minor irritation

got dermatitis?
please don’t do anything rash
if you feel an itch
avoid embarrassment of
acting flaky when face turns red!

amazon explorers

dense tropical jungle hangs heavy
above our dugout canoe as we glide
stealthily on midnight blue waters
mottled with red glow of fluorescent
fish feeding along the muddy banks

our guide shines white flashlight
on canopy of trees that reflect neon
green and yellow back at wide eyes
straining to see into velvet black night

we hear coos, chirps, howls, screams
alongside and above us; both in far
distance beyond coffeed trunks, now
too close…beware a jaguar’s pounce!

Forest Path by Emil Nolde, 1909

______________

Melissa hosts at dVerse poets today. This poem was my first impression of Emil Nolde’s painting. After reading this article about the German expressionist artist also being a Nazi supporter, I wonder if he painted a river/path of blood? This was painted before his joining the “socialist” party but perhaps the violence is within us, waiting to come out…we cannot separate our art from who we truly are.

consider…

one final question

did we love each other well?

dearly departed

give flowers to the living

forgive before forgotten

____________

zinger!

Looks like
winter iz doing
its zing today…
blowing horizontally
snowing astronomically
squirrel rollz itself in snowball
and zings across the driveway
“to the tree, to the tree!”
(to quote Dr. Zing Suess)
stay inside and read, I say,
eat chocolate with greed today.


De Jackson serves quadrilles and zingers today at dVerse poets

gold rush

Photo by Sarah Lachise on Unsplash

______________

trickle creek gold dust

fuels greed for mother lode

boom~bust mining town

see sea shells

Photo by Abhijeet Majhi on Unsplash

______________

by curl of sea, walk curve of sand
wet feet make footprints on dry land
while combing beach for shells we see
to reach, pick up, turn palm of hand
and rinse sand off in waves as we
walk curve of sand, by curl of sea

find abalone, dig clams and snails
put cockleshells in handled pails
spot cowrie, conch or spiraled cone
look up to watch wind fill boat sails
search pools of inter-tidal zone
dig clams and snails, find abalone

________________

Check out dVerse poets where Laura reintroduces us to the “sparrowlet” form

prognostications

Yes, the calendar says that February 2 is Groundhog’s Day. So what’s that to me? I may be a German groundhog but I am NOT getting up for any festivities, especially for Candlemas. I must finish hibernating and am feeling all tuckered out…now please, just let me sleep!

What in tarnation is all that commotion atop my burrow? Stop ringing that #punxsutawney% bell up there! I thought Gobbler’s Knob was a peaceful neighborhood but it’s gone to the prairie dogs, I say. There’s no shadow of a doubt, I’ve had my phil of winter in these parts already!

winter’s soft shadow

falls upon snowy landscape

seek comfort of hearth


Frank hosts haibuns at dVerse poets in observance of Groundhog’s Day…

oklahoma roam

where longhorns gather

hoof prints mark red mud wallow

thirst for open range

near cimmaron riverbed

relics of old chisholm trail

photo by lynn

chill & ague

Kim at dVerse prompts us to write poetry from an optician’s chart using a line of four words in order. The words I used in tanka form are: nose–one–cause–even

my nose is running
its race against sinuses
stiff sniff not enough
one sneeze will cause a series
using even more tissSHOOS!

siren song

hear seagulls crying

salty mist caresses dunes

come walk shrouded beach

hold no regrets

snow birds flee midwest

home for warmer climes

south but cool vortex dips

down to hitch a ride atop

their fifth-wheel camper;

wear winter coats to ward

off winds pushing against

leaf-stripped palms around

covered swimming pool…

Hint: no place like home ?!


Mish hosts quadrille prompt at dVerse: can you take a hint?

negative white space

margin is not
a blizzard of words
obfuscating page’s landscape
with directionally-challenged winds

margin is not
some narcissistic lover
manipulating poor gas-lit partner
into unconditional surrender

margin is not
an adrenaline addict
over-crowding calendar squares
with meaningless engagements

margin is not
an anxious mind
fretting over fearful rhetoric
contrary to obvious truth

margin is not
a malnourished soul
scrolling electronic junkfood
with no appetite for beauty


        margin  is  spacious  living  and  gracious  loving  .

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