spring dances againcomfort in renewalbuds billowingbees hoveringbirds trilling sky shimmeringnature is rebornsolace blooms~gratitude~blooms solacereborn is natureshimmering skytrilling birdshovering beesbillowing budsrenewal in comfortagain, dances spring I wrote this poem for the Wea’ve Written Weekly poetry prompt. This week’s challenge comes from Punam who asks us to do the following: The palindrome poem looked incredibly challenging toContinue reading “Encore”
Tag Archives: Poetry
April Buds
The morning chorus of birdsong greets me under a gray-cloaked sky.We sip coffee on the back porch in sweatshirts, hoods pulled tight around our faces as the first tentative raindrops scamper across the yard, blipping onto the peeling paint,spreading out into Rorschach blobs that test our springtime fortitude. I wrote this poem for this week’sContinue reading “April Buds”
Who am I and What is My Purpose?
the sunrise over a flooded riverbed–now mid-day, or maybe sunset instead,the soft-spoken advice that leads you homethe messy-haired head lost in a tomethe crinkled leaf upon that same riverthe freckled skin, the dry hands that sliverthe mothering arms for ready embracethe struggling teacher longing for gracethe light feet dancing from place to place This poemContinue reading “Who am I and What is My Purpose?”
Ocean Stranger
Ocean, you rippling stranger,carrying unknown danger to a land-locked wanderer like me.I could stare for hours in wonder at your hypnotic waves, skipping rocks across the smooth surface,investigating the mysteries left behind at low tide, plunging headfirst in abandon into seaweed, nearly caressing the curves of painted coral, dripping footprints on shell-crumbled sands, and dozingContinue reading “Ocean Stranger”
Tristan & Isolde
the storm of love’s intentonce content with play and rusenow bound by tragic melody as strident calls echo in tunetwo paired hearts so powerlesscourting potion through to doomthe harmony of life’s sunrisenow blurred by darkened cloudsbut the weightless souls eternalentwine beyond the sodden ground I wrote this poem for this week’s We’ave Written Weekly atContinue reading “Tristan & Isolde”
I heard a wilted flower speak
one morning, bland and weak,I heard a wilted flower speakof our future tribulationsof our far-off destinationsour technicolor tapestrylife’s seeming mystery to mea tightly coiled secret kepta trepid toil oversteppedthe whisper of earth’s voicea shiver scattered once or twicelike autumn’s petals in the windall our summer days rescinded This poem was written for this week’s Wea’veContinue reading “I heard a wilted flower speak”
Black spruce sentry
A century-old sentry, I’ve stood vigilantat the river’s edge.A surveyor of nature’s glory:the glisten of crisp iceand snowmelt that poolsat my roots,the flicker of the moon’swarm glow scamperingacross my branches,smoother than the boldstare of summer’s sunrays,or the wind that stirs needles and flowers culled from my shadows by deer and hare, or the eddies thatContinue reading “Black spruce sentry”
Rain Dance
in one moment, the earth becomesbeauty in place of pain, levityin place of rain, heartbeat scatteredacross a blood-red sky. Life succumbsto the dance of earth’s frail gravity,the freedom of loose-limbed revelry,the earthquake’s reign that shatteredour peace, the touch of rain now free This poem was written for the Wea’ve Written Weekly prompt. This week’s promptContinue reading “Rain Dance”
Hot Chocolate’s Embrace
We coast down hills fluffy with nature’s reminiscence. Rays ofsun scramble acrossthe tree’s fragilelimbs. Light scatters taperedshadows on our hands andfaces despite the frigid air.Warm mugs of cocoainvigorate ussend a soothing humfrom the first, rich sipto the final dregs. I wrote this poem for the W3 prompt from the Skeptic’s Kaddish. Despite the cold weatherContinue reading “Hot Chocolate’s Embrace”
Sconnie Love
Love is playfullike autumn’s trees,or da stop-and-go-lights,colorful, ever-changing, dancing in a sudden breeze.Love shimmerslike a squeaky cheese curd and evolves likea Brandy Slush sitting on a January porch,sometimes chilly but always warming.Love is as sweetas a couple-two-three Kringles with fruit filing, smooth and decadent, savored like a short-lived Sconnie summer. I wrote this poem forContinue reading “Sconnie Love”
Words and Coffee Writing 