Photo Zen
A Goodbye Hymn
A Goodbye Hymn
High overhead the wild geese fly
their honking fades into the air,
a threnody, a sad goodbye
to lakes and ponds that don’t reply,
mallards and coots no longer there.
High overhead the wild geese fly
away from cold wind’s chilling sigh.
They sing a chorus of despair
a threnody, a sad goodbye.
I wave my arms, somehow I try
to call them back, but unaware,
high overhead the wild geese fly.
They call each other, pair to pair,
a melody exquisite, rare,
a threnody, a sad goodbye.
I’ll miss them, strutting smartly by –
their songs like penitential prayer,
as overhead the wild geese fly,
a threnody, a sad goodbye
Spider’s Web
Spider’s Web
I leave the abandoned spider’s web,
empty and lifeless, in the corner of the back porch
an offering for the goldfinches and humming birds, which
they will use as the glue that holds their small nests together,
a shield against wind and rain when eggs hatch – protection
from harm until the hatchlings fledge
instead, I sit in a pool of morning sun and ponder love,
the spider’s web that holds a family together – safe and secure
Why Bother
d’Verse Poets Pub – Quadrille #126 – Come “bother” up a poem
Why Bother
This poem didn’t bother to get
dressed – just stayed in its pjs all day
not bothered by the flapping
of its slippers or the flopping of its
hair-do, hoping no one will bother it
until it doesn’t have to bother
masking its feelings
Quadrille #126 – Come “bother” up a poem
Migration Story
Migration Story
They fly in a V formation, a skein
of Canada Geese, honking
joyfully as they arrive back at the
lakes and ponds where they were born.
Landing on the water, as if on water skis,
they trundle together onto land making
soft sounds in a language of their own.
They make me think of a superfluity of nuns
in their black wimples, reciting prayers
of gratitude for a safe migration.
Amid Chaos
PAD 14 – from where I’m sitting
Amid Chaos
The morning sun slants through the kitchen window where
I sit,
surrounded by the lacey pattern the shadows make on the the wall.
Amid
the calmness of morning bird calls, Bach, and tea there is
chaos
at the bird feeder. Finches and sparrows battling for position, not
waiting
their turn – for theirs is a battle of survival not a negotiation
for peace.
waltmarie poetic form
https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/2021-april-pad-challenge-day-14
haiku
haiku
red tail hawk circles
searching the backyard feeder
unlucky sparrow
–
red tail hawk circles
lucky chipmunk stays hidden
blue jay calls warning
Day 13 prompt for PAD at https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/2021-april-pad-challenge-day-13 is lucky/unlucky
The Kraken
Day 9 at NaPoWriMo has us composing to-do lists
https://www.napowrimo.net/day-nine-7/
The Kraken
1 daily yoga stretches to keep all limbs flexible
2 morning devotional reading of Tennyson’s poem about me
3 light snack of fishes that swim around me
4 read family history in Old Norse Mythology
5 watch favorite version of me in Pirates of the Caribbean
6 prepare for dinner by opening and closing jaws
7 burst from the bottom of the sea and swallow some fishermen
8 find my antacids
9 listen to folk song about me
10 play Age of Mythology for an hour
11 read my favorite bedtime story, Monster Mission (sometimes I am a good guy)
12 sleep, to wake again and rise in hunger from the ocean’s depths
A Night for Lost Souls
A Night for Lost Souls
It was a clear winter night with
spotty stars covering the sky and
just a sliver of white moon showing
It was a cold winter night with
Only the arms of my quilted jacket
wrapped around me for warmth
It was a lonely winter night with
no one to listen to the wishes I
made to the stars high above
It was the kind of night that I
thought I might lose my soul
until I heard the owl call my name
—
I used the line, “I heard the owl call my name” from the book of the same title by Margaret Craven
Day Six
When the Circus Came
When the Circus Came
The backyard was still and quiet
No sign of bird or beast, until
she ventured out to fill the feeders
Then, as if by magic, flying,
chirping, scurrying from seed to tree –
acrobats in fur and feather,
a circus outside my window
rhymeswithbug 