Watercolor
I chose Payne’s Gray
instead of black.
It’s not quite death—
more like a nightlight
in the next room.
Submitted to One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry: http://onestoppoetry.com
Watercolor
I chose Payne’s Gray
instead of black.
It’s not quite death—
more like a nightlight
in the next room.
Submitted to One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry: http://onestoppoetry.com
And I Will Die
On that morning
birds will shatter stillness
chant their purty, purty, purty
languish in the heady scent of citrus blooms
On that morning
light will slip through gauzy curtains while
dust motes dance, abandoned to
the whisperings of April’s breath
On that morning
clouds will roll in like frothy waves
stretch to lick the azure sky
dissolve into fragments of remembrance
On that morning
alone in the first kiss of dawn
I will die
and live again.
Previously posted and today linked to One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry: http://onestoppoetry.com
i
trees know
to bend with the wind
otherwise they will snap.
ii
in the winter
trees seem to die
that is when
they send down roots
a lot happens
beneath the surface
iii
some people are like trees
they reach out
comfort
provide food
shelter
beauty
iv
others
like some trees
are invasive they
choke
stifle
lesser life forms
v
trees
like some people
survive
without a lot of attention
nature provides
water
food
sometimes if they are weak
they need support
now and again
you have to prune
dead branches
vi
if you plant a tree
you are responsible for it
make sure you choose
with care
it like adopting
a child or
a pet
due diligence is needed
before you commit
vii
everyone should have
a special tree
to hold in memory
a place to go
when you are
afraid
tired
lonely
in that way
a tree is like
a mother’s lap
viii
once you put down roots
you will grow
if you become at one
with your place in life
ix
learn from trees
even though they have differences
they are all trees
they belong together
x
trees are like families
sometimes
they have to give way
to make room
for one another
xi
even though trees
come in many different colors
they are still trees
contrast makes them
stand out
outstanding
xii
when you puncture
a tree’s trunk
with nails
it will bleed
when you puncture
another’s heart
with words
it too will bleed
xiii
in time trees
like people
will die
to make room
for new life.
I’m linking this poem to One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry: http://onestoppoetry.com The inspiration came from a prompt posted by Brian Miller on that same website for Friday Poetically. It is based on the art of Alison Jardine, the artist behind the image above. For some truly amazing art, visit her site at http://alisonjardine.com This poetry is also reminiscent of a form of poetry perfected by Wallace Stevens.
After the Rain
Diamonds settle on mounds
of Dianthus while
sparrows splash with joy
in sparkling puddles.
Fresh scents suffuse morning
light: lemon
honeysuckle, spice.
Verbena and persimmon.
Today, I touch the moment
but think of yesterdays
when once we walked
in rain and sand beneath
a canopy of stars
we tried in vain to count.
The promises you made
did not endure forever.
And now, alone, I ponder
life transformed by dew.
Taste the sweetness of
tomorrow and a memory.
Linked to One Stop Poetry’s One Shot Wednesday: http://onestoppoetry.com where, if you take the time to browse, you’ll discover some wonderful poetry.
i
Purple bruises bleed
into summer’s sky
sun sighs and succumbs
ii
Summer dilemma
green can’t decide what to wear
too many choices.
iii
Blue heron descends
splashes in cobalt water
revels in June warmth
Linked to One Shot Wednesday: http://onestoppoetry.com
Here’s another attempt at an Octain, a poetic form created by Luke Prater and linked to One Shot Wednesday: http://onestoppoetry.com/
Untitled Octain
How many lives are spent in vain,
too conscious of the voice of fear,
thoughts muddled so that sight’s unclear.
They creep through days avoiding pain
or, warped by hate, they learn too late
to trust that love should ever deign
to visit them and draw them near.
Too many lives are spent in vain.
Blessing Way
Wind curls around a corner of the lodge,
brushes her cheek like a lover,
tousles night-black hair.
Pungent-scented paper-whites bend lower,
touch loamy soil,
prepare to die.
Earth stretches to embrace daybreak,
surrenders flecks of frost,
drinks in warmth.
Facing East, raising a weathered face
into early light,
blessing creation,
Wisdom Keeper lifts her
outstretched arms,
and sighs.
Submitted to One Shot Wednesday: http://onestoppoetry.com/
Submitted to One Shot Wednesday: http://onestoppoetry.com/2011/03/one-shot-poetry-wednesday-week-39.html
Early Spring
A Haiku
This morning’s sweater,
abandoned by the window,
soaks up warm rays.
Near-winter dampness invades the room,
infects our space, lingers in the air like
twinning wisps of frigid breath and
smoke from your cigarette.
You cannot speak or won’t.
Perhaps you heard me. Maybe not.
Or did you seal your ears against the sound
of my newfound understanding?
By the ice-etched window, quiet still,
you stand, scratching petroglyphs
with your fingernail, eyes fixed on a quail
huddled in the branches of a juniper.
Remembering how I wept
when first I read those words,
(only a girl, I could not comprehend
an ending without joy) I sigh.
And though you do not say them now—
not my dear, nor brutal acclamation,
silence screams across the room. It’s true,
you do not give a damn.
But unlike Rhett, you stay—
a witness to hope’s dying whisper.
You do not stir the embers struggling
to give warmth. Our fireplace goes cold.
Submitted to One Shot Wednesday: http://onestoppoetry.com/
Originally submitted to SiS’ Daily Haiku Challenge: http://pendownmythought.blogspot.com/ Now linked to One Shot Wednesday: http://onestoppoetry.com/
Ecstasy
Early morning joy
a touch of Spring erupting
nature joins the dance.