she stands, deeply rooted amidst a grove of shallow-footed firs, bursting with fruit; her evergreen friends taunting her as she blushes red, surrendering her modesty to the cool winds of autumn
what dreams she’ll dream when winter comes, memories wakened in the deep, dark loam, buried there where only her roots can taste them, memories of seasons past, of seed-burst longing to breach the grave, to life, to feel the sun upon her face and the sweet seductive breeze, the thrill of greening
she stands, deeply rooted amidst a grove of shallow-footed firs, some felled by tempests, or the ax destined to waste away to dust covered in gaudy baubles and tinsel, their ever-greenness an illusion laid bare at the altar of lost souls, and rendered to ash at vanity’s bonfire
yes, she stands, deeply rooted in the bosom of she who keeps this blue orb spinning, sailing through a sea of sweet milk just far enough from the sun not to be consumed and close enough to the moon to see her reflection, light and shadow colliding, in ecstasy, heart and soul all-knowing
-Inspired by a new book I’m reading… “Seeds From the Wild Verge” by Brendan Ellis Williams
i dress myself in tears these days not for me, i weep for others orphaned children, childless mothers victims of cruelty and hate
justice denied for those who wait i feel their pain, those who suffer i dress myself in tears these days not for me, i weep for others
for every soul who’s led astray hope one day we can recover learn to care for one another with compassion, kindness and grace i dress myself in tears these days
Well I completely fell off the NaPoWriMo wagon this year! This poem is based on one of the prompts. I’ve been adding a line or two over the past week when i have the time. Along with my day job, I have been caring for a sick pup who requires a special home cooked diet (our other pups are on the diet as well to avoid food nabbing) and with two very large dogs (175lbs and 125lbs) and a small one (20lbs) I am cooking daily along with all the household chores, while my partner works a second part-time job to pay the medical bills for our Winston. we don’t know how long he will be with us but are doing what we can to make his life a good one. How could anyone say no to this face!
In case i didn’t mention it, this is a Rondel. Here are the rondel poetry form rules: 1. Poem consists of 13 lines in 3 stanzas 2. Rhyme scheme: ABba/abAB/abbaA (uppercase letters are refrains) 3. Usually 8 syllables per line
bare tree limb tips dipped in green, white and lavender sunlight lingering into the evening, peepers peeping at dusk, worms slithering from the damp dark, bees, butterflies, spiders and ants, buzz, flit and creep, a hint of wet clay, fading leaves and first blooms in the mist and this, the first hummingbird sighting at the nectar jars outside my window it’s official...spring is finally here
NaPoWriMo2021 - Day 13 Prompt: This one is short and sweet: write a poem in the form of a news article you wish would come out tomorrow.
dearest muse you’ve been so silent fill my head with sweet nothings to pour on the page ~kat
dearest kat you’ve been too busy there is no room in your head the page, left wanting ~muse
Still playing catch up. Today’s letters give a clue as to why! For NaPoWriMo 2021 Day 11 Prompt: Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a two-part poem, in the form of an exchange of letters. The first stanza (or part) should be in the form of a letter that you write either to yourself or to a famous fictional or historical person. The second part should be the letter you receive in response. These can be as short or long as you like, in the form of prose poems, or with line breaks – and of course, the subject matter of the letters is totally up to you.
i don’t remember when the world turned blue maybe it was when the post-it notes on the ‘frig lost their power to inspire me or perhaps it was when i stopped listening to the nameless portraits on the wall... aren’t they just voices in my own head after all, me trying to preserve my sanity is like using crazy glue to stop a dam from bursting i lost control of everything that late spring into summer into... the seasons are all a blur here behind closed doors, no hope left inside locked, the key tossed into the starry night, into the beautiful purple haze, that faded to grey, the darkness in my soul changing hue, to blue it’s all coming back to me now like loose change in my pocket i realize it’s the little things, things that i can’t forget
NaPoWriMo2021 - Day 10 Prompt: First, find a song with which you are familiar – it could be a favorite song of yours, or one that just evokes memories of your past. Listen to the song and take notes as you do, without overthinking it or worrying about your notes making sense. * Next, rifle through the objects in your junk drawer – or wherever you keep loose odds and ends that don’t have a place otherwise. (Mine contains picture-hanging wire, stamps, rubber bands, and two unfinished wooden spoons I started whittling four years ago after taking a spoon-making class). On a separate page from your song-notes page, write about the objects in the drawer, for as long as you care to. * Now, bring your two pages of notes together and write a poem that weaves together your ideas and observations from both pages.
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