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

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

Early Bird & Me

Day 9 of Poetic Asides PAD – write a love or anti-love poem (or both)

Early Bird & Me – a Villanelle

 
He loves to rise before the sun
While moon and stars are still at play
My night of dreaming not yet done

He, wide awake, his day begun
My eyes are closed – please go away
He loves to rise before the sun

He thinks that I am not much fun
Because in bed I tend to stay
While moon and stars are still at play
He doesn’t know, I sometimes run
Through starlight, under moonbeams lay
He loves to rise before the sun

When moon is tired, stars twinkling done
My moon’s a shining yellow drum
He loves to rise before the sun

Before birdsong is even sung
And I dream on in my own way
He loves to rise before the sun
While moon and stars are still at play

7 or maybe 3

Day 8 of Poetic Asides PAD – write a lucky number poem

7 or maybe 3

 

I always thought my lucky
Number should be 7
It is, after all, the date of
My birth – what could be luckier
But I have begun to reconsider 7
All straight lines with an elbow
That pokes out rather rudely
I feel drawn to 3 – softly curved
With numerical love handles
Its name a whisper that reminds
Me of ‘thee’, and I begin to count
The ways

And I Smiled

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The Friday form challenge over at Poetic Asides is –

Strambotto Poems

“Some of these forms are older than others, and the strambotto traces back to the 13th century. This Italian form known as ottava siciliana (Sicilian octave) or strambotto popolare was the preferred form in Southern Italy, while strambotto toscano was more popular in Tuscany [hat tip to Edward Hirsch’s A Poet’s Glossary]. Today strambotto toscano is known as ottava rima.”

The basic rules for strambotto:

Octave (8-line) poems or stanzas
Hendecasyllabic (or 11-syllable) lines
Rhyme scheme: abababab
Alternate version: There’s also a six-line variant form (still called strambotto) with hendecasyllabic lines and an ababab rhyme scheme.
Here is my attempt (and a picture of that crocus)

And I Smiled

 

I found a yellow crocus blooming today
amid the detritus of a season gone.
Its slender green and white leaves finding a way
through fallen leaves and bits of bark. It was drawn
by Spring’s silent signals and the Sun’s warm rays.
Tightly curled buds, the color of a new fawn,
unfurl to show off in golden, flouncy play
as a milder wind makes them dance in my lawn

Passing a Window Late One Night

d’Vers Poets Pub – Poetry Forms – The Rubaiyat
Frank has us ‘forming’ some lines of poetry at the Pub tonight

Passing a Window Late One Night

Our eyes met through the window pane
A chance that may not come again
For just one second we were one
A feeling I can not explain

Then, just as quickly, she was gone
A graceful, caramel colored fawn
I look for her on clear, dark nights
To pass, once more, across my lawn

And wonder if she looks for me
When eating apples from my tree
I won’t forget that look we shared
One night that ended magically

A Note of Love

d’Verse Poets Pub – Shed some light on this today!
Lillian is our gracious host in the pub tonight


She built a shed
To shield her heart
Filled with her own
Soft words and art

It was a shell
In which to hide
From bitter winds
And foaming tides

Built to protect
A wounded soul
Keep others out
Stay in control

Until she heard
One plaintive note
So she peeked out
And saw a boat

A boat that floundered
In the waves
It needed help
It needed saved

Again that plaintive
Note rang out
It rang for her
There was no doubt

She opened wide
The she-shell door
To show the boat
Where it could moor

She let that note
Into her soul
It turned to love
It made her whole