Midwinter Blues

Midwinter Blues

 

I dream of days beyond the winter's chill

with snowfall totals more than I can bear

and there is still more that is on the way.

I take my sled to the top of the hill

to try to dispel feelings of despair

trust my sled in the wind will glide and sway.

I down the hill to experience thrill

and navigate turns with a special flare

overcoming usual feet of clay.

I pray I will avoid a nasty spill

as I enjoy a thrill beyond compare

in the mirth of a midwinter day.

The wind stings my face as I fly downhill

oh winter I have surely had my fill.

 

This is a trireme sonnet, weitten for dVerse Form For All under the direction of Sam Peralta. The structure of the sonnet is:  ABC-ABC-ABC-ABC-AA. Thanks, Sam, it was interesting to give this form a try.

The Test

The Test

The tester sits beside him, her eyes are not kind;

she points to the paper, but all he sees are her eyes.

Follow the pattern: star circle triangle star circle.

What next? He doesn't know, he doesn't follow.

What next? He is afraid to try; his brain hurts.

She calls him naughty, her eyes glare,

she taps her pencil, his skin pales.

He doesn't know, she taps louder, louder.

He puts his hands over his ears and screams

the scream of a trapped animal to douse the pain.

She grabs his arms so hard it hurts, and her eyes glare

as she whispers in a voice from hell "I told you so."

This was written for Poets United Verse First where the prompt was "patterns," and also for Three Word Wednesday, where we had to use the words douse, naughty, and pale.   Also submitted for Poetry Pantry #140

Illogical

Illogical

She has more of certain things

than she will need in years

but still buys more

and thinks nothing of it.

Yet she recognizes when others

have more than they need

stored in their closets,

pantry, spare room.

It is much easier to see

the illogic in others' lives

than to recognize what

others see in one's own.

Written for Poetry Jam for the prompt:  Illogical!

February Santa

February Santa

Everyday we pass a waving Santa Claus

still guarding  the front yard of a neighbor's house.

Everyday when we wave to him as we pass,

one of us mentions it is already past Valentine's Day
and the other wonders if he will still be there on Easter
when there should be an Easter Bunny instead
and perhaps some decorated eggs.

Today I added to our usual chat that people were lazy

for not taking Santa down by now, but she said no,
they were probably working so hard, were tired,
didn't have time or had more important things to do--
a much kinder view than my own, reminding me
there are different ways to assess something and
I can continue to learn much from a five-year-old.

This poem is shared with dVerse Open Link!

Contemplation

Contemplation

 

I contemplate my mortality tonight

as I sit with a stack of poetry books

and a dog pulling on my sock

trying to incite me to play with him.

But my mind is on deeper things

like what would happen if........

and what is my purpose anyway....

and what would my obituary say....

My dog loses interest in my sock

climbs in my lap to warm me,

in between the Tony Hoagland

and Jane Hirshfield,

and I make a conscious decision:

tonight nothing else matters.

 

This was written to submit to Imaginary Garden With Real Toads: Sunday Mini Challenge - 14 liners & also to submit to Sunday's  Poets United Poetry Pantry.    

"Resting" and "Alone"

 

 

Resting

 

Silent sunset bird sits

soundlessly on the telephone wire,

thinks solitary thoughts,

waits for something to happen

before night falls and covers all.

Not knowing future,

it is destined to wait.



 

Alone

Alone

all day I drift with the breeze;

higher and higher I rise,

try to discern

where I am going.

Knowing I am powerless

and time to soar is finite,

I pray my descent will be gentle

when I fall.

 

 

 

These two short poems were written in response to the wonderful artwork of Kelvin S.M., which were offered (with his permission) as part of his  prompt at dVerse Poetics.  I called my poems "Resting" and "Alone" -- the same names that Kelvin used for his artworks.  Thanks, Kelvin!

Fate

Fate

Fate
fickle
fearful force
fingers who he will
friend or foe of no one at all
laughs as he rolls his die to foreordain who falls next.

Fate
hides face
in shadow
holds life in his hands
determines when the ax will fall;
there can be no retreat from what is reserved for you.

Fate
your words
make me quake
your hardness shakes me
and though I am not one to beg
I beseech you to please be gentle with me just this once.

Fate
kind guide
I implore
grant me your mercy
smile on me as you choose my lot
bestow on me the good I wish but do not merit.

This was written for Poets United Verse First, where Kim has prompted us to write fibonacci poems! I find them quite fun to write!  I call this my "Fate Series."  The first set I wrote was my 'Life Series (two days ago), and this series really is my favorite...but I wanted to write a fib exclusively for "Verse  First," thus "Fate."  Though, if you have time look back at my "Life" and "Stripes" both also new!

