Wednesday, April 23, 2014

T is for Tree

Urban Willow
Urban Willow (Photo credit: Ian Sane)

The world can be a crazy place,
big crowds may be ordinary
but make me crave some breathing space
to sit beneath my willow tree.

Escape is not one time of year,
the brisk air of February
means many layers of cashmere
to sit beneath my willow tree.

Don't think me lonely under here,
my daydreams are legendary;
dragons, fairies, and elves appear
to sit beneath my willow tree.

If you're ever feeling slighted,
in need of a sanctuary,
know you are always invited
to sit beneath my willow tree.

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Tuesday, April 22, 2014

S is for Snow

Yesterday was rain, today we’ve moved on to snow. Today’s poem is a Musette about childhood.

Winter Fun

Flakes fall…
Let's go have a
snow brawl.

sip some cocoa,
get warm.

Next day,
we are snowed in—
more play!

Bryce's first snowman

Monday, April 21, 2014

R is for Rain

I seem to be writing a lot of rain this month. I love the rain. The sound, the smell, the touch. I’m going to start out with an oldie but favorite. The second poem was my villanelle about the weather for day nine. And the last is an Elfje I wrote today.


Red sneakers exchanged for red galoshes,
I wander in the hungry rain.
The green clouds in the stormy sky
Light the lazy edge of the sidewalk
And my dog a dusty wolf
Stalks the myriad puddles,
Hesitating when he finds himself
In the depths of their dim waters.
But I, in my new galoshes,
Lose myself in the worn rain.

waiting in rain
I look out at the rain,
a raging thunderstorm
transforming the terrain.

Run to catch my train…
huddle on the platform;
I look out at the rain--

the lightning is insane,
a light dance in freeform
transforming the terrain.

The train pulls up to its domain--
I clamber on, glad to get warm;
I look out at the rain,

forehead pressed on windowpane
I watch the waters swarm,
transforming the terrain.

At least it's not a hurricane.
Soon we'll reach my dorm.
I look out at the rain
transforming the terrain.

hits pavement
one becomes many
storm clears the air

Note: "Reflections" is a poem from Chiaroscuro, coming soon.

Saturday, April 19, 2014

Q is for Quotes

I’d like to share with you some quotes that really echo how I feel about poetry.

What is poetry?

“Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.”
--Edgar Allan Poe
"Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance."
--Carl Sandburg

Who is the poet?

“A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language.”
--W. H. Auden

Poets don’t publish for the recognition or the money. We do it because we want to connect with the world, with other people. To share human experience and emotion.

"Publishing a volume of verse is like dropping a rose-petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo."
--Don Marquis
“Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.”
--T.S. Eliot
"Poetry is a language in which man explores his own amazement."
--Christopher Fry

And, above all else:

"Musicians must make music, artists must paint, poets must write if they are to be ultimately at peace with themselves.
What humans can be, they must be. They must be true to their own nature." --Abraham Maslow
I am a Poet
A genius in disguise
Forms flow from my fingertips
Words and phrases grow within me
Waiting for ripeness
That moment when I write them
And another poem is born

Friday, April 18, 2014

P is for Paradise

beachTwo views of paradise today. This first poem is my new one, written for the NaPoWriMo prompt for a ruba’i poem, mixed with the Poetic Asides prompt for a weather poem.


tide laps at my toes
washing away my woes
the sky a clean slate
for me to daydream prose

This second poem is an older one, but still rings very true. This is the place I go when I close my eyes, needing sanctuary.

My Quiet Place

A meadow on the hill,
Filled with hues of green;
A gentle slope
Perfect to roll down.
A scent of green, of
Bees humming through the glade;
The sky a blue
So true it sings.
In this meadow lies a cottage--
Simple, yet elegant it stands;
Myriad windows light every room,
Dust fairies dancing in the sun.
A warm breeze fills the air
Bringing scents of fresh cut grass,
Of lilacs, blossoms, roses
Climbing up the walls.
Nothing can harm me here.

What’s your idea of paradise?

Thursday, April 17, 2014

O is for Observer

oak (Photo credit: mindfulness)


Hidden in oak tree's shadow,
I lean forward…
gripping the branch with clawed feet.
He leaves the inn. Laughing,
a toss of burnished hair;
in excitement I almost lose my balance,
flap my wings to steady myself.
He looks up.
I pull back from his piercing green gaze,
burrow my head in my shoulder.
He must not see me.
His footsteps distance, and I
dare to peek again.
A pretty young thing leans
out a window to catch his eye;
I hiss at her, but his attention
already moved on
to assist a woman into her carriage;
she is no beauty, wrinkled as I.
Breath rushes out in surprise.
in my hesitation, I almost lose him,
over rooftops I fly
skittering across tiles
to perch on a ledge.
I crane to see but he enters a shop;
I yearn to follow, to speak to him,
but shudder at the sight he would see.
I retreat to the oak,
settle my crooked back into the hollow,
wrap tattered, filthy wings around ungainly breasts,
and dip my head, that my oily hair
covers my haggard visage.
How would a prince such as he
see past looks to love this harpy?
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Wednesday, April 16, 2014

N is for Night

Fun fact: This quote from my Mom is about me.

I did have one night owl child who still does better at night than in the morning. I tried everything - she just couldn't get to sleep. I eventually gave up and allowed her to stay awake and play quietly (Fisher Price Little People was generally her game of choice )- rule was she had to play very quietly so as not to disturb the rest of the family who actually wanted to sleep...when she got tired she climbed into bed on her own. When she started going to public school and couldn't sleep in, things had to change, but she was a little more willing to understand and cooperate by then.

barn_owl_1I can’t stay up as late as I used to, but I am still a night owl. Mornings make me sluggish. I tend to get a lot of ideas in bed trying to sleep, when my creative mind refuses to shut off.

Two very different night poems for you today. These were written earlier this month.

This first poem was written from NaPoWriMo’s prompt to write a rhyming charm poem.

Charm of Night

I ask for sweet dreams
with the birth of this charm
flower of buckwheat
protects me from harm

feather of owl
to watch as I sleep
sprinkled with moondust
to make my dreams deep

amethyst stone
will calm the mind
then strips of willow
will this charm bind.

This second poem was for day 13’s prompt on Poetic Asides. The prompt was to write an animal poem, and as a bonus challenge to make it a sestina. I wrote about a creature of the night with an animalistic nature.

The Reign of the Night

Brothers walking in the rain,
our destination nowhere;
afraid to prove
what we already knew --
that our string of lies
wouldn't get us through the night.

We find a barn late in the night,
shelter from the soaking rain…
but danger in the shadow lies,
tooth and claw tear us where
lifeblood flows, I know
this the end will prove .

We die and rise the same, and prove
ourselves creatures of the night--
a taste for blood I hadn't known,
the cravings I try to rein;
my brother finds a dame from somewhere,
paints her as a whore, but I sense lies.

I sense her heartbeat where she lies;
I turn away, my honor to prove
and make one little room, an everywhere
within to contain night;
I will not let it reign,
I must keep saying no.

My brother insists, he knows
resisting is a lie,
with our new life we can reign,
to our debtors prove
we will rule the night;
we can go anywhere.

It is a strange world where
my brother is the one to know ,
the one to lead the night;
I will see where his path lies,
let him be the one to prove
that he can take the reins.

I fall into where the darkness lies,
abandon humanity I know would not approve,
surrender myself to night's reign.