Love’s Light

Love’s Light

moonbeams dance round
your face, mingle with the light
of nebulae swirling within
your eyes to shine on this heart,
a reality this writer struggles
to put into words

Reena’s Exploration Challenge #137 offers three phrases for inspiration:
     1. Writer’s Platform
     2. Writer’s Cave
     3. Writer’s Reality

This also is linked to Open Link Night #267

Image source: © Francesco Batistella via Astronomy Picture of the Day

From a Meadow

From a Meadow

edged with bay trees
and madrones, past mighty oaks.
Into the heart of the redwoods,

past stone outcroppings
covered in moss, on a carpet
of age-old needles.

Listen.

Who would speak above a whisper,
when The Land whispers
in a voice heard by poets?

Cazadero, that expansive house
of nature. Each meadow or glade
a room. The air of redwood

and fir a cathedral of contemplation.
Who could pass through here
and not become a poet?

This is my response to Poetics: Make some room, from Laura at dVerse Poets Pub, with the prompt to “conjure a room in the literal, functional, metaphorical, imaginary and/or fantastical sense.”

The poem is derived from one of my earliest poems here, at WordPress, Cazadero Whisper. Margaret Fabrizio has been the sole steward of The Cazadero Nature and Art Conservancy in Sonoma County since she acquired those 40 acres in 1986, retaining the natural setting while introducing art installations throughout the forest and meadows of The Land. My other Cazadero poems can be found here.

 

The Only Way ~ ekphrastic haibun

The Only Way

This life, spent for so long in one place, was not a life spent at a standstill. The directions taken may not have been direct, but they’ve brought me to where I am, today. The shortest route is not always the quickest.

Knowing the streets in the towns around me like the back of my hand meant never getting lost while making deliveries when, and where, they were needed. There is a comfort in knowing a place so well, but other elements in life have a way of interceding.

So it happened, that my last time behind the wheel of a truck was on the direct, cross-country route that brought me here, following my heart to a new home.

falling leaf
taken by the wind
shifting scenes

This ekphrastic haibun is my response to Haibun Monday: Meet Piet,
from Kim at dVerse Poets Pub, with the prompt to write a haibun
inspired by “Broadway Boogie Woogie” by Piet Mondrian.

Image source: Wikimedia Commons – “Broadway Boogie Woogie”, by Piet Mondrian

everything is gray ~ tanka, kyoka, gogyohka

The prompt for MTB: 5-Line Japanese Poetic Forms from Frank at dVerse Poets Pub is to write a tanka, kyoka, or gogyohka. Frank discusses each of the forms. I’ve tried to cover all three, in order.  This series was a hard one to write.

bird with broken wing
beneath broken cedar branch
saved by helping hands
must be returned to the wild
before wild nature returns

broken clouds
in coming storm
offer hope
only an illusion
everything is gray

a soul is troubled
looking for escape
safe haven offered
troubles multiply
everyone suffers

Image source: Wikimedia Commons (edited here)

 

My Hair Eats Everything ~ new poem by Barbara Harris Leonhard published

Imagine carrying your life history with you every day. We all do! Are yours as revealing as those in this poem by Barbara Harris Leonhard?

Extraordinary Sunshine Weaver

I’m delighted Spillwords Press published one of my poems.

My Hair Eats Everything

My Hair Eats Everything

Silver pelage. Static cling

Velcro mouth gulping my life.

My hair, a pantry of my days.

Famished patron of my past.

It shows in my sheen, the shine

Of a clean plate.

Baby hair matted with egg,

Pureed peas, sour milk, spaghetti sauce,

Bits of cereal. Mom’s cleansing spit

Over my crown. Kisses planted

In the soil of my hair. Luster of life

Grows into a hungry coif.

The long stems of flowers

Woven into braids. My first perfume,

Splashes of hot lavender baths,

Swashes of wet polish, and Dippity-Do

Cling to my curls and create a crown

Of a complex banquet.

Grandpa’s musty garage, his yard

Of lake breeze. The smell of sand

Tangles my hair into my mouth.

The steam of Grandma’s fried sausage, rising dough,

Stewed chicken, spilled honey from…

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walked through once – cross-out poem

walked through once

I know how
to build doors

there’s a difference
between entrances
and exits

enough
to risk the sun

the damage of life
wants me vulnerable
cleaved to the spine

pulling back
to the end

the body read

a door of risk

This is my response to dVerse Poetics: About Portals, from Anmol at dVerse Poets Pub. My cross-out poem is derived from one shared by Anmol, What’s Left Behind After a Hawk Has Seized a Smaller Bird Midair, by Justin Miller Reed.

Image source: morguefile.com