heartbreak “hero”

Like the tin man
looking for a heart
or the scarecrow
missing his brain,
occupant of oval
office is barely
there (elder abuse)

Can we blame him
for half-hearted
ignorance or naive
desire to be instant
“hero” at high cost
of deadly equipment
and human lives??


Writing quadrilles from the heart with De Jackson at dVerse poets’ pub…I don’t often go political but what U.S. President Joe Biden did/didn’t do by suddenly withdrawing troops from Afghanistan is heart-breaking!

siri-ously be missed

Siri, self-primping
purr machine and
house cat wanna-be,
begs for attention by
front steps when we
come out for chores.

Handsome specimen:
charcoal on milk white, IMG_0805
wily golden eyes and
graying whiskers, he
avoids photographs
by always walking
toward the camera.

He’s outlived several
rivals; probably on his
eighth cat life by now
(we don’t discuss it)
still efficient hunter
and affectionate pet,
follows us like a dog
back to the old barn.

He will jump on any
lap offered and roll
over for a belly rub.
Now defers to young
cats’ swats or hisses;
lately, i’ve heard him
retching more, found
regurgitated mouse
exposed on sidewalk,

just another hairball?

or aged digestion failing,
like an elderly gentleman
who soon stops eating…

thank-full

wet dew on garden

i harvest summer’s bounty

abundant flavour

IMG_0604

photo by lynn__

pandemic pantoum

Everyone has opinions about how to handle the virus & variants.  I don’t want to add to fear but simply raise some questions…and experiment with pantoum form.

health police grab power again
new variant of covid is here
now all of you must listen!
media frenzy feeds the fear

virulent variant of covid is here
we hide faces behind our masks
media frenzy feeds the fear
authority is what they grasp

hiding faces behind our masks
we bare arms for vaccination
will the authority they grasp
control scared population?

twist bare arms for vaccination
each breath given permission
is goal control of population,
keep everyone in submission?

to breathe we ask permission
if only covid would listen!
can’t keep it in submission
as variant grabs power again.

________________________________________

The pantoum is a poetry form from Malaysia and repeats lines like an incantation going forward and back again. It is written as quatrains with ABAB rhyme scheme. The stanza lines follow a pattern: 1-2-3-4, 2-5-4-6, 5-7-6-8, 7-3-8-1. I changed repeated lines a bit.

posting a sign…thanks!

https://www.tweetspeakpoetry.com/

i like lichens

 

sweet symbiosis

of colorful characters

fungi and algae

rock solid relationship

near bubbling mountain stream

 

IMG_0293

photo by lynn – Big Thompson River, Estes Park CO

green is good for the eyes

A ghazal (pronounced “guzzle”)

memories softened by time passed far away from lush green grass of home
by day children played, at night bunnies strayed across green grass of home.

life disappointments and tears trickle, even envy may green-prickle when
seems the other side of white picket fence enjoys greener grass of home.

invest in ground cover with copious hours and sweat like lover; in winter recover
sow & fertilize, grow & water, mow & rake, for lawn’s sake, greenest grass of home.

learn to see beauty best in natural spaces that sprout with dandelions’ sunny faces
content as a lark who builds nest to rest, near prairie-tall green grasses of home.

at the end of my days, i’ll sleep under sod, then awake amazed in presence of God
to know my soul has reached heaven’s goal: the sweet shalom-green grass of home.

house was a home

emptied of family and

furnishings except for

an ornate pool table

with matching chairs

in basement; listen —

sounds of billiard balls

clacking against each

other, stripes vs. solids.

ghostly echos of former

husband vs. wife, each

of different pattern, who

clacked loudly to break;

left single family home

for two separate shelters.

as new occupant peels

off wall-lettering upstairs:

“bless this home with love

and laughter,” she wonders

about — the children.


Laura Bloomsbury hosts dVerse poetics tonight with “house” theme…

 

Egad, ye gods!

Greek pantheon
are myths to us,
such terrible fuss!
Poor Persephone:
“who cares for me?”
Captured, raped
by Uncle Hades,
a devilish beast;
manipulated by
silly Mother Ceres,
who would starve
humanity by neglect;
and banished yearly
by Father Zeus, who
had engaged his own
sister in prideful lust.
What incestuous mess!

These are no “gods”
but humanized idols
on selfish agendas,
oblivious to damage.
We humans, created
to worship, have
throughout history
fashioned odd gods
in our own image;
futile attempts to
control triune, to
keep wholly “other”
in manageable box.
The Holy One, great
“I Am” laughs at our
delusional myths from
throne in pure flame.


Linking to dVerse poets pub where we consider the Greek myth of Persephone…

pica hudsonia

 

“It is not only fine feathers that make fine birds.”

 

skah, skah
ka- ka- ka- ka
bold bird, both
seen and heard
wears coattails
pretends to sing
strong sharp beak
iridescent wings
dressed formal
in black & white
wants to impress
looks for a fight
scavenger ways
fill magpie days

 

image from Pinterest

chant of lament

how long, O Lord,
will we follow foolishness
pursue perverse rank rebellion
flounder in personal darkness?

how long, O Lord,
will we ignore garden plan
where life was very good with
all creation in perfect balance?

how long, O Lord,
must we use, abuse, misuse
ourselves, each other, the earth’s
precious children, gentle creatures?

how long, O Lord,
till you quiet our restless souls
long enough to listen to your words
of beauty, love, grace, and truth?

how long, O Lord,
till our pride is humbled, our
grip on wealth’s power loosened
and we find satisfaction in You alone?

image from Pixabay

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Meeting at dVerse poets’ pub to chant with Bjorn today…

gotta another quarter?

 

e6f439e248f5d251df3de919b5b01dd5teenagers of the fifties
grew up in happy days

poodle-skirted gals
met grease-slicked guys
at the local juke joint

“Baby, buy me a
cheeseburger and malt.
Then we’ll shuffle to
Elvis’ latest greatest hit.”

you only juked me
that you couldn’t dance!

 

 

 

 

Brian Miller serves quadrillles at the dVerse poets’ pub today.  Born at end of the fifties, I remember Elvis and juke boxes.  (Image from Pinterest)

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