To Touch the Moon

By Catrin Welz-Stein

To Touch the Moon

Each night outside my window view
I see the moon high in the sky
and try to find my hope anew
each night outside my window view
I climb the ladder in shades of blue
and try to hang the stars so high
each night outside my window view
I see the moon high in the sky.

My stilts help me to climb so high
that I can almost touch the moon
as I hang  stars to beautifiy
my stilts help me to climb so high
there's so much beauty in the sky
and I can  whistle a happy tune
my stilts help me to climb so high
that I can almost touch the moon.

This triolet is written for dverse Poetics, where Claudia is tending bar, and we are writing to the art of Catrin-Welz-Stein.  Also shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Ripe Fruit

Ripe Fruit

There is something about 
ripeness of apples this time of year
that reminds me that life is NOW,

today, rich, mature, yet full of promise,
ready to bite into and thus to savor
the tang of zesty fruit with lips and tongue

before finally swallowing its pulp
mindfully, not carelessly,
one tantalizing bite at a time.

This was written for G-Man's Friday Flash 55 and was inspired by my visit to  an apple orchard with my granddaughter's kindergarten class this week.

Death Comes When It Will

Death Comes When It Will

Death comes when it will

knocks on the door

does not need a key

an uninvited visitor

who cannot be refused

eyes intent, motives clear

there is nowhere to hide

frantic pleas unanswered

all will soon go dark.

Death comes when it will

does not respect persons

has its own agenda

impels even strong to cower

arrives fore-ordained

too late for regrets

book closed, bound, shelved

only to be re-opened

on Judgment Day.

Victoria is 'tending bar' over at dVerse Form for All today.  She prompts us to write of a difficult or spicy subject using imagery or metaphor to make a point. 

Interconnected

Interconnected

No one lives this life alone
hand in hand with others we walk
connections strong, connections fragile,
we cannot navigate these shores alone.

No one walks these paths alone
there is no perfect independence
our hand is held, our feet are guided,
we cannot navigate these shores alone.

No one can really exist alone
we try sometimes but always fail
we find we need others as they need us
we cannot navigate these shores alone.

No one lives this life alone
hand in hand with others we walk
each of us has a role in the universe,
we cannot navigate these shores alone.

This is written for Kim's prompt at Poets United.  Interconnected.

October

October

Embrace October
hold it close to your breast
welcome its presence into your life
do not dread the chill in the air,
the falling of leaves, the losses borne,
the shadow of death on the horizon.

Death is not yet, death is not yet.

Embrace October
appreciate the gifts it brings,
the new beauty, the fresh outlook,
a time of love and reflection.
Slow down to look again
at what is important and true.

You'll feel it yet, you'll feel it yet.

Embrace October
with all its contradictions,
possible alongside impossible,
not looking back, nor far ahead.
Live today with October's bounty,
know you have only this day.

You have it yet, you have it yet.

This is written for Poetry Jam, where the prompt is OCTOBER.

Autumn

Autumn

There are some years autumn is cliche:
beauty put to rest for another year
leaves fall as the world spins to winter
and we all know the rest of the story
as the funereal theme repeats again.

But what if we gave autumn a new agenda
instead of the passage toward death
it would be the transition toward rebirth
and winter would be far from cold
a warm fire dancing in the hearth.

There are some years autumn is cliche
as we look at it with melancholic eyes
but if we visualize an eternal blaze of glory
and see more color than there was before
would we cherish and savor  autumn more?


Written for dVerse Open Link Tuesday.

Young Man

Young Man

Young Man,

I hope you will never wear

a man's version of the small fatigues

you wear today

but if you do,  I hope you will wear them

with the same pride I now see on your face,

your small hand grasping  the American flag.

You are too young to know

the price of freedom and peace

paid by those willing to serve,

determined to do battle if necessary

for principles many times fought for,

hard won and hard maintained,

by those willing to act, not only speak,

in answer to their nation's call.

But as someone who loves you

I pray that someday

there will be no need for battles

the price of freedom

will have been paid in full

and there will be real peace.

This poem is written for dVerse Poetics- Celebrate Peace Day   where I am 'tending the bar' today.  As it is the International Day of Peace today, we are writing poems having anything at all to do with peace: Global peace, peace between peoples, inner peace, etc. Photo from Wikimedia Commons.    I am also sharing this poem with Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Words

Words

What happens to the words
of all the poems I meant to write?

