chrysalis

– for Leanne

caterpillar worm

eating way thru milkweed leaves

inches slowly on

 

stops to shed dead skin

hope curls inside dark cocoon

change from inside out

 

miracle in time

to emerge as butterfly

delicate wings rise

monarch_butterfly_on_flower_196954

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also He has put eternity in their hearts, except that no one can find out the work that God does from beginning to end.”  

-from wisdom book of Ecclesiastes 3:11

perambulatory paradelle

why does the killdeer scream and squawk?

why does the killdeer scream and squawk?

he starts such a fuss when i goes for a walk

he starts such a fuss when i goes for a walk

why i does walk such when he goes squawk

for the killdeer starts a scream and a fuss.

 

i do not desire his nest eggs so small

i do not desire his nest eggs so small

speckled and hidden in ditch grasses tall

speckled and hidden in ditch grasses tall

i do so ditch eggs speckled and small

tall desire hidden in nest grasses not his.

 

through ripening fields of gold tasseled corn

through ripening fields of gold tasseled corn

traveled graveled roads on summer’s morn

traveled graveled roads on summer’s morn

on gold tasseled roads of ripening corn

morn traveled through summer’s graveled fields.

 

why he starts for a walk through his corn

and traveled the gold speckled ditch,

do i not nest a summer’s ripening desire.

when does such tall tasseled killdeer

squawk of graveled eggs and scream on roads?

grasses small morn goes so hidden in fuss fields.

__________________________

Billy Collin’s parody form of the villanelle as featured on MTB at:

http://dversepoets.com/2014/07/31/meetingthebar-formforall-paradelles-i-have-obviously-lost-my-mind/

this is a brain on DMT

My response to poetics by Anthony at dVerse on DMT, or Dimethyltryptamine:

“It’s the most common drug, and also the rarest; our brain secretes the chemical when we go to sleep, and that is what causes us to dream.”

I had recurring nightmares as a child…now most of my bad “mind trips” occur while awake  😉

________

 

cold fear feet

freeze to ground

as hot horde of

mad swordsmen

on war horses

pursue offender

to cliff’s edge

high above surf

pummeling sharp

rocks below;

soft silt crumbles

victim tumbles

falling backwards,

feels salty spray

just before the

shattering

impact—

waking, shaking,

wet with sweat

supine on floor.

 

palpable dark:

glowing eyes,

bristling hairs,

animal breath

on face faking

sleep, flash of

canine teeth

snapping for

exposed jugular;

transform into

one of the pack,

running in the night

howling at the moon

which looms fuller

with body’s lift-off,

swift upward rush

as human rocket

orbits past bright

lunar craters

to free-fall thru

galaxies of stars.

 

lying in bed

wide-eyed and

listening to cellar

door creaking open,

footsteps plodding

deliberately up

basement stairs,

slowly through house and then

another door moans;

heavy footsteps louder

now on stairway

leading to this

attic bedroom—

awaken to sound of

own heart pounding,

lying motionless

wondering if…

it’s waiting.

 

epilogue:

“But I don’t dream!” you say to me.

No dreams at night

may be lack of DMT,

No dreams by day

must be need of poetry!

 

belfry intruders

 

brother’s house at dusk

tossing tennis balls up high

attract bats in flight

 

webbed fingers claw air

phantasy rides on bat wings

flutters in the dark

 

random wild ideas

scratching in the mind’s attic

nightmares fly at dawn

 

Big-eared-townsend-fledermaus

 

Photo credit: big-eared townsend bat, Wikipedia

tides of time

 

droplets

of water,

miniscule

seconds

of time

collected into

myriad foaming

minutes

of salty brine

spraying wildly

off crests

of rolling

hours;

incessant waves,

pounding out

days

upon the shore.

 

an ocean

relentlessly

reclaiming

sands of

years

in wrinkling

imprint on

beaches strand,

leaving us

with shiny

scattered

bits & pieces,

of shells;

lives

iridescent

memories.

 

we pick up

the pretty

moments,

turning

these over

in our hands

to take home

for display

in pint jars

upon shelves,

but best to

leave slimy

clumps of

seaweed

to dry to

brittleness

with the

passage

of time.

 

_______________

http://dversepoets.com/2014/07/24/bold-metaphors-and-images-avoiding-words-like-like-and-as/

Response to Claudia’s  metaphor challenge and Mary’s earlier poetics on “time”.

 

memorium

IMG_4703

 

mourning doves silent

flowers bloom in blood-stained field

under waning moon

 

________

Today the Netherlands observes a national day of mourning for fallen passengers of Flight MH17.

Link to: Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

dear desire

 

build me a mountain

cabin by the sea where i

will write poetry

_____

play me softly slow

making music like cello

strum hum legato

_____

let children live loved

proclaim peace throughout the land

kingdom of heaven

 

lament

 

who will wail 

in mourning?

God in heaven 

must weep

at travesties

wreaked on

humanity by

our inhumanity.

 

who grieves for 

already forgotten?

once innocent

Nigerian school girls

herded like cattle

sold against will

thinly holding dim

hopes of rescue.

 

who still sorrows

brothers’ conflict?

dating back to

Jacob and Esau

renewed with 

deadly rockets

lighting the night

sky over Gaza.

 

who will cry by

empty coffins?

while body parts

lie neglected and

exposed amid

burned wreckage

of passenger flight

downed in Ukraine.

 

humankind is 

possessed by

an amor mortis;

locked in macabre 

gambol with violence;

to whom will death

extend bony fingers,

asking next dance?

 

“They dress the wound of my people as though it were not serious.

‘Peace, peace,’ they say, when there is no peace.”  (Jeremiah 6:14)

 

don’t bug me

 

mid-summer evening

pulling weeds in my garden

mosquitoes singing

—–

grandma, what is it?

fireflies, my little bright one.

oh look — I catched it!

—–

refreshing shower

till earwig crawls out of drain

startles privacy

firefly-pics2

 (photo credit:  Leave No Trace)

virtual ball in Tuscany

abbondanza

invitation to

a poets’ party

yes, i’ll come!

where?  what

better place than

Boboli’s garden;

grounds of the

Pitti Palace, in

fair Florence,

heart of the

renaissance.

 

hanging out

at “the Pub”,

d’Verse Poets,

is part of my

personal poetic

renaissance;

fair garden of

wordsmiths,

each statuesque,

monumental in

creative voice.

 

here i can

find “The (an)

Abundance” of

poetic ideas,

original online

fruits of writers

dedicated to

sculpting marble

thoughts into words

to share veritable

bounty of beauty.

 

raise your hand

clink the glass

give a toast (of

bronze wheat,

golden corn or

ripened vine)

to salute the

“pub tenders”,

party hosts who

serve all a happy

3rd anniversary!

 

_____________

photo: The Abundance 1608 – 1637 by Sebastiano Salvini

Giardino di Boboli at Palazzo Pitti, Florence

 

rock river

 

follow a current

meander under the trees

paddle our canoe

 

portage onto sandy bar

slip into water for swim

 

 

Canoe-Accessories

CDHK word prompt, “meander”  (photo credit: canoe accessories/hitch safe)

high voltage

Link haiku to prompt at   http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.se/2014/07/carpe-diem-512-shiki-2-flash-of.html

 

a flash of lightning

splits mature tree to toothpicks

exploding the air

photo credit: Lois Wielenga

(photo credit: Lois Wielenga 6-18-14)

Previous Older Entries Next Newer Entries