🍁a tree🍁
oh
🍃there is
something special
about a tree that🌿
is grounding, but only if
we are willing to consider
that we are connected
🌱to each other, only
if we are willing
to let go of🍂
reason
and
give
❤️
an
oak
or
an
elm
a big hug ~kat
Na/GloPoWriMo 2022 Day 28 Prompt: Write a Concrete Poem. In brief, a concrete poem is one in which the lines are shaped in a way that mimics the topic of the poem.
lady of the blue m on
one summer’s eve she came to call
a moonlit vision peering in
rousing me from slumber’s cusp
amidst the wooded hollow’s din
with eyes of green, face white as snow
raven curls from her hooded cloak, cascading,
then whispered she, my name
it would rude of me i thought
to look away, to hide my head
instead i rubbed my eyes in case
it was a dream…”i’m not” she said
“what then, are you, or rather who?”
i might as well engage this sprite
it’s odd i don’t feel any fright
just curious why she happened by
before i could ask her she replied,
“i am the mounded loam beneath
your feet, my voice is sometimes
light, a breeze, or birdsong sweet
and other times it roars,
a tempest swift to rage,
my eyes from green turn steel gray
i smell of honeysuckles, roses too,
lilacs, lavender, and bells of blue
my thoughts are many as the stars
and every wish you’ve ever wished
i keep close, guarded in my heart.”
then just like that, the moon behind
clouds drifted, she was gone
leaving me to wonder if what i saw
was real or just my mind slipping
‘tween lucidity and dreaming, yet
i felt her cradle me, calmed by her breath,
or was it mine, finally i slept
~kat
Na/GloPoWriMo 2022 -Day 25 Pronpt: based on the Aisling, a poetic form that developed in Ireland. An aisling recounts a dream or vision featuring a woman who represents the land or country on/in which the poet lives, and who speaks to the poet about it. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that recounts a dream or vision, and in which a woman appears who represents or reflects the area in which you live.
Started my day waking up to this beautiful sky, tree tops, a hint of green, popping with buds, spring on the cusp. I fully intended to write a fancy poem about it…
…and then events of the day took over…and we had to say goodbye to another beloved pet, our Winston…Winnie Pooh …best boy ever. 8 years is not long enough…even in dog years. 😢 Rest in peace buddy. Go find Maxwell and Casey-cat who crossed the rainbow bridge earlier this year. They’ll show you the ropes. 🥰
“stop and smell the roses”
stop trying to please
and take some time for you to
smell spring’s sweetness in
the moments after the rain
roses misted, dressed in red
~kat
NaPoWriMo2022 -Day 6 Prompt: write a variation of an acrostic poem. But rather than spelling out a word with the first letters of each line, I’d like you to write a poem that reproduces a phrase with the first words of each line.
To challenge myself even more, this poem was created using Original Magnetic Poetry online in the format of a Tanka 😊
the wild sacred
who can look at the sun at dawn or at dusk
and not feel it’s fire in your core
or sink your naked feet in cool loam
it’s tingling vibration, as you become
one with the she that is Her;
oh, the song of cicada’s stirs sensuous
longing; their slow rhythmic moan
to crescendoing climax to breathless
release…’sigh’…how indeed
the cacophony of spring birdsong at dawn,
their frenetic trill tweets
are passion’s love song
how could wild things be bedeviled as wrong
from the rush, ebb and flowing of waterways deep
to shallow streams bubbling, the brute power
of steam, the way wind-tossed leaves sound
like tempest-swelled seas
while the stars and the moon watch us drift
off to dream, to sleep, souls to keep
holy, holy, wild is the rawness of green
not sterile stone chapels with steel phallic spires
but darkness, musk hollows, mountains and
fire, how sacred is She, how wet with desire
the earth and the sky and a soft cooling breeze
can transport one to heaven on earth…
come with me
we’ll tip whistling kettle to cup,
watch the crushed tea leaves bleed
you’ll tell me your tales, and
i’ll tell you mine too,
while we sip from our cups
in this wild sacred place,
just us two
-kat
Just musings..no prompt or challenge save the magnificence surrounding me. Some poetry is best just because. 😊
like mercury colliding... 