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A POEM

wINTER mOON

A flower of the midnight garden,
I am cocooned in dreams and lullabies.

My petals are words opening to the moon
(aching to be born) –

The solitude of night is home,
The silence is sweetness welling
anointing me with its perfume.

Here I am, a thought, a bud
waiting to be
beneath the vast expanse of galaxies.

I am mist that rises
when daybreak comes.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ah, it’s been a while.

For DVERSE POETS’ PUB’s Open Link Night.

HAPPINESS

This picture was taken in December 2019, after Christmas in Maine. Venus and the moon were both in the night sky. The night was so beautiful and crisp that I dared take a photo with my phone camera. The picture was grainy but I kept it to remember that extraordinary night.

 

A party of blue jays flew over my head
into the forest, going home for the night

I chase happiness flying with fresh wings
and dream of it well into the night

I ran here and there until the lights went out
Sitting by my window, I stared down the night

Stars glistened, the half moon smiled
night birds sang, what a peaceful night

quiet descended upon my spirit
I floated in the solitude of night

I only now see you in my dreams
The past comes back in the dark of night

That I could hold your hand again
My hand slipped into the emptiness of night

Moments by and by pass into oblivion
Light dawning breaks the hold of night

__________________________________

The first three couplets of this piece were written in the summer of 2019 after I surprised a band of blue jays in the yard. It was a happy moment and the inspiration for the title “Happiness”. I did not know how to proceed so I abandoned these lines until today. Perhaps, I needed things to happen in my life to find the next lines. I don’t think they fit with the original title though, but I can’t think of another one that is more suitable. So, Happiness it is.

Linking with DVERSE Poets’ Pubs’ Open Link Night.

GOLD

I speak of wealth –
of golden hearts and golden time
Wherever I am is grandeur –
golden sunrise, golden grains
goldenrods, golden shrines

I am the magic of August nights
when fireflies flit about
In the gloom of winter nights
I bring hope twinkling from the heights

Truly, I am beauty
and treasure much desired
a desire that need  be reined
as  old King Midas
painfully learned

____________

Written in response to Mish’s DVERSE Poetics Prompt: True Colors

BEGINNING

Brioche1

The counters are still empty
The cold floor is still clean
The sky is still grey –

The furnace wakes
sputtering and clanging as steam builds up.

I set the coffee to percolate

flour the counter
for the brioche dough prepared last night

to be kneaded and braided
and tucked in the pans
for one final rise.

Light spreads on the horizon
The children stir in their beds;

 I take my first sip of coffee
savoring the last bits of silence –

The day begins.

__________

I wrote this for Grace’s Meeting the Bar prompt – Setting for DVerse Poets.  I am not sure this meets the bar, but I am certainly glad that I got to write somehow (one way or the other) and to participate in the prompts again.  I am also fairly certain of the joy of learning how to make bread after giving up on it decades ago because I could not proof yeast.  Learning somehow set me free as now, I can make my favorite breads. The one above is brioche which take hours and hours to make.

THIS MORNING

This morning, yesterday’s snow glistened
under the rising sun, and autumn
berries bowed beneath their icy crown.

A cardinal from the treetop sang
filled with color the bare winterscape
my spirit danced to the glorious sound

From tree to tree, little sparrows chirped
the consecration of this new day;
Their carefree joy let no one usurp.

No amethyst skies may come my way
yet miracles are in the commonplace –
“May I have the heart to see them?” I pray.

Hello Friends,  I hope all of you are ok.  I am still here even if suffering from lack of creative inspiration.  🙂

DOODLES

The dips and arcs of a bumblebee’s flight

The curve of a blade of grass laden with dewdrops

The twirl of tendrils adorning pea and watermelon vines

My pen traces

Its gel ink glides

Smoothly tracing the lines and curls

Now a flower

Or a butterfly

Morphing into words

Building a poem

Until the once empty pages

Come alive with images

Ever a poor facsimile

Of the beauty that inspired them.

This piece was inspired by DVerse’s Meeting the Bar prompt – stream of consciousness writing. Below is the original of the piece in my own version of chicken scratches.

SAILBOAT

My little sailboat flounders
In a sea of whispers
Has it forgotten its course
Amidst so many voices
Saying go north, or south, or east, or west?
My little sailboat spins
In the currents.

Is there hope for my sailboat
Ensorcelled as it is
By sweet-voiced sirens
Harboring evil schemes?

Alas! Not the pull of the moon
Nor the push of the winds
Could set my sailboat free.
But, if it could be still
And remember
The cause for its voyage
May she cut its way through the chaos
And find its moorings at last.

—————————

Written for DVerse’s Come Sail prompthttps://dversepoets.com/2020/08/11/come-sail/ and Instagram’s @fallspoetry
#augustfalls20 sea of whispers, pull of the moon.

THE DARK CLOUDS DID NOT BRING THE RAIN

The dark clouds did not bring the rain
They teased, only to drift away.
Thirsty flowers were left wanting
to quench their thirst on that humid day.

The grasshoppers went on playing
The dark clouds did not bring the rain
But the ants kept on working
building up their pile of summer grain.

Why would a caterpillar care?
It slept soundly in its cocoon.
The dark clouds did not bring the rain,
My heart needed consolation

For the promise that was not kept.
That my eyes see the silver lining –
Perhaps, it is all for the best
The dark clouds did not bring the rain.

Linking with DVerse Poets’ Pub’s Open Link Night.

BUTTERFLY


A caterpillar
in its cocoon, so are we
in our bodies


biding the moment
to be a butterfly, free
among the flowers


silent majesty
tender voice of high summer
flying into fall


an empty cocoon
you flew like a butterfly
never to return

Written for DVERSE POETS’ PUB’s Meeting the Bar: Haiku Sequence Prompt

Especially remembering my father who passed on earlier in the summer.

SUMMER

Summers are made of these -


butterflies frolicking in the sun
zucchini growing on the ground


barefoot children playing in the yard
swooping on brambles like hungry birds
grabbing berries with eager hands


popsicles dripping on sweaty chin
children dancing under the summer rain

Written for DVERSE POETS’ Quadrille prompt: Bramble

TREASURES


My treasures are a visual prayer
my eyes delight to see:
a garden full of flowers
a pocketful of butterflies, flying free;


broken seashells smelling of the shore
flowered teapots from days of yore
cards and notes bearing good wishes
faded photos of familiar faces


Then, there’s the warmth of sunshine
and the freshness of falling rain
God’s promise in a rainbow
and laughter’s sweet refrain


My soul exalts when remembering
these common miracles, to say the least.
Of gratitude my prayers sing
its cadence clearing through the mist.

Linking with DVERSE POETS’ PUB’s Open Link Night

The above poem was inspired by Instagram’s #julyfalls20 prompts: broken seashells and pocketful of butterflies