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. 😊
vernal vespers
hush, ‘tis evensong
day’s fiery dénouement
sol’s final glisk
~kat
NaPoWriMo2022 - Day 2 Prompt: write a poem based on a word featured in a tweet from Haggard Hawks, an account devoted to obscure and interesting English words. My word of choice: Glisk.
A GLISK is a brief glimpse of warm sunshine.
first flower
hello there dandy,
first to bloom,
with golden mane,
frosted lightly,
buttons of tiny petals
to parasols of gray,
taking flight one day
on bursts of breath
whispered softly
to a crystalline sky…
it would seem
you are more
than a nuisance,
a weed deeply rooted,
it is you who dares
to bare your face,
to rise, to shine
in the light
of the worm moon,
to announce
the coming spring…
a dandy-lion who
dallies with tempests,
only to be plucked
from the loam,
soft, downy,
feather-light, ripe
for the kiss of wish-makers,
to dance for wide-eyed
innocents who dare to dream
~kat
like mercury colliding... 