Stripes

Wikimedia Commons

Stripes

I. 

Stripes
zebra
black and white
pattern unique to
each zebra, no two are the same --
beautiful beasts firmly resist domestication.

II.

Stripes
and prints
don't wear them
together they say
but she ignores convention
wears stripes with prints and people admire her taste.

III.

Stripes
kitten
small stuffed toy
my granddaughter found
when we went to shop at Goodwill --
she chose his name immediately, it stuck fast.


These are three separate fibonacci poems written for Peggy's prompt at Poetry Jam.  Her prompt this week was Your Stripes, My Stripes!

Life

Life

Life
will not
always bless
us all with perfect
happiness but we have no choice
but to find a way to abide with what life presents.

It may often seem that contentment is illusive
hiding beyond the horizon
a dancing shadow
we can't touch
out of
view.

Thus
we must
live each day
ignore the shadow
and perform the survival dance
as vigorously and passionately as we can.

I am submitting this for dVerse Open Link .  It is a  Fibonacci Poem.

Also shared with Imaginary Gardens and Real Toads Open Link.

The Beach

Oahu, Hawaii

The Beach

I remember the ocean
the azure blue waves
with their own constant rhythm
balmy tropical wind on my face
the sun from unclouded sky
the warmth of sand
the salty taste of  air
the hours we'd spend on the beach
laughing as we revelled in waves.

I remember how far out out you'd go
above your head to scare me
then bob up and down and laugh at me
for my fear which you didn't share
as I hung closer to the shore.

I remember the sound of salty waves
how I imagined they tried to swallow me
approaching from eternity perhaps
as I drifted drifted drifted with you
free as a dolphin splashing with glee
not yet knowing that time was short
soon only memories would remain

and I'd be left standing alone
as you traveled to a distant shore
where I cannot yet follow
but I still see you  in the waves
          and you are laughing.

This was written for dVerse Poetics: Leonard Cohen and Place, which I am hosting. I hope you will stop over and read  my article and then   write about a memory of a place that has emotional significance to you (tied with another person or not), giving the place atmosphere.  Or just write something which is triggered by your own knowledge of Leonard Cohen's songs and poems.

I am also linking this with Poets United: Poetry Pantry.

Winter's End

Wikimedia Commons

Winter's End

Short days do slowly lengthen
in fickle February,
the sun more filled with promise than
in bleak January.

Thus
frost will recede,
its
streak at long last broken.

Winter's desolation will end,
small signs visible now
that green is plotting resurgence
beneath the melting snow.

This was written for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, in response to Fireblossom's challenge.  The poem had to have three stanzas of four lines apiece.  The first and third stanzas were 8,6,8,6 syllables.  The second stanza was 1,4,1, 6 syllables.  I followed the form exactly!  I enjoy forms.

Sacrifice

Wikimedia Commons

Sacrifice

From the moment a child is born

twenty-four hours a day

eighteen years (or more)

time, money, activities

all governed by needs of a young life.

But along with the sacrifice

comes the gift of connection and love

that makes everything worth it

and all that was given up

in other areas of living

totally insignficant

in the light of each new day.

This was written for Laurie's first prompt at Poetry Jam this week.  The prompt is "Sacrifices."  It definitely took a bit of thought.

Thinking of Leonard Cohen

Leonard Cohen - Wikimedia Commons

Thinking of Leonard Cohen

Younger, I listen to Leonard Cohen
lying in front of my record player,
records spread out across the floor,
music playing loudly, unaware
of the passage of time, caught in
feelings of loneliness, love found,
love lost, hotel rooms in big cities,
dreams, yearnings, places and people,
years lived and years passing by.

Today I think about life in that past
and wonder still what my future will be
and how it is Leonard Cohen with his voice
of gravel can still capture so much with his
words, and his music can transport me
to that place deep within my mind
as I listen to the same songs on an I-pod.
Music still has the ability to transform,
inspire poetry, and give birth to dreams.
I listen to Cohen, and I am ageless,
and everything still very possible.

This is shared with dVerse Open Link.  I have been walking the track lately.....listening to Cohen music.  It really does transport me.

Letting Go

Wikimedia Commons

Letting Go

There are  those seasons of letting go
as well as times things simply slip away
because as children grow things happen
so slowly that you may not comprehend
until they live elsewhere on their own.

And then you'll sit with your memories
remembering the times when children
were always in places you could see;
you realize how distant those times are
how much all lives have changed.

