Destruction

Wikimedia Commons

Destruction

The clouds were charcoal
     before the storm
     before lightning whistled
     before the rain screamed.

Tree branches crackled
    dark chocolate cowered
    as they bent to the ground.
 
Silence shivered pungent grey
the crimson moment
    before earth ripped apart
    before debris flooded the sky.

The warning siren too late
    hung limply
    shrieked empty
    sounds useless hollow
before we chewed on death
with tingling ice-cube fear;
    future uncertain
    nothing left now.


This was inspired by the Moore, Oklahoma tornado.  It is written for dVerse Meeting the Bar where Victoria has us writing poems using "Synesthesia."  It is also submitted for Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Freedom

Freedom

Freedom --
we take it for granted,
consider it our due,
don't think twice about it
until we visit a country
that doesn't have it
and then perhaps
(only perhaps)
we realize what we have.

Freedom is not free.
It was fought for
by people with vision,
continues to be fought for
around the world;
the means may be flawed,
but the intention is good,
as all people deserve the freedom
we consider our due
and don't think twice about.

I will get a bit on my bandstand here.  People who have not traveled outside of their own free shores sometimes do not realize the value of freedom.  These people are often critical....  I think if they would experience the way life is in countries that do not have the freedom we have here they would have a different perspective.  I really think we NEED to appreciate the freedom we have.  But then again I think, how can a person know if one hasn't experienced elsewhere.

This is submitted for Poets United Verse First, where Kim's prompt is "Freedom."

Good-bye

Kona, Hawaii

Good-bye

If someone says good-bye, don't argue;
if someone says it's over, let them walk out the door,
as if it's meant to be different it is not today.

It doesn't work to beg someone to stay;
such words are said for a reason
whether or not the other agrees,
and if there is to be another outcome
it isn't going to happen that day.

If someone says good-bye, don't argue;
if someone says it's over, let them walk out the door,
but leave the door open for  another day.

This was written for Poetry Jam, where the prompt was Good-bye.

Breathe

Lahaina, Maui, Hawaii

Breathe


Every breath we take is a resurrection,
one more chance,
one more moment
to live.

The river of life
flows in its own channel,
unknown to us,
makes its own way
outside of our influence,
and we do not know its path.

With ebb and the flow,
nature at its core,
we are swept along
with our arms either
raised in praise or flailing;
we have no choice
when we will die.

But until that time we must be
thankful for the gift of every moment
and never forget to focus
on our breath as resurrection,

knowing some day we will not have
one more chance
one more moment
to live.

Breathe.

This is written for dVerse Open Link.

Beauty in Small Things

Beauty in Small Things


There is beauty in small things
in hidden places of the heart
one breath purposely taken
one word well chosen said from the heart
one smile when you needed it most.

There is beauty in small things
one leaf fallen from a tree
on which one drop of crystalline rain has fallen,
an almost indiscernible  priceless jewel
resting momentarily on its journey
before it is transported back to the clouds
from which it came.

There is beauty in small things
when a child reaches for your hand
to show you the mushroom she found
your soul bursts into song and you know
as if for the first time you are alive.


This was written for both Mini Challenge at Real Toads where Ella presented artwork of L. Diane Wolfe for us to write from & also for Poets United Poetry Pantry #151.

Bejeweled

Image by Leovi

Bejeweled


Her arms  bejeweled
her skirt tie-dyed
her blouse doesn't match
     she doesn't care.

Her boots strut
her body sways
    she looks the world in the eye
ribboned hair flutters in the breeze.

A rainbow walking
She knows who she is
     and proudly
     non-paradoxically
     she struts it!


Written for dVerse Poetics, where Brian is in charge and having us write using some of the images of Leovi as inspiration!

My Truth

My Truth

My truth is an old truth
I don't often proclaim.
Perhaps we all have truths
we keep to ourselves,
draw on when we need to,
share selectively with those who care

Mostly my truth is individual,
helps me make it through the night,
my  reasons for living,
my  hope for my dying.
My truth is an old truth
I don't often proclaim.

This was written for Poets United: Verse First -- My Truth.

