serenity

early morning walk

gravel crunches under foot

nature awakens

red-wing blackbird sings on post

whorl of corn plants reach for clouds

on a wing and a prayer

An ekphrastic poem inspired by Tweetspeak’s Creativity Cafe…

children, dreams, and
butterflies quickly flutter by
(bye bye!)
uniquely created,
bold flashes of color
with bright eyes,
soft bodies,
and alert antennae
stretching, reaching
as they fly higher
(how high?)
warming wings in sunshine,
growing stronger in moment
yet delicately designed
emotionally fragile
perfectly asymmetrical
(if you look closely)
and we wonder…
will they become
butterflies drinking nectar
or moths seeking the light?

Five Butterflies by Odilon Redon, 1912

parenthetically speaking

please do not
puncture my poetry
with unwanted or
wanton punctuation

commas i suppose
are required for prose
but totally unnecessary
for terse purple verse

better to be clean
in your cummings
and goings than to
leave a blot or dot

and if you cannot
decide where to pause
feel free to break laws
but be warned that

the punctuation police
are determined to deter
any pregnant poets
who miss a period


Melissa hosts poetics at dVerse and prompts us to write sans punctuation

push “publish”

“I write on these spindrift pages.” — Dylan Thomas


I… personally speaking, myself and not another; singularly and uniquely me

write… to scribble with pencil, flow from ink, or tap on keyboard; to make meaning from letters into words into phrases into poetry

on… immediately active location; ready position; prepared for task; alert

these… things here, not there; close at hand and possessed; opportune

spindrift… mist of music and lyrics like salty spray from crest of wave or wild dusting of snowdrift in gale

[easily confused with spendthrift… who gives away freely, shares extravagantly; both prodigal and profligate]

pages… leaves of a book, spaces on a screen, blanks waiting to be filled in with words and sent into the world!


Take a Dylan Thomas quote, make an acrostic, define your lines! Laura Bloomsbury hosts MTB at dVerse Poets.

provision

large brown egg…still warm

from grass-fed, free-range chicken

work of happy hen!

Happy Mother’s Day!

naturally grown

plant tiny seed
in garden womb
grow like a weed
till out of room

when time is ripe
birth little sprout
stem stretches tall
leaves wave about

water with LOVE

nurture strong roots
let sun chase gloom
wait for the fruits
watch child bloom!

_______

Quadrilles are blooming at dVerse Poets pub where Lillian hosts today. We have a new grandson…see previous post for photo 🙂

complementary

woman takes what man gives,

nurtures and grows it: a child,

a home, a life…together!

_______

Introducing our 18th grandchild, Noah Silas, born on May Day!

attraction

turn on lawn sprinkler

free showers for dirty birds

oh, the worms, the worms!

no ISBN tattoo

Prosery” linked to dVerse poets where Melissa hosts prompt to write 144 words and include the Emily Dickinson quote.


She finished the first draft of her book, a short memoir of sorts. It was precious to her, like a child, and she felt timid to let it out into the world. She asked a teacher friend to read it in its entirety, and requested her to please edit, hoping the process would be gentle. But waiting while her friend edited, was painful, almost like labor. She was, after all, birthing her “firstborn” !

Besides the angst of wondering whether her words were worthy, the new author wrestled with a big choice: to submit to a publishing company or to self-publish? Such a personal project seemed best shared with family, a legacy for the grandchildren. They would be the audience most interested, she reasoned. She would self-publish and give copies away. To concur with a brilliantly prolific poet: “publication is the auction of the mind.”

touchy relationships

(free image from pexels)

_____________

porcupine people

have soft warm underbelly

if loved beyond quills

______________

Inspired by “The Best of You” podcast, episode# 203

meditation on an antique

today (and everyday)
you are the master Potter;
i am wet malleable clay

form and fire me into
your image, as a vessel
both beautiful and useful

like porcelain pitcher
and wash basin, to cheer
and refresh weary travelers

to shine, elegantly off-white
(my basin be slightly crackled)
fill this pitcher with holy water

lovely and ready on wash-
stand, eager to humbly serve
dusty people where needed

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