sandy-toed, sips of merlot
You whisper of satellites
Geosynchronous orbits
And how much you love me
Spicing my world
Peppering my skies
With stars
Join us as I host one of our favourite prompts, the Quadrille at dVerse Poets Pub. 44 words including the word “spice” or any form of it. Doors open at 3 p.m. EST. C’mon….get a little spicy!
Image credit: pixabay.com
I find my religion
in song and stars
not far from the dazzle
of dew drops at dawn
in chiseled red rock
set aglow by the sun
in the voice of the trees
that silence me
strokes of pastel
over indigo skies
moonlight shadows
that dance in my eyes
the strength of the spider web
in gale’s great force
and of course
it all feels magical
Paul is tending bar at dVerse Poets Pub today and he has us brewing up a little magic into our poems.
Want to read some enchanting poetry? Feel free to join in. Just wave your magic wand over this:
I am of you and you of me
Mingled blues upon the sea
Gentle sway of burnished brine
We fall and rise in tide, in time
We fall and rise in tide, in time
Gentle sway of burnished brine
Mingled blues upon the sea
I am of you and you of me
I am your Spring
Spindly, unspoken
Mending your dreams
Faded and broken
Sweet woodland grasses
Kissed by the sun
Nurture my soul
Teach me to run
Delve in my eyes
Of nature’s unknown
I hold your heart
I am your home
We are writing “From Nature’s Point of View”.
at dVerse Poets Pub.
3 p.m. EST.
Rainbowed, razzle dazzled
Poised upon lavender skies
Steady handed horizon
Sea swirls capped in stark white
Murmurs of mustard froth
Blends of blue
Southwestern hues
Neon dreams adrift
Image credit: pixabay.com
Written for Meeting the Bar. Bjorn is our host and he has asked us to take a closer look at impressionism to incorporate it into our poetry. We are painting with words. You can too.
Photo: Candace Kubinec
Sol
Shadows still play
On the path to peace
Veins of the vicious
Testing our strength
To reach for the light
Dodge the darkness
Stretch your arms
To the sun
Embrace the heart
Of humanity
Stay tuned next Sunday for our final post for Collaboration for Peace. This has been an amazing experience. We hope to pass on the torch of peace to you, that you will join in the power of creativity and kindness to inspire others.
Photo: Mish
Betterment
Let the past remind us
Not rewind us
Peace will bloom in
Soils of change
Winds of wisdom
Hearts enlightened
Let us not forget
That we are the rain
It’s a short drive to the park. Winter has made a whimsical return as if to poke fun at Spring. Snow powdered trees appear to float in rainwater lagoons. I throw my daydreams into placid pools and wish for sunlight. In the foreground, flakes fall melting instantly on a glass stage. In the distance, they unite to soften the woods with a whitewash. This portrait is life, mirrored and stilled by the indecisiveness of Mother Nature. I join in reflections of branches blurred and blended, losing myself in the scene.
Seasonal squabble
Geese ponder their homeward flight
Nature simply paints
Björn leads our Haibun Monday this week. He explains two techniques, “ekphrasis” and “haiga” as we combine art and poetry.
