Summer

Summer

Nowadays, especially for those of us
who have lived a number of years,
hot summers  pass way too quickly
while we pay absolutely no attention
until it's too late to recollect bygone days
not that one would choose to remember
the indiscretions of one's youthful past.

Summer morning sun always rises early
before vivacious birds begin to warble
to welcome the birth of each new day.
Grass is richest and most verdant green
the day before mid-summer drought
but it does not know its predictable fate
nor do any of us know our real fortune.

Summer skies are most azure blue
nature's late afternoon visual gift
jewel before each evening colorful sunset
and no one pays any attention at all
to the solitary wrinkled old man in the dark
who dreams wearily about his summers past
behind drawn dark curtain which allows no sun.


For Bjorn's prompt for Meeting the Bar & Modify It at dVerse, I took a poem that I had shared earlier  Summer Haiku & made it adjective and adverb intensive!  It was an interesting challenge.  If any of you take the time to look at both versions, I would be interested in knowing whether you prefer this 'wordy' version or the original haiku version!  I know which I prefer!  Smiles.

Not the Last Poem

Not the Last Poem

This is not the last poem I will write
no final statement to read at my grave
nothing of great significance to anyone
imperfect, unrevised, and rough.

Words float to this page unpolished,
it matters not, as there will be another poem
tomorrow and tomorrow after that, but one day
I will write the perfect poem to capture my life.

Only then will I leave this earth satisfied
that I have created the last poem I will write.
No revisions to poem or life possible or needed,
life and work complete.  Consummatum est. Amen.

Submitted to Poets United:  Midweek Motif
 for prompt "The Joy of Poetry."
Also for PoetryPantry!

Oh, Say

Oh, Say

Oh, say can you see by dawn's early light?

The flag flies high despite the long night.

Freedom lives on, its message still true,

the broad stripes wave, the stars remain bright.

On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,

oh, say does the star spangled banner still leap?

Our hearts keep the faith as it waves tried and true,

though the climb isn't easy, the cliffs often steep.

Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam,

in full glory reflected now shines in the stream:

the proud flag waves on though oft tattered and torn

its message will live, it will not cease to dream.

The prompt at dVerse was 'national anthem poetry.'

The italicized words in my poem above came from

"The Star Spangled Banner," the U.S. national 

anthem.

Not Love

Not Love

Love is not the answer

does not feed people

clothe the homeless

teach children to read

cure people's bodies 

save others' souls
      or yours.

Love is often a platitude

an easy to claim attitude

a feel-good word

politically correct to say

trips off the tongue

makes others smile
     with you.

How many times

does I love you  deceive

to get what one wants
no substance behind

a malicious trick

before the knife pierces
     then twists?

Love is overrated

overrated without action

action that leads to change

change becomes possible

possible can be a  beginning

beginning dependent on love
     your love.

I wrote this poem for Poets United Poetry Pantry after I read
X's poem Q & A.  For some reason, it inspired me.

Tranquil

Franz Marc

Tranquil

It is silent now.  They have all finally gone.  How I tire of forming my mouth into a counterfeit smile for the hours they stay.  They think I welcome their relentless chatter, that they do me a favor by their visits.  Little do they know how little I care about their foolish tedious tales, how I look forward to their departure, how I seethe inside.  My cats are with me now, which is all I need.  How they purr and comfort and calm me. And my music.  And my knife and rope.  And bottle.

Shadows dance in dreams
music stills angst of the soul
heart seeks tranquility.

I gave a haibun a try for dVerse Open Link.

Silence

Silence

Where do all the poems go
when people are silent?
Where does life go
when people are silent?


Silence is heavy, but is
perhaps the new norm as life
evolves, changes. Other
things take precedence


or there is no time or
less interest as other
things fill the space and
sometimes it is just


so easy to forget. Part
of society's cycle. But
as a creature of habit
I cannot help feeling sad


and wonder if someday
I will cast my words
to the wind and they
will disappear on


a gentle warm breeze
and I will stand there
waving good-bye
to nothing in particular.

For Poets United Midweek Motif:  Silence

Back to School

Back to School

School supplies are basic needs

all children must have them

churches now often provide

what parents do not.

All children must have them

pencils and notebooks are cheap

but some parents cannot buy.

Churches now often provide

"God's work our hands"

whatever one does for the least of these....

What parents do not

give to their children others supply

as one way to live their faith.

