crunch under
my steps
over ersatz
spread snow
replenish
the feeder
cast seed
for the crew
doves hogging
the bounty
let others
go hang
this fool’s day
with icing
starts off
with a bang
_________________________
NaPoWriMo 2017 day 1! We’re off to the races, rabbit rabbit rabbit. This was a fun prompt since I’m not much for rhyme, but it always comes (slowly) if given some time.
perhaps the stars
hold memories
diamond pinholes
punched in winter black
life stretched
across infinity
expanding overhead
even as my focus
might be squeezing in
and only looking back
a tempting counterweight
to shrinking time
well nuts to that
I’ll take the milky way
with thanks
refusing blinkered days
or thoughts
and will not shut
all possibility away
this heart and soul
are slated to remain
open for business
indefinitely
all eyes as one
single voices
become
this great body
balanced on
a razor thin
tipping point
we sing
full throat
to ecstasy
the music stops
I fall into
the abyss of silence
tears flowing
__________________________________
the moment after the end of a great piece. for Cailin Manson, who took us there.
there are trees here too
grown out of deep soil pockets
heads above the hardy root dug
mountain friends of home
this gathered woody host a nest
to hold a house containing
every one I love
still sleeping as the light
creeps up all cloudy
through the rain
a christmas only minds eye white
no clear skied sunrise
catching tree tops
by surprise
red bronze briefly
glistened by those gone ahead
dropstrings of love and memory
beams creak awake
almost the hour
for letting loose small bodies
counting moments since last night
behind me thumps and sighs
two sets of eyes meet mine
my patient dogs
the first gift of the day
belongs to them
and we are kitchen bound
_____________________________________
a small gift of words, a time filled with more love than things, christmas as it should be. my heart is very full.
there is a moon
that reaches back in time
to sit quite full alongside
backlit clouds
that boost the light
cast onto curved tile roof
and night gray city street
our last call crocodile
glides on to bed and quiet dark
obedient walkers all
despite their adolescent hearts
raving under brown tweed shells
my mind afire I long for
for home’s imagined warmth
yet balance on the cusp
of life to come
un ruled un uniformed
and dream of flying free
certain of that magic
reaching out to touch
this lunar wave
a witches moon to rile
my adolescent soul
its glow a path
I’ve wandered
ever since
_______________________________
the title of this poem has been a companion for many years. I am very grateful that it waited for me and for the poem to catch up.
gift from love’s pilgrim
my words have danced in your heart
they leap free again
_____________________________________
yesterday the Third Cousins Club met again. three cousins, Cassie, Elizabeth, and me, descended in separate lines from the same great great grandfather, knowing nothing of the others until an accidental discovery grew into a connection that has joined three family lines. Elizabeth’s sister Susan was there at the beginning with all of us, but she died this year. So Elizabeth has just made what I can only think of as a pilgrimage to the ocean places they loved together. what a brave and loving sister gift this was, saying goodbye again, ashes left to be a part of memories.
standing still
feet feeling steady rock
in unfamiliar balance
time stops it seems
a blink really
the stream
of then to next
flowing over and around
and somehow through
bones in a shiver
of recognition
no longer straining
to spring free
of oz like cages
revealed as
weightless frauds
their power merely dust
looks ahead
so curious about
what comes next
but firmly rooted
in this moment
and leaps from
rock to rock
given over to
joy at last
morning brings the flowering world
to wait outside my door again
its gift complete
an honest bounty within reach
I glance away, and in
that moment sun arms
leap above the mountain ridge
to cast breath stealing light
and startle me to unexpected joy
when happiness, no simple thing
arriving first was present
and most certainly enough
light’s twin is thought
conjoined with time
its tipping point
arrived at step by step
the pilgrim mind walks on
until the heart is open
and able to receive
the sudden glimpse of truth
accepting the muse
black head warms my foot again
reaching for note book
_________________________________
Horace likes to sit under the kitchen table when I write, with his head across my foot. I had planned to write later in the day today, but clearly my muse thought otherwise.
what don’t I remember?
my collier brother brain
hoards words and time
with colors joining hands
to sing their song
I don’t remember
any moment spent
without a color wash
intensity of thought
I don’t remember
understanding those who hate
preferring to destroy
instead of build
I don’t remember
living days or nights
without a music counterpoint
embers into torches lighting memory
I don’t remember
sunsets painted on the undersides
of clouds or nature come to flower
without feeling joy almost to tears
______________________________________
A leftover prompt, from Day 29. Things remembered, and what they weren’t.
as words begin their dance
glancing out at spring
sitting down at last to write
confident of its receipt
asking for serenity
another day a perfect gift
reflecting and give thanks
I close my eyes to sip
hand cupping warmth
coffee and the ritual of smell
checking lilacs apple buds
birds scatter at the noise
opening the outer door
woods featureless and flat
moving softly hug the quiet
slightly damp delight
one slipper at a time
morning work for dogs
stretch sloughing sleep’s cement
a feather shawl to float away
night journey remnants linger
as clouds replace the sun
light diffuse and gray
dog nose to tail against my arm
first awareness as I wake
a dream departs
________________________________
Day 28. I loved writing this. The prompt was for an event or story in reverse.
for years every morning I drank
long drafts of the world
without knowing
that words lay in wait
to flash like sunbeams
unable to dance quietly
until the moment of ambush
for years I would tuck away
the sight of throat caught beauty
in dull green strong boxes
to sit on bare wood shelves
until I could not wait
another moment of another minute
to feel and see again
for years words found me
some refused to leave
sticky stubborn things
and now, well now I recognize
them as old friends that held the dam
until one day they stepped aside
to release the flood
as I surrendered
__________________________________________
Day 25 part 2. The NaPoWriMo prompt was to borrow the first line of a favorite poem, and use it as a jumping off point for a new poem. I chose the first line of Mary OLiver’s Mornings at Blackwater.
Thoughts on and off the trail of Life.
This Blog is about discovering the magic of forests in every aspect of life from a small plant in a metropolis to the forests themselves
another day in the joy of making connection
it could be that
an online literary journal
Just another WordPress.com weblog
a journey with spirit
- A Quarry House Blog
Poetry. Photography. Thoughts
life's wHeirdness and wonder
A great WordPress.com site
One Southern Girl's Life in Vermont
Finding My Voice
poetry & essays
Exploring Nature in New Hampshire
I am the proudest.
Quilts, potholders and handbags out of recycled clothes and fabric
By Diane Fiore
Life on the farm...life in general.
Making beautiful marks on my world
Life and death and sleeping on the ground
