A place for poems and pics
The Art of Spring
She sat at her easel, like an old dutch Master,
trying to capture the essence of a bouquet of daffodils,
bathed in the morning light shining softly through her kitchen window.
Her paints were carefully mixed by hand to create shades of
yellow – golden dawn, golden echo, and lemon beauty. She sketched
their ruffled petals, so like lacey lingerie, and wished she could paint
the scent of them – a love call to bees.
Poetics: Daffy for Daffodils, Sprung in Spring
Just a little poem for those of us who will be changing our clocks tonight.
Gains
Here we are, spinning the hands
of our clocks once again – adding
the hour we stole from the morning
to the end of the day. Gaining not time,
but an hour more of birdsong, sixty minutes
of bees and butterflies, thousands of seconds
in which to find peace as day dissolves into night.
A Simple Request
She didn’t want much –
a touch from a moonbeam
or some such response to
her nighttime entreaty
to the moon that shone down
with benevolent light.
Something she could clutch,
like a sprinkle of stardust
to serve as a nightlight when
nightmares appeared.
A Stormy Winter Night
the night was dark and no moon was in view
bare trees were soon filled with winter rage
all-consuming storm clouds inflamed my fears
and a lonely crow became my sage
MTB: Toddaid
Something to Crow About
The murder of crows flew up
like synchronized dancers –
rising up from the WalMart parking lot,
making black smudges on a gray sky
One had a prize pinched between its beak
like a lucky bargain hunter rushing home
to brag about its find
Quadrille #193: Poems in a Pinch
I think there must have been a cat in Bethlehem, so long ago
The night that choirs of angels sang and cattle did so gently low
A cat that kept the baby warm
while Mary slept ‘neath starry skies
A cat that cuddled with a King and purred a feline lullaby
Merry Christmas 🥰
Snow Day
this poem is taking a snow day
a let the wind blow day
a curl up with a book and cup of tea day
an adagio kind of day
and if it finds peace in this day
this poem might take a snow week
Art Me
Sketch me a small pine tree,
scribble me a forest.
Draw a sky full of inky stars, and then
smudge a thumbprint moon.
Erase the cloudy haze of fog
that hides the owl and rabbit.
Pencil us into the peacefulness
of this charcoal world.
Quadrille #190
To Whoooom it May Concern
I see you move silently through the trees
never touching branches or getting tangled
In swaying vines, as I move silently through
dark rooms never stepping on the bits and
pieces of a family’s life once strewn across
the floor. You are probably hunting – for a meal
or some furry morsel in the open fields,
to satisfy your hunger
I am also hunting – standing in front of
the open fridge, looking for some leftover
or piece of pie that will assuage my sadness.
I hear your call and another answers, so
I know you are not alone in the darkness,
and when I call softly there is no reply –
for now, my nest is empty.
With love from a fellow night owl
Poetics:For the love of letters
Freedom to See
She holds her camera high
and defies the rules of photography –
Rules of thirds
Rules of composition
Rules of aperture, and focus, and light
She holds her camera high
and declares that she will follow
her own rules
Rules that find beauty in the mundane
and wonder in the ordinary
Rules that show heroes on street corners
and angels in sneakers
Rules that shine light in the shadows
Day 1 of the November Chapbook Challenge – write a declaration poen
rhymeswithbug 