A place for poems and pics
Travelers
I watch them, young people with
their backpacks and trendy clothes,
their cool hairstyles and uncomfortable shoes.
They walk through the airport with a
confidence bestowed on them by
nature. Secure in their ability to navigate
the maze of shops and signage and crowds.
I can not help wandering how they will
weather the storms that living brings or
if they too will someday join the shuffling
mass of elderly travelers, confused and hesitant.
A Scintilla of Hope
It survived like a susurrus
in the Autumn garden
A small spark, brightly shining
through the increasing feuillemort
and shortened days
An aliferous creature that was
about to begin a perilous journey
to ensure to continuation of its species
I watched, humbled by the courage
of this belle ame as it flew away,
needing nothing more from me but a prayer
–
* It’s migration season for the Monarch butterflies, which have recently been put on the endangered species list. Plant some milkweed.
Mish, I hope I used these lovely words correctly. Thanks for this ‘wordiferous’ prompt
Out of Oz
This poem is tripping down the yellow brick road
Stumbling over letters stuck in the cracks
Picking them up and filling its pockets
Saving them for a rainy day
Looking for some wizard to give it words
Of en(courage)ment, a phrase or two to
Send its ruby red heart spinning home again
But there is no one lurking behind the curtain
No one waiting with badges or magic spells
Only a little dog who remembers the way
So it spills words upon the bricks and
Writes a goodbye letter to this emerald mirage
August Again
It’s hot and you are grumpy.
All the tomatoes are ripening at once,
the cucumbers are wilting, and the
neighbor’s orange cat is using the flower
bed for a litter box.
The garden looks tired, worn out, as if
it just doesn’t care any more.
The Sun is an unrelenting ball of heat.
The night air carries no coolness.
I sit by the open kitchen window wondering
if this month has any redeeming qualities
when in a corner of the yard I see the large
white blossoms of the moonflower vine. This
glow of promise amid the darkness reminds me
that each season holds a beauty of its very own.
I shall make it my mission to search for it.
–
Heart Signals
I watched the fireflies flashing
Flashing secret signals of hope
Hope that somewhere in the darkness
Darkness that hides the cares of the day
Day that slowly fades into night
Night will hold the answer to its signals
Signals from one heart to another
Another night for lovers like you and I
(I fudged a little with the grammar )
In Celebration of Green Beans
We planted rows of beans.
Surrounded them with fencing – the kind
to keep rabbits from nibbling on the tender
shoots. We watered, weeded, cheered
when their white flowers were pollinated by bees.
Now we are holding a celebration in honor of
fresh green beans.
Forever
I will not have a tombstone –
when I die
A piece of rock to mark
the place where my bones sleep
My soul will not lie down beside those bones
It will soar freely among the clouds,
and stay forever at your side
Paint Me
Paint me into a corner, and then
Paint your beating heart upon my lonely heart
Paint long-stemmed roses on my nose and
Paint love songs on my empty ears
Paint wet kisses onto my parched lips
Cover me in paint until I am no longer blank
Spinning Seasons
Like a Merry-go-Round ride this old
blue planet spins round and round –
tilting now and then just to add a
touch of seasoning, a smidge of reasoning
far enough away from the flame
of that burning star that we feel its spicy heat
On a Gloomy Spring Day
It was a gray day –
gray sky, gray dreams.
Rolling fog came pushing
it’s way across the ground
masquerading as a goblin,
and I looked for a safe
place, a hidey hole.
Hope hung limply,
like a worn out chemise,
until a small trumpeter
with a black cap chirped
notes of promise into the air.
rhymeswithbug 