An Idea

An Idea

A flame
starts small
give it a little time
and it will grow
beyond one's imagination.

cherry blossoms
start small
give them a little time
and they can become
a sea of beauty before one's eyes.

An idea
starts small
give it a little time
and it can become
whatever you want it to become.

This is written for Poetry Jam, where the prompt is "flame"
and for Midweek Motif at Poets United where the
prompt is "cherry blossoms."

My Childhood Call

Boris Kustodiev - 1915

My Childhood Call

With my dolls I spend my time
play with them in a special way
teach them all to count and rhyme
with my dolls I spend my time
teach them all to run and climb
rather than going out to play
with my dolls I spend my time
play with them in a special way.

In my daydreams I try to see
beyond my dolls and pretend school
to what the future holds for me
whether teaching is a job for me
one I could do with sympathy
and not prove to be a fool
In my daydreams I try to see
beyond my dolls and pretend school.

This is written for dVerse Poetics, where the prompt is "Vocation / Calling."
I was in the mood to write a TRIOLET....so this is it.

Dust

Spring - Odilon Redon - 1883

Dust

In shade she seeks to find her way
her life is filled with shards of pain
she hides it from the light of day
as all around her turns to dust

some days she tries to dispel dust
but she can never find the way
she longs to strive despite the pain
and always yearns to bless the day

but dreams at night distort her day
her mind cannot shake wretched dust
she fears she will not find a way
to overcome the reign of pain

she cannot find relief from pain
and shields her face from brightest day
while all around her turns to dust
it is her fate to exist this way

As pain is foremost in her day
she awaits dust to swirl her away.

This is written for Bjorn at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads.... It is written in the quartina form.

To Read a Poem

To Read a Poem

You want to read the poem that speaks to you
one that stirs sensitivities and intellect
explores feelings not unlike yours

one that opens up the world in a new way
sparks you to laugh or shake your fist
makes the enigmatic understandable

you search through each book on your shelf
turn page after page after page after page
look for just the right poem in vain

you want to read the poem that speaks to you
one that opens up the world in a new way
you sit down with pen in hand and begin.

Written for Poets United Poetry Pantry

Spring at Last

Flowering Garden in Spring - Henry Martin - 1920

Spring at Last


At last there is a scent of spring
to breathe life into the earth again
the fragrant blooms make my heart sing
at last there is a scent of spring
to remove the last of winter's sting
look to the sky and speak amen
at last there is a scent of spring
to breathe life into earth again.

No longer captive to the cold
sun brings its warmth to every day
each day more beauty to behold
no longer captive to the cold
colors vivid as they are bold
chains of winter stripped away
sun brings warmth to every day
no longer captive to the cold.

This TRIOLET was written for dVerse Open Link
and for Poets United Midweek Motif (where
the prompt is 'captivity.')

The Novelist

The Novelist

She thought she knew the ending
the novel was going to have
had determined all its characters
devised a well formed plot

then one day as she had coffee
the novel began to compose itself
took off in an unforeseen direction
elected not to follow her rules

so she brewed another pot
the words continued to flow
she was powerless to change
the ending that transformed life.

This is written for Poetry Jam where we are writing about coffee or tea!

The Beat of Wings

The Beat of Wings

Oh that the sky can accommodate

the beauty of beating wings

flocks of  melodious mallards

with distinctive sea-green heads

meander overhead

and I tread tree-lined trails

amble arborous  avenues

squander time to follow

my blue eyes turn heavenward

these intractable birds, their images

I savor and save in a pewter cup

unashamedly mesmerized

by the beat of mallard wings.

This poem is written for Tuesday's dVerse Poetics -- where we will be writing poems about something 'beautiful' in any sort of way! There are so many different kinds of beauty, aren't there?

If You Enter Your Own Poem

If You Enter Your Own Poem

If you enter your own poem
you will find yourself
somewhere there

you may write about birds
but birds sing only
your chosen song

you may write about rivers
but rivers flow
only through you

you may write about the sun
but the sun shines
with your light

you may write about spring
but it is you who
comes alive

you may write about a garden
but it is you who
plants all seeds

you may write about dusk
but darkness comes from
your soul

If you enter your own poem
you will find yourself
somewhere there.


