I shall take heart
from this the shortest day
I will let each day that passes
with you away from my reach
be as this day
sunrise to sunset
so few hours
time that passes in the blink of an eye
I wrote this piece before I read the prompt from d’Verse this weekend, but I thought that just maybe, it fit in with the theme of the prompt, which is presents and presence. It’s a piece that is a present to someone, and it speaks of missing their presence.
raucous and brazen woman of sharp wit
and sharper tongue
goddess of the unconventional
mistress of mayhem
even distance cannot dull
(covered as you are with glitter!)
though it does make me wish
you had never left
who else will share my scorn?
who but you
would revel in the unusual with me?
I wish the distance
were not so great between us
that we could share coffee while you fondle
(what were you thinking?)
one day I will knock
upon your T.A.R.D.I.S. door
bearing a gift of gnomes
and hear you scream “hooker!”
and I will smile
because from you
(and you alone)
it is true compliment
Written for d’Verse’s Poetics this weekend, which asked us to write about someone or something we miss. Rather than go to overly sentimental route, I chose to write about a dear friend who moved away this year. This piece totally fits her personality, and our friendship.
Geese @ the Riverwalk in Rock Hill. Image is my own.
the woods, most would say,
but I know different
for I have heard the song of the forest
in stillness I sit
perched on the edge of a steaming river
the soft words of geese reach my ears
over the slow, constant babble
of the water’s passage
dew collects on fading leaves
drops into the brush below
joining with the sounds of birds and squirrels
searching the forest floor
for nuts and berries to stock their winter stores
stirs wildlife to sing and call
their voices creating
a breathtaking cacophony
the music of Nature given life
Written in response to this week’s challenge at Velvet Verbosity, which gives us ‘listening’ as our prompt for the week. I found that this poem also easily fit New World Creative Union’s Wednesday Wakeup Call.
Photo is my own, taken at the Riverwalk in Rock Hill, November 2012
these mornings as I trek through the forest
as Nature’s creatures make preparations
for the coming cold.
I always take a moment to watch
to smile and wonder
what their busy work means.
old wives’ tales
herald a harsh winter when birds
spend months gathering nuts and berries
preparing a root-cellar of supplies
so I too begin to feather my nest
airing thick blankets
and sweaters and heavy socks
knitting warm hats and mittens and scarves
that I wear to keep warm
as I make the trek out to the forest
and watch the creatures of Nature prepare
for a long, cold winter.
Written to answer the challenge at d’Verse, which asks us to look at the ways in which we prepare for things to come; in this case, preparing for a cold, snowy Winter.
Image is my own, taken at the Riverwalk in Rock Hill, November 4 2012
How sad to be the path less traveled
To wait and watch as wanderers pause
Standing at the divergence
Only to continue on as others have.
How terrible to be a voiceless tree
Standing rooted in a wood
Or swaying, tossed by a faceless breeze
unable to pass on my tale.
How lonely to seek out only the night
To walk in darkness only
Forsaking the warmth of morning’s glory
And living a half-shadowed life.
I will not take the path often traveled
But seek the one that is mossy and rough;
I will seek the voice of the trees
though I must learn to be silent to hear it;
I will not walk only in the darkness
But will make time to bask in the sun.
This week at d’Verse’s Meeting the Bar, we are tasked to use literary allusion in our poem. Robert Frost has long been a favorite of mine, in part because I grew up on land that was once owned by him. I love how his poetry is tied to Nature, and this piece is an homage to the lessons he gives us in some of his works, namely “The Road Less Traveled”, “The Sound of Trees”, and “Acquainted With the Night”.
the scent of sweet hay assaults my senses
causing a tickle in my nose
making me sneeze and giggle
whickering from the stall all the way at the end
catches my ears
I click my tongue and hear an answering call
running my hands over the stallion’s withers
I caress his shoulder
along his back and haunches
soothing the massive beast
hooves dance anxiously on the dusty floor
we prepare together
speaking in soothing tones
checking saddle and stirrup
bridle and bit
gentle fingers tend to intricate braiding
one last inspection before our time
we enter the arena
set to motion long practiced
trot stable, in unison
flying changes in perfect canter
each half pass poetry in movement
scored in collection
in gait and movement
each moment of rhythm
each point of contact
measured against a perfect standard
years of practice
long hours in dusty rings
culminate on this day
we wait again