A place for poems and pics
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.
d’Verse Poets Pub – Quadrille: swift
Little Birds
The naturalists call them Swifts –
because they are
And the blue jays are blue
Black capped chickadees wear
close fitting black caps
Little birds with names to help
us recognize them
What shall I call the lonely bird
That perches in my heart?
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
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
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. 😁
Taking Pictures on a Rainy Day
I try to capture a photo of the chickadee
outside
Flitting from branch to branch of the choke cherry tree
joyful
My reflexes are much slower than his
blurry
Images are all I manage to capture
colors
Blended together as in an abstract painting
of birds
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.
Weekly Scribblings #57: Let Us Write (together)
—
How Does the Moon Stay Warm?
Does the moon get cold hanging in the dark sky
alone
with only distant star-filled constellations for company
at night
I could bring him blankets and a pot of tea – no
I shall
find another moon to sit beside him, hug him tightly
whisper
secrets from another world, jokes that make him burst into laughter, dance, sing out
love notes
d’Verse Poets Pub – Poetics: True Colours?
Mish wants to know what the colors say
—
Call Me Gray
You think you can ignore me because
I’m gray
But I am many shades and tints,
like clouds
I am the background of your colorful life
Without
me blues would not be as vibrant, yellows would have no
purpose,
and the color wheel would be nothing but
a blur
—
A new poetic form from me
“This week, a Poetic Asides member shared a poetic form she created. While I don’t usually share nonce forms, I’ve tried this one myself, and I think it’s a lot of fun. So without further ado, I’m introducing Candace Kubinec’s form, the Waltmarie (which is itself a nod to PA members and Poetic Bloomings hosts, Marie Elena Good and Walter J. Wojtanik).” Robert Lee Brewer on Poetic Asides, 2/12/21
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.
Waiting for Love
I long to see the moon again
hidden
Behind a cloud laden night sky
unseen
I wait by an open window with
my heart
Willing the cloud to roll away to watch as it
unfolds
Freeing the moonbeams to kiss my face
slowly
—-
“This week, a Poetic Asides member shared a poetic form she created. While I don’t usually share nonce forms, I’ve tried this one myself, and I think it’s a lot of fun. So without further ado, I’m introducing Candace Kubinec’s form, the Waltmarie (which is itself a nod to PA members and Poetic Bloomings hosts, Marie Elena Good and Walter J. Wojtanik).” From Poetic Asides 2/12/21
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.
rhymeswithbug 