What happens to the words
I lose in the night?

Do they go underground
and return again another day?

Are they reborn on the morrow
in yet another way?

Or do they simply drift out of sight
forgotten forever, up and away?

This is written for G-Man's 55!
55 words exactly.

To Soar with an Eagle

To Soar with an Eagle

I see an eagle in the sky

and wonder where it flies

I want to ride upon its wings

and with it soar the skies.

I’d love to rise above the trees

and view the earth below

to savor the beauty of God's world

redemption’s afterglow.

I’d fly above the mountain peaks

then circle to the sea

before the return to  forest home

with inner harmony.

I see an eagle in the sky

and wonder where it flies

I want to ride upon its wings

and with it soar the skies.

This is written for dVerse Form For All, where we are writing ballads.  The picture is from Wikimedia Commons.

Just Past Center

Just Past Center

Just past center is where I reside
the median being the great divide.

No longer young but not quite old

not really shy but never said to be bold.

Far from bland with more than a bit of spice

distant from naughty but not always nice.

Never foolish, but not completely bright

not far left but not approaching right.

Not unattractive, tending toward snappy
far from sad, still aiming for happy.

Not really bored, as I approach pleasure

not falling apart, but far from together.

Not one to throw out, one more apt to keep
distant from  shallow, tending toward deep.

Just past center is where I reside
the median being the great divide.

This poem was written for Poets' United Verse First, where the prompt was "Just Past Center."  Sounds like life!  Smiles. Also submitted to Real Toads Open Link.

Battles

Battles

So many battles yet to fight
the stakes in each are very high
we pray the world will see the light

and keep the goal within its sight
though plans may often go awry
so many battles yet to fight

we know they will not end tonight
so many people had to die
we pray the world will see the light

as  hatred is a horrid blight
and war is something to decry
so many battles yet to fight

we hope the future will be bright
and energy will beautify
we pray the world will see the light

and change its wrong into the right
though often we will question why
so many battles yet to fight

we pray aloud   look to on high
and hope somehow no more will die
so many battles yet to fight
we raise our voices to the sky.

This  VILLANELLE is written for Peggy's prompt at Poetry Jam.  The prompt is Battle.  Please join us.

She Opened Her Eyes

She Opened Her Eyes 

She opened her eyes
and found herself in
the middle of a crowded room
people walked past
as if she were not there
and talked about her
as if she could not hear
and when she opened her mouth
to refute the words
no sound came out
so she spoke to herself
telling herself her truths
until she closed her eyes
again and disappeared.

For dVerse Open Link Tuesday.

All Things Come....

All Things Come...

All things come to he who waits
continues to run through my head.
since childhood I have waited
I'll probably wait til I'm dead.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
but what's the point of knowing?
I'd rather deny existence of ashes
While wild oats I am sowing.

Bread always falls buttered side down.
Yup, I have always known that.
Whenever I think I've figured life out,
all my grand ideas go splat.

To burn the candle at both ends
makes perfect sense to me
until I fall asleep trying to watch
the movie I waited so long to see.

Cut off your nose to spite your face.
Yes, I surely have been blameworthy.
Makes me mad when I stoop that low
and turned my thoughts topsy turvy.

This is written for dVerse Poetics: You Said It, where Shanyn prompted us to write (my loose interpretation) about words that run through our head.  The first line of each of the above stanzas is a saying I've known since childhod.  And they come into my mind at the drop of a hat.  Smiles.   I will also share this with Poets United Poetry Pantry Sunday for a 'cool' Open Link.

Simple

Simple

My poetic words may be simple

but what's wrong with simple

if it helps someone understand

complexities of love or hate,

birth or death,  fear or acceptance?

I believe we complicate life

with big words and over-analysis

when what we really need to 

do is live our passion, LIVE.

We really need more simple.

This is written for G-man's 55!

Play Me

Play Me

Don't play me music when I'm gone
No
don't play me music when I'm gone
run your bow to and fro today
but don't play me music when I'm gone.

Let me feel the rhythm
the rhythm of your bow
play me
sway me
romance me before I go.

Play me high notes
play me low notes
accentuate the beat
make me feel
make it real
sweep me off my feet.

Work the strings
make them  sing
fingers find their place
a tuneful chord
is my reward
your instrument embrace.

Don't play me music when I'm gone
No
don't play me music when I'm gone
run your bow to and fro today
but don't play me music when I'm gone.

