dVerse Poetics–Independence

Photo: V. Slotto

 

Independence–a Haibun

Last year I gawked for hours as mother robin sat in the messy nest she and her mate constructed with care in the tree outside my office window. After a while, three hungry beaks appeared above the rim of their security—scrawny maws gapping, twittering, waiting to be sated. The biggest one bullied, grasped in greed for tender morsels and twitching insects. He fledged first and quickly left for good. A few days later, always watching, I saw the smaller ones, carefully coached, dare tentative leaps into the ether of their tiny cosmos. And finally they flew, abandoning the known for our back yard.

summer sings freedom
quaking aspen sheltering
life’s risky moments

The second day, broken hearted, I scooped up a tiny body. I couldn’t really scold my Jack Russell as she only followed her instincts. I wept inside, considering the cost of being free.

Joining my friends at dVerse Poets Pub Poetics where we are asked to write about what we see or have seen out the window. 

Of Fire–dVerse Poetics

Prometheus: Wikipedia Commons

Of Fire

i.

flame-fingers crest the summit

plunge into mountain crevices

cleanse, destroy

ii.

unruly flames

searing dancing restless

passion unleashed—

young love

iii.

a steady glow

warm, comforting

unhampered by winds of uncertainty—

old love

iv.

relentless burn within

waiting for words to emerge

from ashes

v.

his flaming forge

bore weapons of war

Prometheus unleashed

life and death

vi.

it takes but a spark

to ignite dry kindling

it takes but a word

to set the poet ablaze

vii.

below surfaces unseen

roiling seething anger

rouses Madame Pele—

eruption

viii.

dying flames flicker

vestiges of ember crumble

we sit before the hearth—

my love and I

silence suffices

 

To be Continued…

I’m happy to be hosting today at dVerse Poetics where I’m asking for poetry on the theme of fire. Please stop by, share a poem and sip some poems.

 

 

 

Desert Daze and Darkness

Dry Desert Daze and Darkness

She walked along a pathway
in her arid corner of desert,
desolate, alone. She knew
that Oleander had been
planted here, sheltering
the rich and famous who lived
in rich and famous homes—
homes (now abandoned after
years of rainless days.)

These dense shrubs tried to defy
the drought. Tiny flowers
of pink, white, struggled, straggled
to survive between limp leaves
whose color faded more each
year. A rattler seeking sanctuary
from sweltering sun slithered
away to the east. Disappoint
ment surged in her soul.

And so she grabbed a handful
of leaves and buds, headed home
with bravado and brewed
a pot of tea large enough for the
digitalis compound to do its part
to slow her heart. Slowly, slowly
slowly allowing it to steal life from her,
the life she gladly offered.

When she sat to drink the deadly
draught, her Maltese pup
snuggled at her side, his chocolate
eyes begging for a sip.

She couldn’t.
Could she?

gartenjournal
Labeled for Non-Commercial Reuse

A dark narrative poem for Bjorn’s Poetics Prompt at dVerse Poets. The Pub Master asks us to write a poem that has reference to a poisonous plant. It used to be that Oleander was used as a center divider on California highways and in the Country Clubs and such communities in the Palm Springs area as a privacy screen. It grows to be high and very dense. Every part of the plant is poisonous.

Let Freedom Reign

Let Freedom Reign
A Haibun

If physical death is the price that I must pay to free my white brothers and sisters from a permanent death of the spirit, then nothing can be more redemptive.
Martin Luther King, Jr.

(Read more quotes from Dr. King here. )

Image labeled for non-commercial reuse.

I believe that freedom is in the hearts of all, as is slavery. Those who are bound to beliefs that limit love and acceptance of others are ensnared. Freedom is within. It is not based on the color of my skin or yours. It is willingness to be open to others, whatever their race or ethnicity or their beliefs. Open wide my heart; set me free.

Mountain waters flow
curling around huge boulders,
free for thirsty souls.

Today, for dVerse Poetics, we welcome a new pubtender: Amaya. She asks us to write an epigraph poem, a poem about freedom or social justice that embeds a quote–that is, the quote itself unfolds in the course of the poem. I misunderstood the prompt–the embedding part, that is, so don’t, Do Not, follow my example. None-the-less, I will link this and in the meantime will see if I can do one correctly. I chose a quote from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., a Civil Rights leader who was assassinated in 1968. I remember that painful day clearly. His birthday was celebrated on the 13th and Monday was a holiday in his honor. This quote hit me deeply.

I will not make it to the pub till afternoon–same every Tuesday for a few months.

