Photo: Wikipedia
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Dream
Last night I dreamt of
feathers and shape-shifting.
Today a wren perches on a naked branch
outside my window.
By afternoon
the tree is in full bloom.
I miss you.
De Jackson is asking for Postcard Poems, that is, poems of 12 lines or less, at dVerse Poetics. Please join us.
Photo: V. Slotto
a path, a block from us, that gives access to the river walk
Spring Saunters In
a Haibun
Four days of gentle, much desired rain and today the clouds part, allowing sun and fresh air to decant the earth. Our world is swathed in green—the new leaves unfurling on the ash and maple trees, the grass, growing so quickly you can hear it if you’re quiet enough. Flowers open their buds to drink deeply of rain drops still nestling in folds of colors: pink, purple, yellow—especially yellow.
At last, we set out for a walk, two anxious dogs eager to catch up on the neighborhood smells. We don’t hurry, rather stop to survey our surroundings, chatting about our own plans for the garden. Annuals and veggies, started from seed, wait for planting in the raised bed, soon to be roto-tilled, or the flower garden, already burgeoning with perennials. Along the road, dandelions dot yards with splats of color.
The breeze pushes cotton-ball clouds to the East, though west of us a few dark clouds still hover on the snow-capped Sierra Nevada. At last, water courses through the Truckee River, where last year only a trickle flowed out of Tahoe. We return home to Stellar Jays vying for a place at our feeder.
oriole returns,
flaunts orange against cobalt sky
spring walks in, he soars
Bjorn hosts Haibun Monday today and the theme is Walking. We would love to have you join us. The doors to the Pub open at 1500 EST.
Photo: D. Slotto
Photo: Victoria Slotto
Sevenling (Paradox)
Beneath branches of our rose-bush hides a tiny bud;
finch builds her nest in the dense foliage of the fragrant Jasmine;
mama duck hustles her little ones, taking cover under a low-lying shrub.
Hawk circles above in the cerulean sky, looking for prey;
dandelions pepper the lawn, scatter their seeds in swirling winds;
Bougainvillea bursts into an array of celebratory color.
In the East, snow mocks spring.
Linking this to Sanaa’s Prompt Nights, where we celebrate spring and to dVerse Open Link Night where we celebrate poetry and whatever else moves us. Please join us. You will enjoy both sites, I promise you.
Photo: David Kleinert
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seduction
our world, redolent with scent–
citrus, star jasmine
heavy, alluring
buds open
to welcome bees,
to welcome hummingbirds
drinking deeply
a pair of mallards nest
amid her fallen blossoms
wide awake at last,
earth sighs,
whispers a promise to spring
invites her song
across the water, satin wings unfurl
I’m no doubt late for posting this at dVerse OLN, but would like to give a heads-up. Pay a visit to refresh your thirst for poetry.
Today for dVerse Meeting the Bar I’ve asked that we write poems that focus on verbs. To do this I searched my archives for a spring poem–this one written in 2010 and have revised it to clean it up a bit with an emphasis on active verbs. The first poem is the revision.
Awakening Spring
Do you remember clouds
like white dogs bounding
across empty skies?
Or coupling dragonflies,
their wings shaved slivers–
moonstone-shimmering?
Nearby, leaves moldered.
Their smell mingled with
scents of sweat and love.
A chorus of crickets undulated
in an outdoor theater,
unabashed by our nakedness.
Grass scratching, breeze licking
aroused bliss,
foreshadowed tomorrow’s spring .
Photo: zenfolio
This is the original–not too bad as far as verbs, but a little wordy.
Spring
Do you remember the cloud
that looked like a white dog bounding
across the empty gray sky?
Or the coupling dragonflies,
their wings shaved slivers of
shimmering moonstone or fire opal?
Nearby, something moldered in dank earth.
Its smell mingled with
the scent of our sweat and sex.
A chorus of crickets undulated
in an outdoor theater,
unabashed by our nakedness.
You told me to get on top because
the grass beneath our blanket scratched me.
A breeze licked my body.
Do you think that it was love?
Or maybe because tomorrow would be spring.
I invite you to join us at dVerse since this is my last time hosting…at least in the foreseeable future. I’ve assumed the role of caregiver for a while. And that’s what enduring love means for the long haul.
Photo: V. Slotto
a Haiku
Nature’s perfection—
symmetry and color play
under springtime skies.
National Poetry Month–Day 19
Photo: V. Slotto
beneath the old oak
dandelions ravish spring
splashing gold on grass
splishing yellow paint
in the old oak’s living room
dandelions dance
dandelions sprawl
rollick in spring rays of sun
stalwart oak looks on
Day 9 of National Poetry Month
Image: batool.com
Tomorrow is the first day of April…April 1st, April Fool’s day. A day that conjures up images of trickery and laughter, thoughts of April showers, tulips, spring in all her glory, pastel colors, bunnies, nestlings and so much more. For many who drop by this site, the celebration of poetry takes center stage as, In North America (and across the globe, thanks to the Internet) we celebrate National Poetry Month, 2014. Here’s a little blurb from Poetry.org:
Inaugurated by the Academy of American Poets in 1996, National Poetry Month is now held every April, when schools, publishers, libraries, booksellers, and poets throughout the United States band together to celebrate poetry and its vital place in American culture. Thousands of organizations participate through readings, festivals, book displays, workshops, and other events.
National Poetry Month 2014 Poster–poetry.org
April fool that I am, I always make the resolution to write a poem a day–not an easy, perhaps even an unrealistic goal for most of us. Life has a way of interfering. I’ve signed up for, but never succeeded in NaPoWriMo. I’ve participated in Robert Brewer’s Challenge on the Writer’s Digest blog and came up just short of the goal Perfectionist that I am, I get discouraged if I don’t get it just right. But, if I look back at the results from previous years, just by giving it a try, I’ve written more poems and, often, better poems during the month of April.
So this year, I’m aiming to accept limitations. I would like to write more poetry, or even edit existing ones. I’ll try to post a few each week and add in some prompts from time-to-time. Haiku, American Sentences and other short forms work well and demand conciseness, support precise imagery and open up our poetic eyes. Here’s hoping that each of us finds a way that fits lifestyle and time needs. Let’s make this a month to revel in our art–to read and write poetry!
What are you doing to make April a celebration of poetry?
Photo Credit: FairyPoet.com
Honeysuckle sweetness twines
wild roses, waning now beside
the cracked asphalt path.
Quail scurry, chase dandelion gold
nuggets of nature’s whimsy, hidden
between stalks of lupine, lunging upward.
Beside a lichen-crusted boulder
clover nestles in dew-drenched grass
while robins roust seeds of sunflowers
stretching toward their source.
Sunlight plays on the children’s smiles
as they weave daisy chains and dreams.
Linking to dVerse Poets Open Link Night. The title is a line borrowed from a Mary Oliver poem (which I’m still trying to find). It served me as the prompt for this poem. This is a fun way to get the muse on board.
The doors open Tuesday, 3:00 PM EDT. Hope to see you there.
Sun invades water droplets on the sago palm,
transforms them into kaleidoscopic riots of color.
Desert springtime tears apart expectations, time travels
us to summer before our neighbors to the North think thaw.
Last Thursday the finches abandoned our feeder, silenced
their morning prayers, turned Northward toward home, fledglings in tow.
Soon shall we follow—encountering yet again the flourish of rebirth
or, perhaps, another freeze before nature makes up her mind.
Written in Response to Claudia’s prompt for Poetics, but linked to OLN. Looking forward to visiting in a few hours.
Victoria C. Slotto, Author 