Chaos

Chaos

A glass of wine – or two
and some smooth jazz sent me
spinning into a world of Giant
Amoeba and exploding neurons
A colorful world with ever changing landscapes,
exotic, erotic flowers, menacing rocks and boulders
I ran as fast as I could, but my feet
became planted beside a river of
flowing, neon flower petals where glowing, shapeless creatures
came to pick the fruit from my branches
until I was naked and shivering
It was then that your gentle touch lifted me
out of the chaos and back to the warmth of your heart

Day One

Secrets

Secrets

They think that I have been left behind
to do this menial task, as if being
punished for being a women.
They think their comings and goings
make them more important than
a woman who stays at home
But they don’t know the power I posses,
and wonder why, at the end of the day,
their feet are sore and blistered


Inspired by A Month’s Darning (1876) painted by Enoch Wood Perry
In response to the prompt at NaPoWriMo.net

Almost There – and an Early-Bird Prompt

Not Alone

Not Alone

I am never really alone
Sometimes
I hear the call of geese
passing
overhead as they migrate North or South, or feel a
breeze
as it brushes the trees. They wave to me and
whisper
the secrets of the forest, of birds, of beasts,
of you

* Waltmarie Poetic Form-
10 line poem, any subject, even numbered lines are 2 syllables and form their own poem when read separately. Odd lines are longer with no specific syllable count.

haiku

d’Verse Poets Pub – Poetics: Beyond Meaning or The Resolution of Opposites

haiku

within its branches
the ancient gnarled apple tree
harbors fresh new life


from Paul Dunbar’s The Paradox: I am the bud and the blossom, I am the late-falling leaf

A Windy Day

Poets and Storytellers United – Weekly Scribblings #58: Two Into One Will Go

A Windy Day

The wind blew through
today
It rattled windows and doors
boldly
enough to make me look outside
I love
to watch the bare tree branches waving at me
and laugh
at their gyrations, realizing that they are
fearless


https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2021/02/weekly-scribblings-58-two-into-one-will.html

Lost In Cyberspace Perhaps

d’Verse Poets Pub -Going…Going…Gone Poeming {Quadrille #122}

Lost In Cyberspace Perhaps

where have they all gone, those shots of
flowers and bugs, trips, happy children? I went
to look for them and they had disappeared, snuck
away, without telling me they were going. Have they,
perhaps, found other lost pictures to share my memories with?


I recently lost the photos stored on my computer. Luckily, most of them are
floating in some cloud. 😁

The Place Where Egrets Danced

The Place Where Egrets Danced

The lake is slowly going dry,
where herons fish and turtles swim.
No rain clouds in a clear blue sky
to give some shade, provide a scrim.

The shoreline has receded such
that killdeer strut the dry lakebed.
The egrets, searching, don’t find much,
must leave this place to fish instead

in other lakes, in other ponds
with water clear. There, food is found
among the reeds where fish are spawned.
How I will miss their croaking sounds,

their long-legged stride, some ancient dance
that I was privileged to view,
their patience and their stately stance.
The flash of white when off they flew.

The lake is starting to go dry
filled only with the tears they cried.