Bless You, Little Things

 

Photo: Victoria Slotto

Bless You, Little Things

I bless you, all you little things—
you gifts, ignored by humankind.

You, honey bees and tiny blooms,
Eight-legged spider in my room,

your lacy web and stealthy style,
you may stay here just a while.

I bless you, bird’s nest in our tree,
just cached beneath a bunch of leaves,

and wee blue eggs that nestle there,
concealed from Jays, yes, take care.

I bless the sun’s first ray of light
and slivered silver moon at night.

You, chipmunk, scurry ‘cross the grass
and disappear. You are so fast.

And bless the seed beneath the soil,
nature’s largesse to bring us joy.

I praise the Maker of all things.
May we find you in all life brings.

(Even earwhigs?)

Today’s prompt at dVerse Poetics, offered by Paul Scribbles, is to write a blessing, something our poor world needs now and always. Please consider writing one and linking it to our poetry community. A little something positive goes a long way.

Summer of Love–dVerse Poetics

 

Photo: Flickr
Labeled for Non-Commercial Reuse

Summer of Love
Signs of the Times

I could have been there, but wasn’t,
though this California earthquake
hit me harder than Loma Prieta
(and I was there, in the city, for that one.)

I’ve walked the hate Haight,
tossed flowers onto a pond,
inhaled once and choked,
joined a minority in my own
weird way, loved freely
in my own sure way.

But, I embrace our vets,
as well, while rueing war,
love my country, question
politics, splurge on gratitude.

The signs abounded; buttons led the way.

Is what we have now
really what we want?

When I opened the paper this morning (to barely scan the headlines and read the comics) I found an article on the 50th Anniversary of the Summer of Love (1967) that showed a photo of buttons with the many slogans that emerged.

Today, Mish invites us to muse on the many signs that surround us and I suppose these little buttons, which certainly set our culture in a new direction, may be acceptable for the prompt. Please join us with a SIGN that hits you at dVersePoets.

 

Wishing–dVerse Quadrille

Photo: Flickr–labeled for non-commercial reuse. The oldest pepper tree in California

Wishing

Stretch out with me,
beneath my peppertree.
Tickle, caress and coax
memories dormant within
to bring forth the scent of
peppertree-peace and youth-
full, joy-filled moments.
Our world craves love—
the love of a child who sees
beyond dross. Sunlight
dapples us with warmth.

A second poem for dVerse Quadrille where we use the word PEPPER in a poem of exactly 44 words, excluding title. I grew up in a home with a peppertree. As a child I used to hide in its wonderful branches.

The Spice of Life–dVerse Quadrille

The Spice of Life

Skin so smooth and firm
cool to touch, seductive.

Colorful, bright, diverse—
something to love in each of us.

Some, I know are hesitant,
afraid of what we’ll do to you.

Others enjoy us with abandon
savor our tempting aroma, our taste.

Zesty peppers.

Photo: Victoria Slotto

Oh joy! It’s time for dVerse Quadrille Monday. Today’s word to include in a poem of exactly 44 words, excluding title, is PEPPER! Please join us!

Golf–the Sport of Fools–dVerse Haibun Monday

Photo: David Slotto
A few years ago we were so lucky to win a trip to golf Pinehurst #2. I drove the green on Hole 16 but missed my 4 foot birdie putt. :0(

Golf— the Sport of Fools
a Haibun

If you are serious about golf, I recommend that you stay away from any opportunity to join a foursome of which I am a part. It will take me about three strokes to catch up with your drive. I’m too old and too skinny to do otherwise. Frankly, I doubt if I have an athletic gene in my DNA. Ask any member of my 9-hole golf league. Or ask my long-suffering husband.

Why do I golf, you may ask. That’s a question I ask myself each morning I awaken and know that I have a scheduled tee time. But as soon as I walk approach the tee box on the first hole, look down the fairway at an expanse of green surrounded by trees, standing like a guard of honor to welcome me, as soon as I hear the songs of mockingbirds, wrens (and even those crows just waiting to really mock me), and as soon as the words of encouragement of friends raise my spirits or I hit that unexpected long fairway shot or make that troublesome putt, then I remember. Plus, I’ve golfed with 90-plus year-old’s. How better to keep our older bodies agile and alive. When I post my score at the end of the round, I only pray that no one waiting behind to do the same is peeking over my shoulder.

my drive soars skyward
boosted on by spring breezes
sun breaks through the clouds

This week’s Haibun challenge at dVerse Poets, hosted by Bjorn, is asking us to write of sports. Well, the Warriors beat out Cleveland last night for the NBA Championship, and that makes me happy (Sorry, Cleveland cousins and other fans) but, lets just say I never excelled in any sport other than swimming–that happens when you grow up in Southern California. But there is one sport that does keep me moving, other than dog-walking. And now you know.

 

Blowin’ in the Wind–dVerse Meeting the Bar

Today, I’m hosting dVerse Meeting the Bar where I’m sharing a modern version of an old French form called the LAI (pronounced Lay). I would love to see you join in. The rhythm of the form begs me to be a bit whimsical although the original purpose was quite different. Lean more here.

Photo: Lansingwbu
Labeled for reuse.

Blowin’ in the Wind

So windy outside,
the birds seem to hide
in trees.

They just seem to glide
like kelp on the tide.
Strong breeze.

I will stay inside;
I think justified.
Oh, please?

how it rained–dVerse Quadrille

Photo: Wikipedia Commons

how it rained

the day you stormed into my life
earth flipped on her back
stared at daytime stars through leafy branches
and laughed

summer walks on ocean’s shore
scents of lavender, roses
gentle kisses and ardent promises

until the night you stole away
(how it rained)

Our Quadrille prompt at dVerse is to write a poem using exactly 44 words, excluding title, using the word STORM.