This Trimeric is written  for the dVerse Poetics prompt "Back to School."   My church collects school supplies and fills them into little backpacks this time of year for children whose families cannot afford school supplies.  I took the photo of some of the school supplies that have been collected.

Evolution

Evolution

When it seems our life dissolves
     echo: evolves

before our very eyes
     echo: demise

while we look the other way
     echo: astray

we hope to regain what we lose
    echo: choose

dreams spring forth like water
     echo:  tauter

and give life a second chance
     echo: dance

make it better than back when
     echo: then

and we savor life once more anew
     echo: new

find that future is to have and hold
     echo: bold

enjoy each day as it evolves
     echo: resolves.

This poem is an "echo verse" written for my prompt at dVerse Meeting the Bar.  I am also linking it to Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Beauty in the Night

Beauty in the Night

There is beauty  in the night
when all is black but the moon
the shadows dance their tangos
lovers embrace beneath the trees

when all is black except for the moon
listen to the seagull serenade
as the howl of hungry coyote
makes the sleeping rabbits quake

the shadows dance their tangos
in the darkened living room
man and woman married thirty years
weave one another around

lovers embrace beneath the trees
unseen except for deer and squirrels
one does not have to see to know
there is beauty in the night.

A slightly modified Trimeric written for Sumana's prompt
"beauty" at Poets United Midweek Motif.

I Look Back

I Look Back

I look back now and realize
I saw death on your face
but we never talked about it
even though we both knew

I saw death on your face
we spent  hours together
and talked about tomorrow
as if you would see it

but we never talked about it
never spoke its name aloud
as if acknowledging its presence
would beckon it to the room

even though we both knew
the curtains would soon be drawn
some words remained unvoiced
and now I speak my regrets.


This Modified Trimeric is written for Poets United Poetry Pantry.

(A Trimeric (tri-(meh)-rik) is a four stanza poem in which the first stanza has four lines and the last three stanzas have three lines each, with the first line of each repeating the respective line of the first stanza. The sequence of lines, then, is abcd, bef, cgh, dij {this is not a rhyme scheme})

Where Do Memories Go?

Where Do Memories Go?

Where do memories go
when one's past has drifted
where does one's happiness lie
if all has slipped away

when one's past has drifted
present is only an agitated island
that floats on the turbulent gray sea

where does one's happiness lie
if incoherent words of strangers
buzz in unfamiliar rooms

if all has slipped away
what is a life's purpose
if not simply to escape?

This Trimeric is written for dVerse Open Link.

A Trimeric (tri-(meh)-rik) is a four stanza poem in which the first stanza has four lines and the last three stanzas have three lines each, with the first line of each repeating the respective line of the first stanza. The sequence of lines, then, is abcd, bef, cgh, dij (this is not a rhyme scheme) 

Say the Names

Say the Names

Say the names, say the names
say the Native American names
Oshkosh, Sheboygan, Wausau
Neenah, Menasha, Mukwonago
Oconomowoc, Manitowoc
Menomonee, Ozaukee, Waupun
Waupaca, Ashwaubenon, Milwaukee
proud names, names that roll
names that feel good to say.

     Say the names with pride.

Say the names, say the names
say the French names
Eau Claire, Fond du Lac,
La Crosse, Prairie du Chien
de Pere, Trempelau, Juneau
Lac du Flambeau, St. Croix
Prairie du Sac, Superior
proud names, names that roll
names that feel good to say.

     Say the names with love.


This is written for Sherry Blue Sky's
prompt at Poets United Midweek Motif:
"Say the names."
(Many of the names of cities, towns, rivers, counties in Wisconsin have either Native American or French roots.  Native Americans were the first inhabitants; and the French were the first Europeans. Of course, we have names that have other obvious roots:  New Berlin,  New London, New Glarus, etc. I love the place names of my state. I love to say them!)

Dog Days

Dog Days

Dog days of summer I understand

long days of nothing but heat

not to mention severe weather

how many days can we endure

no dog walks or human walks

just too darned hot.

thankful for public swimming pool

for air-conditioned home

for good books

for poetry sites and fellow poets 

long days of nothing but heat

dog days of summer I understand

just too darned hot.

This poem is written for Kansensakura's prompt for dVerse Poetics:  Dog Days of Summer.

Rope

Rope

If you see a rope grab it
it is meant for you

rescue is imminent
but whose?

is it you who will rescue
or is it to rescue you?

hold one end and pull
pull hard if there is resistance

hope it is a lifeline
not a noose.

This is written for Poets United Poetry Pantry.