do you know?

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do you know what the earth meditates upon in autumn?

when north wind breathes fresh worship
over cornfield of heavy stalks bowed down
as ripe apples bless orchard with abundance
and tumbleweeds dance across rural road?

when crispy leaves gather in harvest pile
over rich soil fully yielded to waning sun
as pumpkins swell with orange-ribbed grace
and squirrel chatters praise for scattered nuts?

do you know what the earth meditates upon in autumn?

 

 


The beginning (and ending) question is from Pablo Neruda’s El Libro de las Preguntas.

miniature intricacies

 

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specimen in jar

face to face with monster fears

cicada sheds skin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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bee helpful, bee kind

bee industrious worker

pollinate goodness

 

 

 

 

 

– photos & haiku by lynn; linked to CDHK‘s “little creature” prompt

dragonfly

 

drones hover and hum

flit above late summer crops

predator pilots

 

observe stealth landing

“what is it, grandma?” child asks

investigation

 

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photo by lynn

autumn’s ambassador

It’s haibun Monday at dVerse Poets where we’re writing about insects!


 

I bounce along, riding the lawnmower around our farm site.  It’s windy and warm today…excellent weather for drying the crops for the imminent harvest. We’re glad for the silage we’ve already chopped for our livestock. Cows galumph toward the fence when I stop to toss the fallen apples I gathered for them.

While mowing in our grove, I am discouraged to note many trees show signs of stress. Both ash and spruce host invasive insects that bore into exposed spaces in their bark. An epidemic infestation across the nation appears to have arrived here. Time will tell if it’s lethal for these trees we planted many years ago and nurtured to a protective and glorious expanse.

While fretting about insects destroying our grove, I’m surprised by a singular monarch butterfly that flits ahead of me, leading the way. It flutters into my vision as I pass by again and again. Like a shimmer of hope, it gently clings to a leafy branch. Stunning creature with delicate legs and designer wings sent to lighten my mind in a moment of serendipity.

 

monarch messenger

flashes autumn’s joyful hues

arresting beauty

 

 

 

 

waiting on gardener

 

my life is a ripe pumpkin
connected to the earth
growing green from the
hard work of soil where
i put down roots to vine
out from the tender shoot
of youth into fruitful years,
orange and mellow with
graced blessings, full;
yet, intermingled with the

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photo by lynn

seeds of good intentions
hidden inside me, ooze
slimy memories strung
with sticky emotions; sin.
i desire to be cleaned up,
hollowed out of my muck
and filled with radiant light;
though the carving might
be painful, i will wear a
genuine smile on my face,
aglow with true wisdom.

 

 

 

 

 


Linking to Bjorn’s metaphor challenge at dVerse Poets’ pub: “Meeting the Bar”.  My poem’s theme inspired by children’s book: The Pumpkin Patch Parable by Liz Curtis Higgs.

kafka for kids?

“I do not see the world at all; I invent it.” from The Diaries of Franz Kafka, 1910-1923. Link to dVerse poetics hosted by Amaya this week.

Beware the yellow school bus
with cheery windows bright
it threatens to take all of us
and re-educate us right!

Leave your mama & your papa
watch your family disappear
bureaucracy will dictate how
we spend each school year

Bullies learn from Darwin
it’s survival of the fittest
teachers hear from Kinsey
pedophiles are hippest

Identity is how you feel
(forget biology)
kick God out, he isn’t real
(fascist philosophy)

Unicorns and mermaids
rewrite history after all
fluff mis-education may
result in Humpty’s fall

Everyone’s a victim
disenchantment is the rule
let’s politicize the system
then send adults to school!

 

 

Egg GIF by Chris Timmons - Find & Share on GIPHY

reformation needed

 

desperate pilgrims

risked medieval roads and thieves

hoping to be saved

worst thief was catholic church

selling salvation for gold

 

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Canterbury Tales

 

 

 


Not sure if church commentary is appropriate for a tanka but the true church of Christ should always be re-forming ourselves according to scripture.

mine walks fine line

in
sanity’s measured continuum
continue to march to drum
did you know alpacas hum?
so
hum to yourself like alpacas doIMG_1603
they won’t bite, but will you?
if howl growl, put me in “zoo”
to
write bright fantastical poetry
under plastical poet’s tree, see?
inflated palm lights-up for free
on
this blog written by “mad hatter”
a pinch of craziness won’t matter
just stir into my pancake batter
as
flapjacks flip, overturn life’s game
healthy dis-ease is recovery’s aim
let go of stigma and false shame!

(give freudian therapy all the blame)

 

 

 


Poeming with Laura at dVerse about mental health. I admire my family members who’ve lived bravely through mental illness to recovery. NAMI is a national organization in the U.S.that offers resources and support!

nowaki (windstorm)

 

 

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windstorm passes through

time to pick up sticks again

branches down in grove

price paid for shaded farmstead

how nature attacks her own!

sea of tranquility

Lillian at dVerse invites us to write a quadrille (44-word poem) on the most beautiful word in our language: tranquility


 

adirondacks sit on
porch of beach house
surf flows in, lightly froths
foam over fine sand…
sucked back to sea,
leaving castaway shells.
seagulls perch on pier…
launch upward in lazy arcs
where white clouds float,
billow, accumulate into
tranquil dreams…
of sunny tomorrow.

 

 

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photo by lynn

translated celebration

Tonight for poetics at d’Verse, Laura offers translations of poems by non-English poets for us to interpret and respond with a poem of our own…


 

Anniversary

And we go on and on,
neither sleeping nor awake,
towards the meeting, unaware
that we are already there. 

That the silence is perfect,
and that the flesh is gone.
The call still is not heard
nor does the Caller reveal his face.

 But perhaps this might be
oh, my love, the gift
of the eternal Face without gestures
and of the kingdom without form! 

by Gabriela Mistral (1889-1957) – the pen name of Lucila Godoy Alcayaga, was Chilean and the first Spanish American author to receive the Nobel Prize in literature.

 

50th anniversary

oh, my dear,
we would have
celebrated fifty years
together,
if still awake
but here we lie,
on and on
yet
side by side
asleep in
perfect benighted
silence
waiting for day
when our Maker calls
us each by
name
new flesh restored
reuniting with spirit
to fully
savor
the gift revealed
of an eternal kingdom:
to see
face to Face!

 

by lynn__ American poet 1959 –

 

unfrazzled

 

Grandma, screen-shot-2019-08-09-at-3.48.13-pm
who bore seven children,
rambunctious and noisy,
marveled
over my great aunt,
who raised six children,
so well-behaved
that following a meal
she would direct them
once
in a very soft voice…
they would immediately
clear the table
and
wash the dishes.

 


A quadrille  (poem of exactly 44 words) for dVerse Poets Pub with De.

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