Still Water, Frozen Beauty

Photo: Sharon Knight
Darklings-2
January 27, 2015
Used with permission

Still Water, Frozen Beauty
a Haibun

We make our way down I-395, skirting the crowding of mountains, the eastern flank of the Sierra Nevada, to my west. I snake along, at a near crawl. Overnight, nature has painted her landscape in a wash of pristine white. The black granite peaks are creviced with whipped cream and, to my east, the desert valley is likewise blanketed, sketched with paw prints of various critters. Blackbirds on telephone wires huddle together for warmth.

Slowly, we crest the hill leading into Topaz Lake. She lies there, still, in hues of silver and turquoise. In contrast, a few late autumn trees still hold on to their intense orange leaves. I search for a place to pull off the highway in order to take photos, but southbound semis and black ice remind me that I know better. A flock of Canadian geese lands on the lake, sending ripples, creating texture on her mirrored surface. They etch the scene into my storehouse of memories.

Lake Topaz stretches,
clothed in shimmering satin,
beckons her lover.

Posted for dVerse Poetics, with deep gratitude to Sharon Knight Photography. Sharon has given us permission to use one of her photos for a poetry prompt. They are stunning.

Come Back to Me–dVerse Poetics

I’m posting this for Paul’s prompt at dVerse Poetics on the theme of Grace. Please be aware that I will not have Internet access for a few days, but will return visits here and for the Quadrille later in the week.

Image: Wikipedia Commons. Labeled for Non-commercial reuse.

Come Back to Me

Grace came like a feather
on a spring zephyr,
swirled restlessly in nature’s
flow before settling
(again) so gently within.

Who Are You? dVerse Poetics

Credit: ESA/Hubble; Raghvendra Sahai and John Trauger (JPL), the WFPC2 science team, and NASA/ESA  Used with Permission

Who Are You?

Stand in pregnant darkness
beneath a wind-stripped ash tree;
look up at emptiness.

Wrap yourself in a cloak of wonder.
Soak in mysteries of unknowing,
then look Within.

Joining up with the dVerse pub-poetic-prowlers and Lillian for this awe-inspiring prompt using photos from the Hubble Telescope. We hope you will join us here.

 

shoe markdowns you don’t want to miss–dVerse Poetics

Late, perhaps, for Kim’s prompt at dVerse Poetics: SHOES (or lack thereof). Within a few minutes of each other I read an article about Harvey that mentioned so many fleeing flood waters were without shoes, and then an ad that became the title of this poem.

shoe markdowns you don’t want to miss

she had no money
she had no shoes
the sign in the washed-
out store mocked her
mocked them all
she held her baby closer
huddled on the flatboat
riding flood waters
into an unknown future
more than she could say
for others

Image: Fox News

Sunrise, Sunset–dVerse Poetics

Photo: Victoria Slotto

Sunrise, Sunset

We stand on our deck, face north,
watch Sun rise in the east,
casting shadows on the west
flank of our garden.

This early we don’t need shade,
but shadows from our trees,
ash, maple and cherry,
practice for evening hours

when we shall yearn for shelter.
Before he sets, Sun flings
his fiery rays toward us.
Tomatoes bask in warmth,

begin to form fruit around
their fragile yellow blossoms.
Magenta lobes of the eggplant
dangle like pendulous breasts.

For our part, we unwind. Sun,
breaks through leafy branches,
casts rays through sweating glasses
of tawny chardonnay or ruddy merlot.

In the embracing shade of her boughs
I turn toward you. We watch as
Sun sighs, pulls a blanket of clouds
around his shoulders and hurls
himself over the horizon.

Photo: Victoria Slotto

Please join us at dVerse Poetics, where Lillian has us considering SHADE. And don’t forget the Haibun prompt, WABI-SABI, is open all week.

Outside Looking In–dVerse Poetics

Photo: Victoria Slotto

Outside-Looking-In

Was it like this my entire life
or only since the years stole
in and swept away beauty and desire?

I stand here, watching shadows
of youthful joy and folly,
longing for a simple touch

or even the smile of a stranger
passing by me in Wal-Mart
as I walk slowly, using my cart as a cane.

They are so busy with their lives.
They have things to do and families
to raise and who love them. You are gone

now, leaving me to this darkness,
Gazing at life unfurling before me.
Sitting on my porch, watching

through the another’s window,
nursing memories and fears.
Waiting for death.

For Poetics at dVerse, Lillian would have us look outside or inside a window. The poem I’ve written isn’t about me, but it is something I have encountered so very often working as a nurse with, for the most part, elderly patients. Though I don’t feel old, I know age is sneaking up on me, so I begin to look at things more often from the perspective of the elderly. Please, don’t forget them!