This is written for dVerse Form For All, where Gay is having us write JAZZ poems!  The image comes from Wikimedia Commons.

Lost

Lost

So many unsaid words I have  lost
words that should have been said
words of love
words of compassion
words of understanding
words of praise
words of joy
soon forgotten unspoken
then permanently lost.

Where do lost words go?
the words of care I did not say?
the words of friendship I did not speak?
the words of healing I kept inside?
the words of prayer I didn't utter?
I hear only the echo of silence
so much lost.


So often I kept words inside
in case I had need for them
but it's too late now
all my unspoken words
have drifted down the river
carried by the current
out to the sea
unremembered
unclaimed
away
away
lost
simply
lost.


This was written for Poetry Jam, where the prompt this week is LOST.

These Days

These Days

These days it's good to be alive,
my face a smile from ear to ear.
I trust that all I do will thrive,
these days it's good to be alive.
With confidence I forward strive,
and there is nothing that I fear.
These days it's good to be alive
my face a smile from ear to ear.

These days I know my dream is real
though very new I feel it so,
know what will come of what I feel.
These days I know my dream is real,
there's so much beauty to reveal,
but yet so much I do not know.
These days I know my dream is real,
though very new I feel it so.

This poem is written for dVerse Open Link Tuesday.  I wrote in triolet form.  I would also like to thank Laurie Kolp for the interview she did of me for Pretzels and Bullfights & to thank everyone who commented on the interview there as well.  I am awed & thankful for the community of dVerse.

Fate Perhaps

Basil

Fate Perhaps

Sometimes things happen in a way you aren't prepared for

and it's as if Someone up there knows what you need,

presents solutions at your doorstep tied with a red ribbon

and what had been bleak yesterday becomes hopeful today.

It is on those days that you really know there is a God.

----------

Short (and personal) poem for PU Poetry Pantry today.
Inspiration: good results of bloodwork I was worried about
(and I tend to think doomsday) plus other good things
to celebrate in my life.  I am SO aware of the
importance of living every moment....knowing
full well that some day, some year 'results' will not be good.
No one forever beats the odds.  But today I celebrate LIFE.

I Remember

I Remember

I remember the teddy bear
I bought when you left home,
placed on the chair you'd sat in,
a very poor substitute for you.

I remember the day the bear
could be put away, the day
you returned to claim your chair;
bear boxed, waited out of sight.

Today I found the bear again,
once more positioned it on a chair:
a reminder that happiness is temporal;
but I try not to remember you're gone.

This was written for dVerse Poetics, where Karin is having us write poems about remembering and not remembering!

Life As It Is

Life As It Is

You can never plan the future
from what happened in the past

and as soon as you say never
something happens to flabbergast

life continues to present us
different offerings on our plate

opportunities and challenges
that make one often question fate

and perhaps if truth be told
it is never for anything too late.

Simple verse expressing simple truth!
Written for  G-Man's (Mr. Know it All) 55!!
(To be linked on Thursday night)

Cycle

Cycle

After a while without exception
everything decays, disintegrates
breaks into its elements,
and when no longer recognizable
becomes either rust or dust
which floats out of sight away,

the unseen essence of what once was
a rising cloud of nothingness
unseen, unheard, unfelt, unloved
until it rains down again somewhere
perhaps on the other side of the world
for a new beginning, renewal of life.

This is written for Poetry Jam, where Laurie's prompt is RUST.  
The photo is from Wikimedia Commons

Magician

Magician

If you want me, I will be there; if you breathe life into me
I will wait for you in the shadowland of your dream.
So before you awaken walk fast as you can in my direction;
I've been thinking of this moment longer than you can know.

You will recognize me by my smile, and I will wear blue,
and I will wear rings on my fingers as a sign it is me.
As you gaze into my blueness you may perceive the tears
that fall as I try to touch your hand which reaches for mine.

I cannot bridge the gap though you seem so close
I can almost hear you breathing.  I know I am phantom,
no real essence except for what you want to see, life
you breathed me to be,  mere movie screen projection.

Trapped within your imagination, envisioned by mine,
who can know the line where reality begins or ends
on the evening I cross  the great chasm on a moonbeam
to experience a few special magical moments with you?

Something different and a bit fanciful for dVerse Open Link Tuesday.   The photo is from Wikimedia Commons.