Summer Shoes

Summer Shoes

Don't restrict me
          hold me in
          force me to point
          bend my bones
          force me to hobble
          twist me til I strain
Don't cramp my style.

Let toes breathe easily
         wiggle unhindered
         feel the wind and rain
         be embraced by sand
I want to be free.

Fashion of my own making
         let me live
         until I die
         and then bury me
         in my Tevas!

This is written for the Poetry Jam prompt:  Shoes.

Life As It Is

Wikimedia Commons

Life As It Is 

Life is nebulous

possibilities bleak

I cut myself deeply as vision dims

timing is everything, yet nothing

I desire touch but there is none

phantoms hover above me, crush my spirit

an opaque blanket covers me

hides me from the blazing torch

I bury myself beneath the slab

and take my final breath.

Submitted for dVerse Open Link.  I used words from The Sunday Whirl.  (However, I did not submit it for the Sunday Whirl.....in fact almost didn't publish it at all, as it resulted in such a 'dark' poem.)  The words that Brenda sent us in order were  nebulous, bleak, cut, vision, timing, touch, hover, crush, opaque, blazing, torch, slab, breath.  My challenge to myself was to use them in the same order.  It did not make for a very upbeat poem..thus my hesitation to blog it....but it is what it is!

Mother's Day Feast

Chap Chae

Bulgogi

Mother's Day Feast

Kimchi

and bulgogi

served with spicy chap chae

Mother's Day meal par excellence

no all-you-can-eat buffet can compare

with cooked-with-love Korean meal

missing were the chop sticks

but please bring more

kimchi.

This was submitted for Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads where Grace challenged us to write a Rictameter (2,4,6,8,10,8,6,4, 2 syllables) & also submitted as a second submission for dVerse Poetics where Kelvin challenges us to write something Asian-related.  I would not have come up with the idea for this poem if it had not been for Kelvin's prompt & wouldn't have written it in this form if it weren't for Grace's prompt.

Bangkok on the King's Birthday

Some of the crowds in Bangkok on the King's Birthday.

Note people with pink shirts - king's favorite color.

Decoration - Palace in Bangkok

Reclining Gold Buddah

Bangkok on the King’s Birthday

I can't lose sight of my group

must keep my eye on the guide,

the man waving his red flag 

above the crowd. Keep walking 

no matter what.  I can't get lost. 

When the guide says cross the street, 

I weave between cars driven by crazies

who  follow no rules. I rebuff fear to

survive. My heart pounds, excitement 

blends with fear. Don't falter. Move.

We sweep through the streets 

with a  throng that extends in all

directions and moves as a wave.

There is no escape from the horde

this day all Thailand celebrates

with fervor, especially here, Bangkok.

It is the King's Birthday, a national

holiday with parades and revelry,

Car horns blare.  Bells ring. Sellers

hawk wares. Locals wear shirts

of pink, the king's favorite color, 

wave yellow flags as they shout.

I stroll through the grounds

of the ornate Grand Palace with

its numerous elaborate structures 

adorned with gold, red roofs,

ornate spires, but always keep

my eye on the red flag ahead.

From out of nowhere a group of

school children heads right into

me.  They shove as they press 

in the opposite direction. I resist, 

use my elbows as ram, keep my eye

on the guide’s distant red flag.

I know I must not panic, wedge 

my body between members of

the advancing  throng, forge an 

opposing path.  If I fall, I’ll be trampled.  

If I lose the guide I’ll never find him 

again. I continue to push forward.

At last I outmaneuver the crowd

reach the peaceful spot where 

our guide awaits.  Safe. Secure.

We make our way to see the

gold reclining Buddha. Inhale

exhale, I relax in his golden calm.

I wrote this a couple years ago, but it seems to fit Kelvin's "Asian" prompt at dVerse today; so I decided to share it.  Being in Bangkok on the King's Birthday was quite an experience.  I would compare it to being in Paris on Bastille Day, for example.  The crowds were horrendous, and we just kept being swept along following our guide with the red flag, not wishing to become lost or we would not have been found again!      Also shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry #150.

My Place in the Universe

Solar System (Wikimedia Commons)

My Place in the Universe

My place in the universe

is to touch as many people

as I can in as positive

a way as possible.

