glimpsed thru evergreen
summer blushes crimson red
neighbor’s hollyhocks
cornfields of faeries
follow grandchildren’s ball games
fireflies shine at night
angus cows with calves
graze in heavenly pastures
sweet ruminations
iowa in july
02 Jul 2024 2 Comments
in classical haiku Tags: cows, fireflies, hollyhocks, iowa, July, summer
not surprising
28 Jun 2024 Leave a comment
in american sentence Tags: pagan, sage, spiritual, superstitious
… that pagan, yet spiritual, minds become superstitious in the end.
– after listening to “White Horse Inn” podcast discussion of Michael Horton’s book, Shaman and Sage: The Roots of “Spiritual But Not Religious” in Antiquity
inundated
27 Jun 2024 9 Comments
in tanka Tags: disaster, flood, rain, volunteers, water
mucky floodwater
rain brings too much of good thing
overwhelming force
strikes levees, homes, bridges, schools
volunteers come, help clean up
luminescence
22 Jun 2024 Leave a comment
in Uncategorized Tags: fireflies, flash, hope, prayers
fireflies like prayers
flashes of hopefulness rise…
yet full moon outshines
faith in motion
18 Jun 2024 25 Comments
life’s locomotive rumbles down track
with muscled horsepower multiplied
once it leaves station, cannot turn back
so one must trust train is well-supplied.
who is the engineer guiding this train?
he’s the one who knows the destination
he stays at throttle through sunshine-rain
brings it safely through line’s every station.
i know the conductor, he’s engineer’s son,
my worn ticket he will stamp and receive
i’ll travel with him till my journey is done;
holy faith-powered…you too can believe!
At dVerse poets’ pub, Punam invites us to travel by train. My oldest son worked as a train engineer and gave us this framed print which hangs in our home. “Santa Fe” is translated “holy faith”.
haik-coo
13 Jun 2024 2 Comments
in haiku Tags: birdbath, finch, praise, robin, sing, turtledoves
pair of turtledoves
coo-cooing from tree and roof
to welcome us home
algae in birdbath
orange oriole takes sips
disturbed reflection
sing praise at day’s end
robins echo each other
my heart joins chorus
cavernous musings
11 Jun 2024 18 Comments
in Uncategorized Tags: bat, cavern, magma, stalactites, stalagmites, troll, twilight
Dora at dVerse suggests we explore liminal spaces…
“In the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between them, there are doors.” -William Blake
shadows, jagged and toothy
hang from limestone gums
as sharp stalagmites reach
up from dark jaws of chaos.what hideousness in pit of
earth’s bowels? a creature
vicious as vampire bat or
loathsome as cave troll?dare strap on headlamp
to crawl through dampest
fears? discover passage
into fiery lake of magma?only blind fish and dank
bacteria can exist in space
lost to the conscious world,
bathed in eternal twilight.
miss bibli ophelia
05 Jun 2024 14 Comments
in sonnet, Uncategorized Tags: bibliophilia, book, letters, reader, words
Linking to dVerse poetics and feeling nostalgic with Lillian this evening…
in comfortable chair with eager arms
she opens book to uncover its charms
from pages living letters, words escape
in visions of an author’s storyscape;
such rich imaginations fill her head
with true ideals, aspiring soul is fed.
her heart in chest does real affection swell
how many pleasant hours she’ll not tell;
another’s point of view now understood
to grow inside with character proves good.
she wanders on from scene to shining scene
and wonders what a metaphor might mean.
reader will thrill at unexpected plot;
whether one owns a signed copy or not.
taken by storm
31 May 2024 12 Comments
in onomatopoeia Tags: bridge, clouds, rain, rapids, river, stor, thunder, trees, wind
Linking to dVerse where Bjorn hosts onomatopoeia poetry prompt…
clouds gather darkly
thunder rrrumbles
wind whooshes wild
through trembling trees;
leaves twitter with ppips
of raindrops…plopps on
gravel road…drumms atop
car roof; aloof to river rapids
churling, swirling swiftly along,
rushing, gushing underneath
old bridge as it creaks rustily.
brevity
29 May 2024 1 Comment
in Uncategorized Tags: baby robin, death, grief, hope, lawn, May, murder
grass grows like mad in may
failing to see his brother, i
commit murder with mower.
ashamed…i finish lawn only
to flee indoors from grieving
parents frantically hopping…
hoping a better future for this
adolescent on the edge of life
and flight training; he chirps
mournfully, poops on the deck
railing…still reeling, he flies low
to refuge under lilac’s shadow…
i pray the cats don’t find him.
mono no aware
21 May 2024 18 Comments
in haibun Tags: bride, cats, death, life, lilacs, spring
Mono no aware is not only “a Japanese idiom for the awareness of … the transience of things.” It’s a paradigm through which the Japanese view life. Linking this haibun to dVerse where Frank hosts.
Neighborhood cats chase one another through backyards, loudly caterwauling in the night. Five interested toms follow one breathless tabby who flees under the deck. Food dish is ignored in this spring mating frenzy. Once she’s bred, hormones calm, kittens develop and toms slink away.
Lilacs bud in May, one of the first blossoms to appear. The tight buds open to a thousand tiny flowerets, blooming in bunches of profligate purple display. The delicate scent of each cluster concentrates on fragrant breezes. After a few days, the heads wither and flowers fall.
Young couple speaks wedding vows on sunny May day. The bride wears sleeveless lace gown with tiny corseted waist and magnificent hoop skirt. A fingertip veil, lacey wristlets, and ballet flats complete her bridal finery. She dies of asthma complications a month past their 4th anniversary.
brief season of life
actors pass across the stage
cherish spring vignettes
a poem in my pocket 
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