A place for poems and pics
Fireblossom Friday: Bang, You’re Dead.
~
Still Here
i am stardust and
moonbeams
skimming through
your atmosphere
i am the whispered
breeze
blowing through
your hair
i am the fog
that hides the
sun from
your face
i am the rain
falling
from the sky like
your tears
i am not gone
Fragile, Natural, Wild (with Magaly) – in the Garden
~~
The Old Woman
they treat you like
a fragile thing
a precious flower
made of glass
they fear you will
shatter to pieces
if they tell
the truth
but you are strong
a woman forged
of broken pieces
fused together
“I Am Made of…” (Poetry and Flash Fiction with Magaly
~
Simply Me
I am blue ink
and garden dirt
with subtle notes of lavender
I write with my heart
and dig with my muse
to the depths of my very soul
solitude is my friend
my inspiration is silence
mixed with the soft music of nature
Fireblossom Friday: It’s Only A Paper Moon
It’s all about make- believe in the Garden
~
Love Amid the Ruins
we like to sit on the front porch
on moonlit nights
the people who lived here – before –
had a swing
but we like the coolness of the cement
we share strawberries from
the the patch that has gone wild
behind the house
there are enough for
chipmunks and birds too
the only music we hear
is made by crickets and frogs
no light pollution streams from
blank windows to dull the stars
we are content, safe
Captain and Tennille got it wrong
there’s nothing like raccoon love
Weekend Mini Challenge: People and Places
Welcome to the Weekend Mini Challenge with Kim from writinginnorthnorfolk.com!
–
Heirloom Gardening
she spent the summer bent over
planting
weeding
harvesting
and I watched from my kitchen window
an old woman with a cane she used to search for
beans
cucumbers
strawberries
and I was the beneficiary of her labor
now I am the old woman in a garden
sowing seeds
saved
by her
and I harvest a bit of her with each picking
Of Angels and Monsters – “Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!” – Dracula
There are angels and monsters in the Garden
~
Choir of Angels
it was the angle of the angels
that made them wonder
a spring in the wings
that made them doubt
the tilt of tarnished halos
that caused disquiet
until the heavenly sound
of three-year old voices
filled the auditorium
making believers of them all
Physics with Björn: Particle-wave dualism and the photoelectric effect
We’re having a Physics lesson in the Garden and over at NaPoWriMo we’re writing about things that happen over and over again. This poem is a triple play because it fits in the prompt at Poetic Asides too. Whoo hoo!!!
~
The Physics of Stardust
Star dust particles are
Waving at me
Bouncing through space
At incredible lengths
Forcing me to look up
Make a wish, find the energy
To tell my secrets to a spinning
Universe as if it doesn’t matter
We’ve almost made it! It’s the penultimate prompt in the Garden
~
Penultimate Visit
If I had known tomorrow
You would be gone
I might have sat beside
Your bed a little longer
Told you all the things I
Love about you
Remembered stories from
Our childhood – the times
We giggled until our bellies
Hurt – the times we cried over
Lost pets
I would have asked you all the
Questions I had saved for
Another time
If I had known this day would
Spill over into your last
I would not have hurried home
To read a book and drink a cup
Of tea
There’s a Boogeyman in the Garden today – eeek!
~
Bye Bye Guy
You’d better boogey (on down
the road) man
Crawl out from under the
Bed and boog-a-loo, bugaboo
Make yourself scarce – crow
And fly back to your hidey-hole
So long Bubba yaga(tta)
Skedattle ’cause this gal
Has some dreamin’ to do
Writing Shoes – putting on some ‘shoes’ for a walk in the Garden today
~
Shoe Blues
My walking shoes took off on some urgent journey
Without leaving a track to follow back
And my sneakers are tip-toeing around the house
Tied up in knots
Loafers are on the couch binge watching Footloose
Didn’t even bring a penny
Slippers keep sliding down the hall
Trying to get to the bedroom
Kitten heels are chasing duck boots through the garden
Startling my muck shoes, hiding under the clogged jellies
And while my shoes are pairing up for life
I’m sitting here, barefoot, just writing a poem
rhymeswithbug 