in need of map

Writers often take journeys in their minds. Observation, memory, and imagination create thoughts to travel by. Experience, learning, and time mark signposts along the way. We draw from an interior well or search for a fresh fountain. Of course, sharing the trip with friends enriches and expands us.

We write one step after the other: a few scribbles in a notebook, an idea tapped on the keyboard, a poem submitted here or there. If we do the work, why are we surprised by acceptance and publication? No journey goes as planned but that’s part of the adventure!

Sometimes we face roadblocks to overcome. Do not give up; do not quit the trail. Keep moving forward. Whether as a career or a hobby, we discover that writing feels satisfying and readers prove gratifying. Is it possible that book you’re dream-wording will appear in print?

journeys of the mind

where everyone’s a poet

words expose secrets


Frank J. Tassone hosts haibun Monday at dVerse…join us on the journey! I think my haiku is actually a senryu 🙂

“i don’t care”

Perhaps the phrase
is meant to be
nonchalant
but it comes across as
noncommittal,

holding out/holding in
your real opinion.

It’s pathetically apathetic
not to speak your mind
with honest clarity; to own
your own point-of-view.

i don’t care? oh, yes, you do!

______________

Sanaa hosts quadrilles at dVerse, if you care to join us.

love the life you live

These I have loved:

wildflower meadows, clear rivulets, rocky heights of mountains

snowshoes strapped to boots, quiet shush through fresh powder

powerful, empathic, wondrous words heard from lips, read on pages

swelling, surround sound of woodwinds and brass in band practice

companionable petted presence, walks, whine, odor, licks of dog

deep, dark, long-lashed eyes of cows, shining wet with curiosity

smooth touch of sweetly scented, oh-so-soft baby’s perfect skin

squeals, shouts, smiles, pouts of grandchildren…eighteen seen!

magnanimous masculine hearts of eight men; six from boyhood

loyal laughter and spiritual bond of kindred spirits in dear friends

wise, patient influence of godly mothers, grandmothers, aunts

exotic variations of chai tea: steeped, dirtied, iced, spiced, latted

homemade blueberry scones, warm, drizzled with lemon glaze

succulent jumbo shrimp dipped in cocktail sauce, eaten seaside

wake to morning songs of birds serenading our shady campsite

thunderheads rumbling across prairie, forked lightning flashes

each mysterious phase of moon that beguiles with mirrored light

warm sun on skin, stretched lazily on beach chair, plush towel

fresh, clean smell of air washed by rain; damp hair, shampooed

wild roses blooming annually along ditches, lilacs in backyards

greenest fields of corn in rows, tasseled and pointing skyward

…all these have been my loves.


A list poem patterned after Rupert Brooke’s poem, “The Great Lover”… linked to dVerse poetics, hosted by Kim. As I recount the things I have loved, I must give thanks to God for these gifts; He is truly The Great Lover!

suicide…why??

If you need to talk to someone, call or text 988 (suicide & crisis lifeline in U.S.)

______________

we cannot see deep into another’s soul but…

perhaps person had already died inside, by lies,

ultimately beaten down by world’s cold frown

their inner world shrunk too small, too tight…

hope overshadowed by overwhelming despair,

choose permanent solution for temporary problem.

shards of shattered pain cause collateral damage…

leaving loved ones to grieve precious life cut short.

“The Scream” by Edvard Munch, 1893.

baking from memory

The day Dad tries to
burn our house down
with us in it, my excited
brother is yelling, “Fire!”
as I run downstairs into
cloud of smoke billowing
from open oven door
where Dad’s cream puffs
combust, ashes to ashes,
because he doubled butter.

______________

Lisa hosts “puff” quadrilles (44 words) at dVerse poets pub

strength

lone great blue heron
wings weight of world down to pond
glides with grace on blue


credit: r/birdingVal3ntyne

prayer for america

Gracious heavenly Father,

We praise You as Sovereign over all.

Thank You that we can celebrate 250 years as a nation!

Our rich heritage and current bounty are

blessings of Your providence

and we are grateful for Your goodness to us.

Our country was founded on faith and freedom,

inherently inspired by Your Word.

May we respect the dignity of every individual

and protect every person’s rights under law.

May we recognize our responsibilities as citizens

to elect representatives to govern with wisdom.

Guide our leaders and protect our troops.

We are grateful to all who have served our country well.

Lord, we confess our history is stained.

Forgive our past sins of broken treaties, slavery, and greed.

Forgive our present sins of abortion, human trafficking, and pride.

Remove our guilt and revive our virtue.

Restore peace, unity, and goodwill among us as fellow Americans.

We rely on your mercy for in God we do trust.

We thank You for preserving our country thus far and ask

for Your favor on future generations.

In the precious name of Your Son, Jesus, we pray,

Amen

photo meme by lynn__

sustenance

what is it? “manna”
question is the answer
to people’s discontent

loud rumbly grumblings
to Moses and Aaron in
complaint department

reality is real crisis of
faith in God’s provision
(or seeming lack thereof)

are we much different
than ancient Hebrews,
seeking satisfaction?

Jesus, the “bread of life”
born humbly in Bethlehem
we question: who is he?

faith can see abundance;
everything given by grace,
God is more than enough!

photo by Tetiana Padurets on Unsplash

(bio) lumin-essence

ideas are fireflies at dusk,

fleeting flickers of light;

sometimes hover low to ground

sometimes fly high in air

~ musical notes on a staff

~ random words on page

~ scattered puzzle pieces

trying to pair up, make sense,

fit together into beautiful picture;

tiny light bulbs spark bright new poem!


Grace hosts MTB: Ars Poetica revisited…see details at dVerse poets pub

good ole’ summertime

It’s haibun Monday at dVerse with Frank hosting the first solstice of the year…


The longest day of June is a Sunday; glorious day of rest extended. Sleep late in cozy camper, waking to bird song. Sip teeccino tea with a splash of creamer. Outdoor picnic table serves as best breakfast seating. Husband flips pancakes and bacon; I fry eggs, top with shredded cheese.

Wash dishes leisurely, then time for church! It’s casual today, join worship online with home congregation and guest pastor. Confession and assurance. Gospel preaching offers hope; we sing with joy. A blessing given and received. Follow with grilled steak dinner and refreshing nap.

We drive to historical house turned museum. Well-preserved Parker house built, 1916, in decorative arts and crafts style. Maureen shows us interesting features: square piano, French heirloom china, family portraits, narrow hall of old books, sun room upstairs, vintage porcelain doll, and quarter-sawn oak woodwork.

It’s raining when we cruise around town; over one lane Thunder Bridge, past cemetery, fairgrounds, and downtown businesses, closed today. Phone conversation with my dear brother. Weather clears in time for long walk around lake reflecting large rocks, lush trees, and leftover clouds, before sun finally sets on first solstice of the year.

on june twenty-one

we take father’s day escape

relax, it’s summer

refresh

sipping chai latte

on deck wet with summer’s dew

birds all a-twitter

improvisation

have you
ever seen real
unicorn in uniform
march in parade, wearing
best tailored vest
with tassels?

‘tis no hassle
for mythical creature
that’s known
how to play its
own brassy horn
since magical day
’twas born,

before the fairies
ever began telling tales.


De delights in mythical quadrilles at dVerse Poets pub tonight…improv on 44 words.

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