Photo: Mish
Photo: Candace Kubinec
In Flight
Life me up
For I have spiraled, wingless
In whirls of worldly matter
That do not matter
Much to me
Cradle my heart
For I have stumbled, tumbled
To humble places
Grant me peace
And let me fly
Photo: mishunderstood.wordpress.com
Stones from a Glass House
It was just one pebble
Thrown in jest
No harm intended
And then one more
Hidden in soft words
Another disguised by
A smile
More and more were
Piled on top until
At last
Peace was smothered
Reach Up, Reach Out
I reach up
Spread my arms
To embrace the sky
The sky that looks
Down on every person –
Like and unlike me
Every person receives
Equal share of the day
And the night
The sun and stars
The moon lights the
Corners of darkness
Regardless of color or shape
Weeping or joyful
We’re all the same
I reach out
To embrace the world
That the sky looks
Down upon in peace
Barriers
we build walls trying
to define our space
outline the boundaries of
what belongs to us
construct tangled barriers to
keep others at a distance
so no one will know us too well
we assume a prickly air
attempting to protect our hearts
alone inside our armor of safety
we long for the touch of another
the understanding of a neighbor
the love of a friend
yet we are afraid to reach out
take a risk
seek peace
My little maple
Of glistening gold
Flaunting, fluttering as
Sol sister laughs
She knows wind is only
Teasing, breezing by for
One last kiss of autumn
The final dance before
The chill and I will
Cherish your leaves
As fall still breathes
Through winter
It’s Quadrille time again and we’d love for you to join us over at dVerse Poets Pub. As your host, I am asking you to write a poem of 44 words (not including the title) and your quadrille must contain the word…
b…r…e…a…t…h…e
or breath, breathtaking, breathable…any variation of the word
Doors open at 3 p.m. EST
Let Peace Flow
When you see sorrow
of another
Let joy flow from
Your soul
To cover the dark in light
When you hear hatred
toward a neighbor
Let love flow from
Your heart
To cover the hard in softness
When you feel the anguish
of humanity
Let peace flow from
Your mind
To cover the shattered in healing
The Beacon
Adrift I float
No gentle breeze
To send me home
only dreams
To guide me
To urge me forward
Through doubts and fears
I am not afraid
To travel on
Hope shines brightly
A beacon on the horizon
Photo: Mish
Photo: Mish
Doldrums and Dragonflies
Even in flight
I am not alone
Cradled
By the zephyrs
Warm embrace
This too is my calm
My inner field of felicity
Double-winged, I will sing
To the flutter of my heart
In shades of iridescence
I feel blessed to have met Candy, my friend in collaboration as we continue to be inspired by each others work. You can find more of her photography and poetry at rhymeswithbug.com
Oh my little sea anemone
I didn’t know your name
Or if your game included me
My intrusion, your confusion
My bucket list of fickleness
But somehow I knew
I knew you would reach for me
The first time I touched you
Sea anemone, Laguna Beach
Written for Poetics: “first things first”. Kelly has returned for a visit and has asked us to write a poem about a first. This brief interaction was most likely a first for both of us.
Photo: Candace Kubinec
Nature sings to me
In melodies of sun
And baritone shadows
Harmony on forest’s floor
Echos of peace
Visit Candy at rhymeswithbug.com
Sometimes I like to
Dangle in dewdrops
Laugh hysterically in
Cynical times
Find a way to face
My own face
It is not always easy
To celebrate
Life
~
Life
Is to celebrate
I will face my own
Cynical times
I will laugh at myself
Yes, hysterically
Because sometimes
It is easy to dangle
In dewdrops
Written for Walt’s poetic prompt, “A Cause For Celebration”.
Come celebrate with a poem over at dVerse Poets Pub.
Herons? Yes, I see them often…from a distance. Familiar sights on regular hikes through marshlands and parks. They appear to me as a privilege, preening on a rock amidst the reeds or sailing overhead in glorious flight. Grey. That is common or sometimes a Great White Egret, with plumage of an angel set aglow by the sun. It is always enough to slightly dazzle me. Today I am given a gift. From the top of the bridge that arches over a murky green creek, I stand only a few feet away from him. Staring motionless at the water with one leg spindly and bent, he waits. He waits more patiently than I do. He cares not that I watch. I become a similar statue, camera in hand anticipating his next move. And there it is. Saaaa-nap! His elongated beak now holds firmly to a tiny wriggling fish along with an innocent leaf caught in the hunt. An ordinary day for him. I am a guest, if only to admire a great heron’s dinner.
leaves ride in ripples
twilight grants one last favour
over humdrum day
We are looking for the “extra” in the ordinary for Haibun Monday. Grace is our host and she has reacquainted us with the form. Hope you can join us!
