Moods

August Sky over the Delaware River at Red Bank Battlefield

 

Glowering

clouds reflect my mood,

shadows cast

on river

rolling to the sea, endless

cycles streaming throughout time

 

creating

stormy skies and light

untamed and

magical

the appearance of a deer

like a gift to me,

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like nature

answering a call,

now a need,

now the light.

I walk on, heart more joyful,

the river flows on.

 

A shadorma sequence for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, using synonyms for character and wild. This was inspired by a walk I took yesterday.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Light Behind the Clouds

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The storm rolling in

 

Charcoal clouds

sweep across the sky–

windswept shrouds

covering

summer’s blue, a magic trick

of sun, moon, and stars

 

glimmering

with secrets of time.

Watch streaking

meteor

carrying ancient glitter

scattered on the earth.

 

I’m supposed to be working on my book, but somehow my poetry brain took over, and a poem appeared instead of a chapter. Ooops! This is a shadorma sequence for  Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday–synonyms of light and dark.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Transitory Structures

Building in a puddle, Philadelphia

A lightning bolt zig zags across the grey and ominous sky. I quickly slide my hand down from the metal pole to clutch the plastic handle of my umbrella. Thunder booms. I walked faster but stop to look down at the sidewalk. There I see an upside-down, ephemeral world; beautiful and transitory, a skyscraper in a puddle.

Ordinary sights

made extraordinary—

in a summer storm

 

A Haibun for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, Poet’s Choice of words.

 

 

Moon Rising

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Pure

water,

the essence

of life, tumbling

down, cascading to

stillness, a pellucid

pool mirrors the sky above.

Clouds ripple in the lake and sky,

and bird shadows soar, black against white–

their calls echo, echo, echo, echo

until the sound fades into the gloaming

and fireflies dance about the shore.

Then come the night sounds and creatures

that fly, swim, flitter, twitter

with anticipation.

She is here, rising

from the water,

luminous,

glowing

moon.

 

A double etheree for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday challenge.

 

 

This Place, Home

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Train

slows down

time has stopped

rather, reversed–

a more pleasant time–

or perhaps it’s a dream.

She wants to stay here. This place

where flowers bloom, and it is spring

always. She gets off at the stop, now to

live another life, or one meant to be.

 

Colleen is doing an ekphrastic challenge this week, based on the photo above. This is my quick response before the deadline! My poem, an etheree, is based on the feeling that I got from the photo. The scene looks so idyllic, and the “Next Stop Willoughby” episode of The Twilight Zone flashed into my mind.

 

 

 

 

Going Forth–Haibun

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Today tanks roll through the nation’s capital, and jets fly over a divided country, but I remember another Fourth of July where people came together to witness a union. Outside fireworks boomed and flared, but inside, love lit up the room. No excess displays are needed to whitewash the facts. Here, we share a couple’s happiness. With the stomp of a goblet, we’re reminded of the simple truth that love. . . is love is love is love. . .and that it endures.

 

lovers stand and watch

colors streak across the sky—

shattered glass echoes

through time, a kaleidoscope,

love forms and reforms again

 

Today is my younger daughter and son’s wedding anniversary. A few years ago, we celebrated three weddings within about two years. First our older daughter married her wife, then younger daughter married her husband, and then my sister married her wife. (You can find posts about them, if you’re interested, by searching Love and Marriage.)

This is a Haibun with a tanka instead of the traditional haiku for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday. and Frank Tassone’s Haikai Challenge, “Independence.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Butterfly Effect: A Variation, NaPoWriMo

Pond beside Multiplex, Voorhees, NJ--Merril D. Smith 2019

“’Cat’s paw’ is the weather term of the day. It is a light breeze affecting a small area, such as would cause a patch of ripples on the surface of a still water surface.”

–US National Weather Service, Nashville, TN, Feb. 5, 2014

Cat’s paw breeze tickles

the water ripples,

sighs in a reflective purr.

 

The goose quivers in delight

on the water ripples

honks to her mate, in flight

 

he answers from above

the water ripples,

then settles by his love.

 

Crow hears their squawks

from the water ripples,

caws from his perch on the rocks.

 

The sound carries for miles

beyond the water ripples

to where the mockingbird smiles,

 

and from up in a tree

far beyond the water ripples

he sings of hearts soaring free

 

in cat paw tickles

water ripples trickling

sighs, caws, purrs, and cries

 

And I open the window–

on a catercorner breeze

to listen to his reprise.

 

The NaPoWriMo, Day 10 prompt is to write “a poem that starts from a regional phrase, particularly one to describe a weather phenomenon.” I don’t know what region “cat’s paw breeze” comes from, but I love it. The poem evolved because yesterday afternoon, I listened to a mockingbird put on a long concert that included the calls of other birds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Dream, A Kiss: The Stranger’s Tale

I met a man who told me tales of wand’ring

long on lonesome trails of silvered hazel wood,

where by a stream he dreamed, and his pond’ring

 

the ships he sailed, and battles fought as he could.

Then how his dream seemed more real than all of this—

of his darling’s kiss, how missed, and what he should

 

have done. Now old, I think of his dreamed kiss,

his plans altered and rued. I instead stayed,

cast wishes on waters true, finding bliss

 

with you, I thank that man, his lesson taught,

grateful my hopes granted in love long sought.

 

Another sonnet for dVerse, this time in Terza Rima, with thoughts, too, of enjambment, per Jilly’s post. I’m still reading the sonnets, and I’m so impressed with the philosophical questioning. I seem only to be able to write these narrative type sonnets. This started out as a poem based on a Yeats challenge, Jane Dougherty did a while ago. If you want to read that version, it’s here. So indirectly, this is inspired by Yeats. Feel free to comment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Spy

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“Luis Fernández García, “Susanna and the Elders,” [CC BY-SA 4.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)%5D, from Wikimedia Commons

 

She shed her old life the day the soldiers came,

sloughed like a snakeskin. Perhaps

traces remain to be found someday

in a dusty archive, a notation in a book,

but she has grown, now

metamorphosed,

each day she wears a new persona—

school girl, maid, shy lover—

they think she’s eager to accept

their upright soldiers, ramparts breached

they thrust to claim her,

but she’s eager only for information–

spilled words that she can pass along, not their seeds

she does not want planted.

So, she listens, and they disregard her—

seeing only body, not mind.

She shed her old life when the soldiers came—

she lives in shadows,

hoping for a new life, a new skin

that need not be shredded and shed.

 

 

This is for Lillian’s “shed” prompt on dVerse,