If I succeed even partially

I will be happy

If I am remembered

I will be grateful.

This was written for Verse First where Kim's prompt was "A Place in the Universe."

No Crystal Ball

The Crystal Ball - Robert Anning Bell (public domain) - 1900

No Crystal Ball

She said she wanted to travel when she was young
to accumulate memories to summon when she grew old.

She travelled the world, stored memories for a lifetime;
but didn't figure on not living past her prime
nor on not being able to remember at the end.

If only she had had a working crystal ball
I know she would have travelled even more.


For     Poetry Jam where the prompt this week is "crystal" and also for   dVerse Open Link.

My Mother's Flowers

My Mother and Me

 My Mother’s Flowers

Every Memorial Day weekend we journeyed to the greenhouse

to pick out flats of petunias, geraniums, and marigolds 

to plant around our home and also for the gravestones

of the two cemeteries where my parents’ deceased were buried.

Stooping over the soil with her shovel, hand digging holes,

Mother artfully arranged geraniums, marigolds, and petunias

and an occasional coleus in her front yard flower beds.

As a child, I often found my mother standing with her garden hose,

watering her flowers before the rise of the strong morning sun.

I knew not to disturb her then, as this was her time.

Time passed. My mother could no longer care for flowerbeds. 

Her eyesight dimmed year after year, blindness was inevitable.

Instead she planted flowers in large pots on the front porch.

It was important for her to grow flowers.

Then one day when my mother was almost blind

she awoke to find her flower pots stolen.

Gone were the plants that had been her pride,

the only reminder of her gardens of yesteryear.

The thieves stole more than flowers from my mother,

they stole her desire to grow them.  She never had flowers again.

They had been all that was left for her to nurture.

Nothing more to care for is a very sad thing.

I am sharing this with Poets United's celebration of Mother's Day today.  It is not a new poem.  I wrote it before I blogged.  However, this is the poem I wanted to share today because it is a poem that means so much to me and still brings tears to my eyes when I read it.

's

Violet

Violet when she was much younger!

Violet

A color I had no affinity for
until we named our eldest Violet
and now I love the color
how she fits her name
and I also know now
perceptions can change.

Violet


This is shared with Kim's prompt "Violet" at Real Toads.
Thanks, Kim.  Violet sometimes gets overlooked.
I am glad she has some recognition here.

Temptation

Fall of Man - Lucas Cranach the Elder

Temptation

Temptation is different today
no apple offered by a serpent

it can come in a corner of a bar
with someone else's wife

or a little extra money for a favor
under the table no one will know

and its just so easy to go
into a dressing room and
wear new shirt under your own
and walk right out smile on face

Temptation is different today
when the party is going strong
and you know you had enough
but more is offered and you take

or you know the truth but don't tell it
write a paper using someone else's notes

find someone's wallet filled with cash
and the blackjack table calls

the serpent has changed his ways
Temptation is different today.

This is written for dVerse Poetics where I am tending bar today, and the topic is TEMPTATION.  We hope to see you there!  

Empty Nest

Empty Nest

I contemplate my second empty nest

time for granddaughter to go off to school;

for five and a half years I have been blest.

Our  relationship was so meaningful;

we laughed, she learned to read, we walked, we played.

Our weekdays together were never dull.

Memories of these times will never fade;

I know she'll always remember them too.

For her well-being I have always prayed.

To childcare days I must bid my adieu.

I will have more time for myself I know,

but still I would love them to continue.

Children are born, then they thrive, and they grow;

but when it is  time we must let them go.

This is my attempt at writing a Terza Rima Sonnet for Tony's "Form for All" at dVerse Poets Pub.

Bee-friend our Bees

Beatrice the Honey Bee

Bee-friend our Bees

Colony collapse disorder is affecting bees
Pesticides and herbicides are killing them
Bees are our friends, we depend on them
to pollinate our food supply, and if bees
continue to die at their present rate
and the crops that we depend on
also die for lack of pollination
it cannot be long before humans  follow.

This is written for the Poetry Jam prompt The Buzz on Bees.