Shadows are born
From breath of light
Betwixt the twigs
They play and meddle
Draping black veils
Over earth’s stage
This is where
Leaves spot dance
One last time
My heart dips
And sways
Between sweet
Sounds of sunbeams
And the monotones
Of solitude
Today at dVerse, De is our host serving up some quadrilles or Q44’s as we like to call them. She has chosen the word “shadow” that must be included within the poem. Join the fun!
Feather me, hawk
To help me see
Feather me, crow
Please balance me
Feather me, dove
To nurture and love
Feather me, bluebird
With joyful words
Feather me, eagle
To make me wise
Feather me, seagull
In freedom, I’ll fly
Feather me, falcon
To heal my soul
Give me my wings
To make me whole
A late response to Victoria’s poetic prompt, “Come Fly With Me”
It’s Open Link Night over at dVerse Poets Pub. Feel free to share a poem with us!
My days have suddenly become empty. Disconnected. As my feet take to the path along the pond, I am immediately transported to a better world, a wiser system of life. I am guided by the goldenrod that edges the marsh, layered by clouds that whisper October. Distant sounds of the highway become muffled and soon forgotten. My haven is solid. The sun starts to melt on the horizon, pouring liquid gold ripples across the water. They reach for me. I reach for my camera. As I look through my lens, a large swarm of gnats dance against the glow and I wonder how these lowly beggarly bugs can possibly steal the show…but they do. Hundreds of starlings arrive in what seems to be chaotic confusion, contrasting with their precision landings on swaying reeds. I start to climb the rickety wooden lookout and again curse at the park for not replacing the missing step. There must be other people like me that don’t like missing steps. Perched and ready, I wait for the geese, my constant. Usually the honking is outrageously loud as they begin their dissension, but I hear nothing but a few lonesome tootles. I wonder if they’ve found a new venue and why. The sun lays itself over the pond to bid farewell. Clouds become fuchsia pink feathers, a delicate distraction as the night sky slowly envelopes me. I question my instinct to leave. Am I afraid of the darkness even in the comfort of this paradise?
autumn winds waver
memories fade on still waters
sun dips into dusk
Written for “Haibun Monday: Winds of Change” led by Toni Spencer (kanzensakura)
Join us at dVerse Poets Pub
One of my favourite blogs is artpresciption.com by Beverly Dyer, an artist who works with acrylic, watercolour and mixed media. She is also a Certified Botanical Illustrator. I am always intrigued by her unique style. Beverly was so kind to offer her lovely work to me for some poetic inspiration.
Awake I am rooted
Tethered, duty bound
Muffled by the fog
In dreams I drift
Turquoise, featherweight
Mellowed by earth’s song
The wind took my words
To cradle, now churning
Twisting and turning
Filtered the facts
Flicked lies at my back
S t r e t c h e d and sizeable
Unrecognizable
The wind took my words
If I could take the blue of you
And blend it with the mauve of me
I think that somehow we would be
A garden made in heaven
Images © beverly dyer
Poems by Mish
Photo: Mish
If you are so authentic
Then why are you so mystical?
Caught between the muse
Of actual and magical
If you are so luminous
They why am I so blind
To a beauty so timeless
Celestial, sublime?
Undeniable and present
So classically placed
Are you oblivious to lovers
In awe of your face?
Moon beams and the man
It’s almost clichéd
Are you amused that I assume
That you will light my way?
Grace has us musing at the moon for Poetics. I wouldn’t normally re-post a poem, but I don’t believe I have shared this one with dVerse. C’mon over. Be inspired by the moon and some amazing poetry.
Burgeon
Seeded in the same soil
Some will bask in
Universal beams of light
Shadows lurk and twist
Not all hearts will evolve
To bear the fruit of peace
Nature’s details dance
To the music of the wind
Fancy fields of gold
~
Check out all the details for this week’s photo challenge at The Daily Post.
mishunderstood 