See Her: Earth Day, Poetry Month

Oh, the whales! In the sea, breaching waves, free to be
just a mom, or a calf, not baleen, or whale blubber—
no more brigs, no more sails, not these ships, that they flee,
not the past, but the now, the whale fishers. They’ll shoot her
and scrub her, her meat sold, and her fat—but a plea

to see her there in the sea. I’m a mother. So is she.

For dVerse where Björn has asked us to write anapestic tetrameter. Well. . .this is an attempt. I had a second stanza, and I just scrapped it. I think the poem works better without it. This was definitely hard.
This poem is also for Earth Day, which is today.

Several years ago, we visited our daughter and her wife who lived in Boston at the time, and we went on a whale tour, where we saw whale mothers and babies. Whales were a significant trade in New England and elsewhere in the nineteenth-century

And So It Goes, NaPoWriMo

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And so, the moon hums

before the storm comes,

clanging and chasing away the blue,

dimming it with charcoal hues,

electrifying sky to ground—

 

always the way, I’ve found–

bright day gives way to night,

calm voice raised before a fight,

delight to sorrow sometimes flows

erasing joy, and yet, the shadows

flicker, so come song and light.

 

The challenge for Day 19 of NaPoWriMo is to write an abecedarian poem. I’ve done two stanzas—a to e and then a to f. The full pink moon was humming fiercely this morning, but we’re supposed to get thunderstorms later today. It’s very cloudy right now, but the birds are singing!

 

 

 

Things the River Carries: NaPoWriMo

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I think of things the river has carried—

 

Lenape canoes and wooden ships with sails,

spices, barrels, and bails,

the stuff of merchant cargoes.

 

Immigrants and slaves

carried across ocean waves

seeking a safe harbor.

 

Geese and gulls

swimming around the hulls

and among the debris

 

left from centuries–

 

tree branches and stumps

animals that jump

to swim—away

 

never staying,

straying

varying

 

things the river has, is, will be

carrying—

 

dreams of a better life,

perhaps a husband or a wife,

or freedom, almost

 

touching, joining the ghosts

watching from the coast

history and things, strings

 

of visions with wings—

decisions and stings

flowing with the tide

 

hopes, feathers, trees,

flowing from river to sea,

passing like time,

and then away from me

 

For the NaPoWriMo prompt, Day Nine “list of things,” and for guest host, Linda, at dVerse  who asks us to write about prompt water.

 

 

 

 

 

For My Younger Daughter on Her Birthday

Twenty-eight years—

a lifetime—

or just a blink—

 

time passes that way

without regard for what

we think

 

of all the moments,

the tears, the joy,

together, we link

 

them, forming

the totality

I would not rethink

 

through whys

or ifs, to undo

 

that which is

so wondrous–you.

 

A quick birthday poem–posting on dVerse, where Grace is hosting Open Link Night.