Letting go of children is not always easy
nor is the relentless dance of time,
but the sands of life continue to shift and drift
through the hourglass one grain at a time
whether we let go of the past freely...or not.


This is written for dVerse Poetics, where Claudia  'tending bar' and having us write about 'letting go.' I am also submitting this for Poets United Poetry Pantry (open link).

My Hero

My Hero

He is my hero, he is my love;
he is the man of the road,
nothing will slow him down.

He is a race car driver
maneuvering that icy stretch;
no fear pounds in his breast.

I love his skill and daring
as much as I love his fancy car
he brags was built for speed.

He weaves in and out of traffic,
a superior smile on his face,
as he barrels through snow.

He won't let anyone suggest
he should drive for conditions;
he'd say Stay out of my way.

He is my hero, he is my love;
the ultimate man of the road who
would like to take you for a ride.

I wrote this poem for my own prompt at  Imaginary Garden With Real Toads.  The prompt was to write a  Love (Not) poem.  It was inspired by some drivers I have seen driving in snowy conditions!

I am the Child

I am the Child

I am the child holding her mother's hand
     the one who didn't want to let it go
     the one who didn't want to go to school
     the one who was afraid and showed it
     the one who wanted to hang on forever
     to what was safe and the known.

I am the child who thought
     on her first day of kindergarten,
     Please don't make me
     just take me home.

I am the adult who cherishes that child grown
    the adult who now holds her own hand
    as she implores Please don't make me
    I'd rather just stay at home.

This was written for Victoria Slotto's prompt at dVerse Poets: Meeting the Bar: Mining the Memory.  She had us looking back into our childhood.  This poem reminisces a bit about my very first memory.

Deceit

Deceit


She enticed
others with secrets,
nervously maintained her dignity
while she claimed naive innocence.
Therefore, she avoided  merciless prying questions
which would assault her otherwise faultless reasoning
and  would expose her as merciless scorpion:
nothing simple, exploring evil, an exact image projected
on the sidewalk as she packed her bags, left
as cautiously as an opossum whose image was caught in
the shadow of a movie projector on a sweltering August day.

This was written for two prompts.  First of all, it was written for Kim's  Poets United: Verse First - One Word at a Time.  The first line had to have two words, second line three, 3rd line four, etc.  The title had to have one word.  Second of all, it was written for Shay's prompt at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads: "A List"  She presented a list of 30 words, and we had to use them or a form of them in a poem.  I used more than 20 of them in this poem!!  (If anyone gets an exact count, please let me know. LOL.)  Sometimes a poet just has to have fun!

YES! and NO

YES!

Mother asked

Are you awake?

His answer simply YES!

Mother asked

Are you out of bed?

His answer quickly YES!

Mother asked

Are you almost ready?

His answer unhesitatingly YES!

Mother opened bedroom door;

where did she find him?

GUESS!

------------------------

NO

No voice
no smile
no laugh
no touch
can replace yours.
Never.

These were written for Poetry Jam, where the prompt this week is to write a YES and/or NO poem!

Please

Wikimedia Commons

Please

I know you don't want me,
that you regret my existance,
are embarrassed by me,
wish I didn't live but I do live
and you made it happen.
And you can't undo your action.

Don't you know I have your genes,
no small thing but I am part of you;
though if you are sure you don't want me
someone else has been praying
to have someone like me. Someone
will love me, and I will love them.

I haven't lived yet, want to see
what life is all about, to breathe
and see and hear and think;
maybe I can make a difference
One person can, you know.
Let me live, I implore you.

Please.

This is shared with dVerse Open Link.

The Shadow

The Shadow

I walk with my granddaughter
on a  below-zero winter day
when the rarely visible sun
for once makes its presence known.

She looks ahead at her shadow
as it dances in front of her,
smiles, says Am I ever getting tall!
and I parrot her joy,  You sure are.

And she IS, but what I don't say aloud is
I wish you would stay ONLY this tall always,
ONLY this age always; but then I realize
I have wished that about her every age.

This is written for dVerse Poetics where Karin is having us write about shadows.   This happened yesterday as we were walking FAST from the car to the gym.  I WISH I had taken a photo.

No Pictures Please

Wikimedia Commons

No Pictures Please

In my phantasmagoric life
everyone clamors for my attention
as if I am a rock star
and I  shoo paparazzi away
like the vultures they are
but I don't mind the fame
and I don't mind the money
and I don't mind the lifestyle
but please, no cameras
when I'm sunbathing nude on the beach!

This was written for Laurie's prompt at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads: A Word With Laurie.  She presented us with the word "phantasmagoric.'  Well, this is what I came up with.  Smiles.