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Tag: poetry
I Hear Olympia Singing
In April 2017, one of my poems was selected for the Olympia Spring Arts Walk. Another poem, Olympia Almanac, was recently selected for I Hear Olympia Singing: An Anthology of Olympia Poems for the 2018 Fall Arts Walk celebration.
my mother cannot leave me be
My mother cannot leave me be —
she points and clicks repeatedly!
No stage in life is left uncaught,
no quest complete without one pic,
no outing done without one print.
My mother cannot leave me be –
she points and clicks repeatedly!
Each exploit is an o’er-turned stone
of purple shore crab memories
untainted by reality.
My mother cannot leave me be —
She points and clicks repeatedly!
There are no mysteries of time,
each snapshot proof of days gone by
in Kodachrome reality.
My mother cannot leave me be!
knitting friend
The NaHaiWriMo prompts for June 10 and 11 seemed to want to go together as one poem, so here’s a tanka for all my knitting and wine loving friends. By the way, for my budding linguists, I found a website with some lovely pearls of history on knitting words. For example, did you know that the word ravel is a contronym (or Janus word)? Okay — plain talk — its’ meanings contradict each other. Fun stuff. Enjoy!
a bumblebee protection plan
Part I. The Mystery is Introduced
a rusty-patched bumblebee
gone
in an
“ecological poof”
Part II. Our Intrepid Detective Stitches Together the Scene
inside a mating cage
one queen bee
and her toadstool
fungus-fattened drone
with abdomen frozen
the learned result?
colonies starve when only males are born
Part III. Balanced on a Tightwire
trace the monetary tale of global decline
unearth one more case
of disease-carrying colonizers
and ask who
will melt
thirty silver pennies
into a savior’s silver bullet to cure this plague?
**********************************************
The poetry blog imaginary garden with real toads presented a weekend focus challenge on insects and bugs. I did a little digging and found an interesting article on the plight of bumblebees, and then took a side trip into poetry forms. The bumblebee article was much too long to create an erasure (blackout poem) like this one, but I’m looking forward to experimenting. Enjoy!
a cliché-a-day is how to pay the piper
ignorance is free while truth costs 30 silver pence April showers bring only sludge that slowly birth the sun’s defense winter cooks hibernate their tarnished snores fill the air ungreased wheels forget to squeak while crowbars pry up penny nails he burrows deep beneath the roots and grants the cat his flapping tongue questions hide from prying eyes and books come in one color the milk’s so thick it will not spill the hotcakes mold and shrivel with hair piled high, she sits alone trapped by her fun-house image as slow as eyes snared by insomnia find your strength in sameness you only need a single hand to make our circle straighten
Day 13’s NaPoWriMo challenge asked us to play with “turning cliché’s on their head.”
Voila . . . hope it works!
three seeds
three seeds form one to the pop and sizzle of man-made stars above one in perfect intent and hope of family, forever formed one by a spur-of-the-moment, well-stewed gamble three seeds sprout one uprooted to granite and sky two twined together by fear and devotion three hopeful buds, long divided three seeds flower one fears the stigma of pollen’s gift one longs for pollen’s security one grafts a new bud and seedlings emerge three seeds mature one clings tightly to past joys and tears one scorns the common account of years one builds up hope, help for posterity Day 11 NaPoWriMo's prompt inspired a reflection on seeds. Enjoy!
with one voice
NaPoWriMo Day 7 asked us to explore points of view. In my family, we always wonder how it is that the grandparents are so accepting and kind, when the parents were so strict. Perhaps, it’s just the natural progression of things?
back to ground
let me
now
wander
in search
of robin’s
first
song—
in my dreams I sit, send heart and spirit to fly –
the bench
throws
me
back
to
ground
Day 6 NaPoWriMo encouraged us to play adventurously with line breaks. I started with a writing a tanka and then played with line breaks; definitely more art than science.
merely average
And . . . we’re off! NaPoWriMo challenged us to write a poem based on a secret shame, or a secret pleasure. So, you show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.
I seek the Morning Star delivery and reverence the King of the Coast; I snub red and white meat, for a well-aged substitute found only under the rind. Served singly or paired matters not to me; the siren song of my “moreish” delight, must be answered and followed bite after bite. Whether with pinot noir or between toasted bread, I skip the roux to indulge my al dente. Devotee? Mere fan? Enthusiastic addict? I ruefully ponder how scientists can consider 35 pounds per year consumed as merely average.
the unfurling of spring . . .
Less than one day to go, fine friends, for April’s poetry writing challenge month. Every day in April, people across our fair globe free their inner muse. It’s a delightful way to welcome spring. Come out and play!
dandelion dust
Who?
Solitaire
Leaf Jumpers — Unite!
Poetry has been a love of mine for as long as I can recall. Happily, my father preserved one of my earliest childhood efforts, crayon art and all. Given that autumn is upon us and my love for crisp leaves underfoot has not dimmed one jot, it seems reasonable to share this memory from long ago.