This was written for Poets United Poetry Pantry.

If Dogs Contemplate Death

Tulip,Violet, and Basil

If Dogs Contemplate  Death (2015 Version -for Victoria)

If dogs contemplate death I do not perceive it
they relish today, savor the bowl of kibble
delight in a walk or a game of fetch.

If dogs ponder death they do not reveal it
perhaps that is one reason I love dogs
they acknowledge,  appreciate what is today.

If dogs envision death they suppress it
occupied with their conventional lives
proclaim that death is inconsequential

If dogs consider death they overlook it
as part of life they cannot control.
What's the use of knowing after all?
-------------------------------------------------

If Dogs Think About Death (2008 Version)

If dogs think about death they do not show it
they live now, today, happy, looking forward
to the next meal, walk, game of fetch.

If dogs think about death I do not see it
perhaps that is one reason I love dogs
they accept and appreciate what is today.

If dogs think about death they hide it as
they go about their everyday lives
inconsequential, they say, what will be will be.


For dVerse MTB Victoria is challenging us to use strong verbs.  One thing she suggested was find an old poem & strengthen the verbs.  I found a 2008 poem and played with verbs...trying to strengthen them.   Which version do you like better?   I confess I still like the 2008 version. So often I like my original versions...even if they may be flawed in some way.  

2001

Public Domain

2001

Both Wikipedia and the iPod are launched

iTunes begins & Windows XP is introduced

George Bush becomes the 43rd President

The Leaning Tower of Pisa opens after  11 years

People's Republic of China joins World Trade Organization

Concorde resumes after fifteen month hiatus

Polaroid Corporation files for bankruptcy

U.S. invasion of Afghanistan starts

Anthrax letters are mailed

The first Harry Potter film was released

AZF Chemical Plant explosion in France kills 29

Earthquake kills more than 840 people in El Salvador

The film "The Gladiator" wins the Academy Award

Same sex marriage becomes legal in the Netherlands

Vanilla Ice spends a night in jail for ripping out his wife's hair

Pope John Paul becomes the first Pope to enter a mosque

And on September 11, 200, two hijacked passenger planes

crash into New York's World Trade Center

and I am in Hawaii when everything stops

and nothing is the same after that.....

......for a long, long time.

Peggy is having us write about a particular year in her prompt for Poetry Jam.  I cannot think of a year that impacted me more than 2001. But, before & after 9/11 that year there were a lot of ordinary things that occurred.  And.....eventually we did move beyond.....but I really will never forget.  And it seems so long ago now.  

March Wind

March Wind - Robert Henri - 1902

March Wind

Is it too much to ask of you
to make up your mind
if you will chill me to the bone
or warm my slumping spirit?

Will you slap me with harshness
or soothe with a gentle touch,
you who are my hope and my dread
my comfort and my restlessness.

Will we soar the clouds together
on the tail of a towering kite,
ride billowing boisterous waves,
or bob in a gentle current?

What should I expect
as I turn my face to you?
Who are you, March Wind
Will you make up your mind?

This is written for dVerse Poetics where we are writing about the wind.

Reflection

Reflection

You would think it would be easier
to understand people the longer one lived
but this is not the case for me

So rather than understand I try to accept
recognize that try is the operative word
we all are human in best and worst sense

This is the best I can do.

Just a short reflection today...shared with Poetry Pantry!

The Garden

by Lucas Cranach the Elder - 1536 - Public Domain

The Garden

What was it like to be Adam and Eve
everything uncharted and unfamiliar
alone in the garden with new words
to fathom all with unfledged minds?

And how did they envision God
the rules He demanded of them
when everything was unknown
how did comprehension emerge?

And did they know it was God
who informed what they could not eat
or did they think He was but another man
who was different but equal to them?

What was it like to be Adam and Eve
to have to learn to love and plant
to harvest and caretake and name
and to know to trust and not to lie?

