into the shadows

 

searching for any witnesses,
he questioned as if suspect:
“where were you?” he probed
“in my room,” a shocked reply
(nowhere near bloodied body)

at least, victim didn’t feel much,
unexpected and instantaneous.
trucker on road never slowed,
could not see in night’s blackness
didn’t notice impact, drove on.

circles under eyes mark grief
remembered as good mother
affectionate; gave warm gifts.
she’d lived life until the ninth
when bad luck found black cat.

how often we commit dark deeds;
does ignorance prove innocence?

 


Linking to dVerse poets. This “mystery” poem fits previous prompt (shades of black) and current prompt (changing perspective). Written in third person about a barn cat found on the road but also thinking of an old acquaintance who was struck by a truck and killed. It’s always sad when animals die but how much more a human being?!

If you’re not entirely comfortable with this poem…neither am I! Leave a comment…

celebrate a life

he lost second wife
and i, two mothers;
bonded by love’s genes,
shared grief, shed tears.

dad called me to say,
“our twin towers have
fallen;” nine tremulous
months after 9-1-01.

first night in hospice,
last on earth, she reached
up to hug my brother’s
strong neck…her only son.

i’ve dreamed of mom
standing in the kitchen
smiling; she said to me,
“you’re going to be okay.”

dear mom, we bless,
honor and remember
you again today on your
(missed) 83rd birthday.

we revisit our sorrow
even as you celebrate
joyful life in his presence,
who claimed you as his own!

 

pregnant

“Tonight, I want you to write a poem of anticipation. Maybe you’re hoping for something wonderful, maybe you’re afraid of retribution, maybe you’re just desperate to get off the bus.” – Sarah hosting at dVerse Poets pub


 

oh, sweet anticipation
we grandparents-to-be
(again, yes…times ten!)
phone rings, son calling
does he have news? no
he’s coming over and
do i have meal for him?
while he sits at our table
his wife calls him, news?
contractions begun? not
yet, not even warm-ups
grandma must breathe
slowly, deeply, let all
tension exhale, relax
check calendar days
due date comes…goes

 

 

 

gratitude recorded

 

counting grace gifts

moves me to mindful

noticing the beautifulIMG_3011

(even or especially)

in middle of the mess

 

grace gifts are blessings

magnificent and minute

given generously from

divine nail-pierced hands

with love, design, intent

 

i count and recount

voice in quiet prayer

write in poetic words

number in journal

capture with camera

 

lavish gifts everywhere

experienced in garden

discovered on farm

encountered in travels

observed as dear faces

 


Linda hosts poetics at dVerse Poets Pub on what brings us peace of mind…

give honor where honor due

 

Hallowed be your name?

be set apart, made holy

to know God, to make him known

but we are an unholy people

hollow/hollowed out, hurt/ hurting

we’ve brought shame on your name

we have put out the bright signal fires

even dousing them with tepid water

yet, when life’s trouble terrifies us

we again take your name on our lips

cry for help in hopeless places

look for you in unfamiliar faces

you hear, you answer, you come

dispel our soul darkness

heal our heart wounds

wake us to our real life

Hallowed be your name!

 

 

movement of life

 

salmon flash upstream

an urgency to breed

eggs float underwater

 

seed coat splits open

sprout pierces into light

leaf nodes bulge green

 

ripe chrysalis rips gentlyIMG_5294

wet monarch emerges

stretches sticky wings

 

moment of conception

multiple cell divisions

quickening in her womb

 

strong uterine contractions

now little hooves appear

cow licks fresh calf

 

mare wickers softly

new foal stands wobbly

searching for teat

 

chubby babe rolls over

sits up with support

takes first steps to daddy

 

 


Linking to dVerse poetics where Amaya invites us to write about movement…

wondrous profusion

 

oh so rhododendron

IMG_1131

photo by lynn

welcomes spring

to our front door

by blooming like

a hedonist, full of

fuchsia passion and

exuberant energy,

in wild celebration of

petrichor rainbows

with petaled frills and

stamen explosion!

 

 

 


Sharing with Tweet Speak Poetry where Kellê hosts a “wonder of the world” photo and/or poem prompt during the month of May.

maleficent (I)

 

no sleeping beauty, she’s an
(un)fairy, frightful villainess
come back in black; horned,
winged, pale with hungering

what do you offer to appease?
appeal? tease? or try to deal?
a cupcake?! O, she’s no mousy
muffin that you’d be stuffin’!

whip up a delicacy for those
cynical red lips, a mouth that
purses when speaking curses;
bake over coals of tongued fire,
in thick forest of thorny briar

rich, dark chocolate cake–it’s
devil’s food; a true-love’s kiss
baked inside, laced with poison;
white-frosted, too-sweet icing

serve at dawn as darkness dies

 


Linking to TS Poetry where Callie invites us to make cupcakes for a fairy tale character! Also linking to dVerse Poets where today we re-visit legends with Anmol.

crumbling lady edifices crucifix

 

Dark-vowelled smoking columns aspire ruin

as dust-tongued, forested roof caves innavely;

water-spoken island surrenders to timbers

of flamed and lillified heaven-circling pyre.

 

Aghast of tragedy, fire-dwarfed gargoyles are

hearting a tear-culled Paris in hymnally tone

to dignify bell-voiced ash of towering ages;

above rubble, The King’s cross, power-gilded stands.

 

 


Linking to dVerse poetics with Laura Bloomsbury and loving the hyphenate-coined words by poet Dylan Thomas (as featured in my poem).

mid-western disaster

Linking late to Linda’s “water” prompt at dVerse poetics


 

water, water, water, everywhere!
dark clouds broiling across plains’
hard-crusted snowy landscape; soil
soaked by heavy rains, washes into
half-frozen rivers, ice breaks loose
floating icebergs grind along banks
dragging down bridges, trees, poles;
pressured dam gives way into torrent
that floods downstream in spreading
wave that engulfs barns, farmhouses’
families escape on muddy roads while
cattle are trapped on shrinking islands
hay bales swept away, fields ruined and
Nebraska is once again a broad ocean…

 

 

 

 

 

 

overheard

 

it was almost morning,

half moon and venus were

still hanging at the star bar

watching the world turn.

“earth, ain’t she a beauty?!”

half moon commented.

“she really is, considering

her age,” venus had to agree.

 

“she’s weathered many storms

in her years…whatcha think

about this global warming?”

“i’m not convinced, seems

earth’s weather has always

been a bit unpredictable…

moon-3385760__340

pixabay image

(sigh) i’m not sure people

are as wise and powerful

as they imagine they are.”

 

half moon chuckles, “well,

looks like sun’s gonna close

this place down…alright

if i walk you home?”

 

 

 

can a writer be a farmer?

 

this farm is home base

where i work (if i write,

do i shirk?) don’t ask the

farmer loaded questions;

i’m the farmHer who finds

sweet poetry in life on our

iowa farm, where tall corn

grows, and calves are born

(my poems are calved too)

placental in messy straw.

low mooing of cattle and

hum of machinery drones

on…in rich bass, solid tones

of this daily symphony as

poetry sings higher notes of

melody in quiet moments,

green fields, open space

discovering my place

…oh, gotta go do chores!

 

 


Linking to dVerse Poets where Gina hosts poetics tonight…

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