she takes her camera to the bit of land that she works looking for bees and butterflies hoping to find a Monarch flitting among the milkweed she has planted a place where they can lay their eggs, where caterpillars munch the leaves where peace is sometimes an illusion, as insects and birds play out the drama of who exists –
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 -Poetics – Stoddard, Longfellow and Bryant say hello! (What does November mean to you?)
– Poor November
Oh, poor November, ugly duckling of the Autumn season. Trees stripped bare of vibrant orange and yellow by a cold, cruel wind. Left to idly sit, waiting, between celebrations, with nothing to do but ponder the condition of the human race.
She was the keeper of the portal The one who held the only key And I believed she was immortal Asked only what pertained to me Relied on her for memories And now I sit out side that door A box of pictures from a drawer People without names or places No tiny scrap of family lore They stare at me with somber faces