surrender
a flutter
dry leaves pitter-pat
a whisper
the winds come
this season of letting go
to pluck death from us
to help us
let go of the things
we cling to
the wind swells
when we’re ready to move on
in our hearts we know
it is time
there’s no avoiding
the sickle
or the wind
a wise soul will surrender
to know true freedom
~kat
A trio of Shadormas that I’ve been chewing on for weeks. Peace and love to you wherever you happen to be on the journey! ❤️
letting go
like the trees
it is time for me
to let go
of the child
broken, haunted by old ghosts
lingering poison
to wake up
get over myself
dance naked
in the breeze
less green but open-hearted
wild, brilliant joy
to heal
the trees will show me
the way home
their secret
all must die a bit each day
to live…let go…breathe
~kat
I have grown quite sick of myself…the wallowing in past wrongs, unresolved issues, the self-loathing practice of sabotaging myself time and again because…what if? I’m sorry, if you know me well, for dragging you along with me through the muck. Enough already. Maybe it’s the tug of the looming new moon, but I’m over being a victim. This moment, right here, right now I am determined to be a tree. The dead leaves I’ve clung to for so long serve me no purpose but to stifle me from fully embracing the coming spring. New beginnings happen every season. But you have to let go to taste them!
A trio of Shadormas 3/5/3/3/7/5 a la Magnetic Poetry Online (The Poet’s Kit).
I thought this was a good time for a look back. Autumn has taken hold full force here on Bramlett Mountain, with the leaves blushing orange, gold, and crimson and the trees letting them go to ride the wind. The hummingbirds have set flight to the tropics. The days are growing shorter and the mornings are dusted lightly with frost.
As I reflected on the past several months of poems that made it to the page despite my too busy life, I was struck by how moved I was to read the words again. It’s been an unsettling time for the world at large, and in my own corner of it, having let go yet another life-long companion to the rainbow. Four sweet souls this year. Gone. I don’t know that I have fully grieved for each of them as their departures came too soon…always too soon…before I could catch my breath, another and another.
Because of all this, it seems my writing is tinged with melancholy. And yet joy has a way of breaking through even in the darkest of times. Nature reminds us it’s time to let go, to slow down, to rest. I’m listening. How ripe am I for resting, for breathing deeply…for letting go!
A ReVerse Poem - Sunday, October 16, 2022
despair is like a tidal wave
there is not much that can be said
your dreams are clinging on the brink
the wind rushed trees, the sky, dark gray
there’s a special place in hell for you,
just beyond the veil, while we weep
joy breaks through
of resilience, audacity, of life..
as most lives go, pendulums swing
as the world grows darker by the day
the bitter and the sweet
you will wonder where time’s gone,
to embrace moments of joy,
how odd it feels
like a whisper summer fades
fall leaves, gone with the wind
~kat
A ReVerse poem (a practice I started many years ago) is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time.
shade growing thin
how soft the sun’s light
bends through the trees
shade growing thin beneath
bare boughs lonely for
birds of summer, like
fall leaves, gone with the wind
~kat
A poem written with online magnetic poetry tiles using the Nature Kit. Digitally enhanced photo by Kat Myrman in October 2022. Hickory tree in the Bramlette Mountain foothills.
blustery
billows cool and damp
ride the wind
frost the dawn
like a whisper summer fades
autumn blushes rouge
~kat
A Shadorma (3/5/3/3/7/5) is a fun short form. NO metering, no rhyming…just count syllables.
like mercury colliding... 