The bee death situation is a major problem.  It frightens me, as our food supply depends on honey bees.  If you are conversant on this horrendous worldwide problem of diminishing honey bees, here are a few articles to start with:    Are Honey Bees Endangered by Gmo Crops? and Soaring Bee Deaths in 2012 Sound Alarm on Maladay.

Friendship

Basil

Friendship

One day I had a human friend,
next day I didn't.
Dogs are not like that.



This is written for  Verse First at Poets United, where the prompt was "Poetry Heals."  Sometimes the healing comes from writing. Sometimes from acknowledgment.  Sometimes from the passing of time.

Spring

Tulips

Spring

First tulip that emerges
is always the most
beautiful of the season.

----

After a hard winter,
There is nothing like
the feel of the warm earth
between my fingers
at flower planting time.

-----

Why is it that the nasty
crow has the loudest call
and the peaceful robin
little voice at all?

----

Not all trees have budded
I wonder if some ever will
I wait, watch, and hope
Winters are harsh, life fragile.

----

Spring grass is always greenest, not
baked by the mid-summer sun. Newly
emerging it reminds me of life's renewal.

-----

Spring season, every day better
than the day before, every day greener,
more colorful flowers appear, eggs laid,
babies born, hope reappears each year.


These short spring poems are shared with dVerse Open Link!   At last I think it is here.

Fears

A noise in the night
someone trying to jimmy the door
the dogs are barking
what do they know that I don't?

The doctor's office
I fear a fatal diagnosis
something irreversible
no cure, find out I'm right.

A telephone call
hospital has my daughter
serious accident and she's not okay
they tell me I should come now

There is turbulence
I see fear on flight attendants' faces
suddenly the plane drops
and drops and drops.

This was written for Mindlovemisery's prompt: Fear.  These ARE real fears of mine.  None of these have happened.  But one never knows what will happen tomorrow.

The Koala

I was this close to a koala once
during the day when it was dozing
in a Eucalptus tree at Taronga Park Zoo.

These marsupials  live solely in Eucalyptus trees
eat about two and a half pounds of leaves a day
or I should say at night, as they are nocturnal.

Eighty years ago they were hunted
and their population greatly declined
but today they are gaining ground again.

A koala may look cuddly and sweet
but we were warned not to touch them.
I was thrilled to see them so up close.

This was written for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads where Hannah had us writing about animals of the tropical rainforest.  These photos were taken at the Taronga Park Zoo in Sydney when I was in Australia in 2007.   I would love to go back.  I love Australia for many reasons.  Oh, the koala is classified as a threatened species, not endangered.  It faces threats from both urban expansion and climate change.

Disease

Disease

Disease respects no one
you are handed a death sentence
you hope you are the exception
you do all the right things
you eat right, exercise
you have the best treatments available
you keep a positive attitude
you know you will be the exception
you are certain you will beat your sentence
you pray
you die

This is written for Victoria Slotto's Meeting the Bar.  If I understand the prompt correctly, it is to write about something we firmly believe in our own style.  I firmly believe the above.  And I believe I have written in my style.   I am trying to adjust to a Mac computer.  I can't figure out how to link dVerse here in my blog.  It is a learning curve for me.

I am also submitting it to Imaginary Gardens & Real Toads Words Count with Mama Zen, where we were challenged to write a poem with 45 words or less.  Again I cannot provide a link here.  

Take Hold

Take Hold

If the brass ring comes your way

grab it and don't question why;

your destiny has arrived

an opportunity not to be missed,

there may not be another.
 

Reach out when you can

and hold on to that ring for your life.

Don't let the opportunity pass

unless you wish to live with regret.

forever.

 

 

This was written for Poets United Verse First where the Kim's theme/ prompt was to make a deeper truth known in fewer than 13 lines.

Soaking

Sunrise (Wikimedia Commons)



Soaking

 

Soaking in the sun

on a bright spring day

makes my heart dance;

my body yearns to play

Soaking in the Son

puts my soul at rest

gives me peace of mind

when I'm put to the test.

Soaking in the sun

I smile from ear to ear;

after such a long winter

warmth brings needed cheer.

Soaking in the Son

I am surrounded in love

warmed in any season

by a Dove sent from above.

 

This was written for Alan's prompt "soak" at Poetry Jam.   We hope you will join in!