What would have happened if
the familiar story took another turn
if both Adam and Eve said No
and made the serpent turn away?

                  --and--

If the serpent had been thwarted,
where would we be today?

I was reading Gregory Orr's River Inside the River today.
He wrote some poems based on Genesis.
I decided to write my own.....for dVerse Open Link.

A Working Man

Dad and Me (the sun was bright!)

A Working Man

He was a working man
fixed cars as he lay on his back
got grease under his fingernails.

His hands were ridged in black
clothing smelled of auto grease
work shoes left by the back door.

Never had a new car himself
succession of used ones never near new
money was always scarce.

He worked six days a week
no work no money no food
no complaint just the way it was.

He was a working man
an honest hard-working kind man
could never scrub the grease away.

This poem was written for Poets United Midweek Motif where Susan's prompt was 'A Man's Day' and we were challenged to write a poem that showed how a man, living or dead, was special.  This poem is about my dad.

Her Eyes

Student Art - Scholastic Art Exhibit

Her Eyes

Her eyes have seen
what no eyes should see

her ears have heard
what no ears should hear

her body has endured
what no body should endure

her scars are not visible
but they are deep

and she wonders
in her dark moments

whether anyone will ever
see her with eyes of love.


This poem was written for Poetry Jam where the prompt this week is "eyes."

Secrets

Student Artwork - Scholastic Competition

Secrets

What secrets he has he keeps
what fears he has he hides
he admits nothing
        to no one never
he swaggers through life
a peacock who won't confess
        even to himself
        that he feels alone
or that at night in the dark
       he cries.


This is written for Anthony at dVerse for his prompt 'confessions' at Poetics.

Looking Into the Mirror

Student Artwork - Scholastic Exhibition

Looking Into the Mirror

One day she looked in the mirror
to find out just who she was
stared herself in the eye
hid nothing from herself

it was hard but good
not only good but necessary
to find her identity in order to
become a part of community

as a way to search for her destiny
to know her job was to love
and she said to herself that
it was good all good that

she looked in the mirror
and found out who she was.

This poem was inspired by the artwork done by a high school student.  It was also inspired by a church service I attended tonight in which there was a baptism, and the minister mentioned that baptism gave one an identity, a community, a job (to love), and a destiny (heaven). I think we all need, somehow, to look in the mirror and come to terms with just who we are!  I submit this poem to Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Silent (Version 2) forMTB 3/5

Life Drawing - by Danny Gregory

Silent (Version 2) for MTB 3/5

Silent she sits

stares 

sadness

she chooses

the secret suffering inside

     her son

     her only son...

who will understand

pain that stabs 

will not leave

still she hopes

something 

    someone will

    take the sting away.

The original of this poem can be found below.  The original (below) was written originally for dVerse Poetics where we wrote to the drawings of Danny Gregory.     Silent (Version 2) above was written, using the technique of REDUCTION (systematically erasing words) for today's dVerse MTB.  Commenters, when you comment, use version 2 above....or else, if you remember the original version (below) comment on which version works best for you / why. 

Silent  (Original version written 2/9/15)

Silent she sits

stares at nothing

sadness unspoken

she chooses not to share

the secret suffering inside

     her son, her only son...

     her son, her only son...

who will understand

the pain that stabs her heart

the pain that will not leave

still she sits silent in hopes

that something anything

    someone anyone will

    somehow take the sting away.

Local Bread

Local Bread

There is something about bread
not the grocery store variety
real bread made from scratch
bakers who rise up at 4 a.m
bread with substance and taste
whole grains that have crunch
nothing is enriched or preserved.

I search for real bakeries
that exist on the local scene
and so far I have found only two
who make what I call real bread
worth waiting for, driving for
paying the price for, not cheap
quality always has its price.

I wonder how long it will be
before real disappears completely
I often think it can't be long.

This poem is written for Brian's prompt "local" at Poetry Jam.  The photos were taken at Great Harvest, which is not really a local chain but does have made-from-scratch bread.  The second photo was taken at Rocket Baby which really is a scratch bakery in every sense of the word.  They sell sourdough bread 'to die for.'