Snowbird–Frank Tassone’s Haiki Challenge #32

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Photo Victoria Slotto

winter in warm clime
mockingbird bird sings joyfully
new life mimics spring

A late submission to Frank Tassone’s Haikai Challenge #32.

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Frank Tassone’s Haikai Challenge 021418

021418 

young blood spilled
near new moon waxing crescent
love blooms in ashes

Written with heavy heart and linked to Frank Tassone’s Haikai Challenge #20. God be with all those who are suffering in Florida.

Photo; ABC News

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.

Awakening–dVerse Qudarille Monday

Awakening

First sun scrapes its way
through dense pewter clouds,
scatters dreams.

Shadows of bare branches
pour through gauzy curtains,
spill onto the white comforter.

The poet stirs, collects
words that leap from
darkness into wonder.

Freshness dispels entropy;
can hope endure, linger?
Even thrive?

Photo: Victoria Slotto

Happy New Year to all my poet friends. Busyness has overwhelmed me, and although the next few days will be quite challenging, I long to write more. So, today, I’m jumping in to dVerse Haibun Monday, where we are writing poems of exactly 44 words, excluding title. Today’s prompt requires us to use the word LEAP. Please join us. The prompt is open all week. I will return comments, but most likely not until the end of the week. Be blessed in 2018.

This Tunnel Has No Light at Its Ending

This Tunnel Has No Light at Its Ending

Black notes hang
in a barren equinox sky,
fade into a cry of
wonder that echoes
as though in a dark tunnel.

You balance the cup
of deep water before
a moment of stolen hope emerges
then abandon yourself
to pure gravity

before ripping apart the
warm core of your being.
Can you taste
the texture of wind,
that carries cries of forgiveness.

The memory of a crowing
cock haunts you
constantly, doesn’t it?
Life ebbs slowly when you
break your promises.
Doesn’t it?

Today, I am hosting for dVerse Meeting the Bar, Critique and Craft. We are playing with symbolism as used in poetry and literature. Can you identify the emotion I am attempting to express in this poem–a very old one that I rewrote?

Photo: racrapopulous” Free Usage

sunday morning–dVerse Quadrille

Caption: Victoria Slotto

sunday morning
(in the manner of Chinese wilderness poets)

snow dusts silent earth
branches bow beneath its touch
cedar wax wings descend to berry filled trees

moon drops behind Sierra
morning sun stretches lazily
paints sky in hues of rose

frozen grass crunches beneath feet
distant train signals crossing
hope hides in shadows

Welcome to dVerse Poets Quadrille this week–my favorite prompt! Today De is asking us to write our poem of 44 words, no more, no less (excluding title) within which we will include the word “crunch.” I’ve just begun reading “Mountain Home: The Wilderness Poetry of Ancient China,” translated by David Hinton.  I suspect that, little as I grasp of it, there will be some influence in my writing. Do you feel a sense of emptiness?

Please join us at the pub with your 44-word crunchy poem. The doors swing open Monday at 3 PM EST.

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.