Saturday, May 27, 2017


Sunday's Whirligig


snow obscures the image     the picture isn’t clear               for all the huffing and puffing

in the cornfield maze                       the way forward                                            obscured

go in circles                            incapable                                           of finding the way
even the road less traveled       no longer visible                     at the edge of the field we stand          


we find traces                        of those who have gone before                   follow the path

innocents all                          pursuing life’s path                          knap sack full

a marriage of convenience       the pilgrim and the journey                     long or short

the songbird                          in his yellow dress                             feathers a deep green

 confined to his cage              sings the same sad song                              all day long

May 27, 2017


The Sunday Whirl/ Wordle #301


i breathe in the morning                       in all of its’ quietude             the barking dogs/quiet

perhaps they are still sleeping               no cars can be heard                below in the valley

it is memorial day                     is everyone quietly remembering          his own special memory

no church bells peel…yet                     still early                          at last the season has changed

first of summer                        no longer cold                             still, it snowed twice last week    

time to get out and about          hike the trails                           skipping stones

blue water reflecting                 blue new mexico sky                grass is growing in my garden

since i have stopped pretending            i am a farmer               i have decided i like grass

and weeds                                they grow strong                       and take what they need

without assistance                     my kitty likes them                   he thinks it is his own jungle

he crouches in the grass            crack                                        he snaps out

catnip grows in the garden        in the overlapping weeds          what fun he has

he is hunting                            and in his mind’s eye                he is in africa

the big game hunter      he seems to make up his story as he goes along        crack

he pops up                               runs to the wall                        scales it in one leap

runs up the post                       and back down again               for all the world

he looks like he is having fun   risking life and limb                 for the game

water seeps from the faucet/the plants i planted last year       are crimped and squeezed

the grass and weeds take charge            others have to ask permission/all is a little unruly

May 28, 2017             








Samyuktha Jayaprakash said...

How i wish we can sing the song of the free bird
flying instead of walking!

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I like the marriage of the pilgrim and the journey - and that beautiful bird, sadly caged.

Rob Jackson said...

I liked them both and the vivid imagery within.

Anonymous said...

Two enjoyable reads.
That repetitive songbird is a particularly sad image.

Sherry Marr said...

And I love the description of your summer morning in the desert, and the playful cat adventuring! I can see him!

humbird said...

I think the 'convenience ' is what holds us in the walking/staying in the circle. However, going over the edge - not only desire, but a demand of higher vibrations...Glad to see you, Annell. Blessings!

colleen said...

I want to let the bird out of its cage. I love the title "I HAVE STOPPED PRETENDING I AM A FARMER."

Magical Mystical Teacher said...

Is it really the same sad song? I wonder. Maybe this time we sing it, we forget a word, or mispronounce a word. Another time, we take a breath at the wrong moment, and every subsequent note changes. Or, as you say in your poem, we are "incapable of finding the way forward." But still we sing. And I am going to be the devil's advocate here and say that just because the song sounds sad to us doesn't mean that it sounds sad to someone else. Out of our sorrow, in some strange and wonderful way, tiny, delicate joys may blossom.

Sumana Roy said...

wonderfully contrasting poems of sad song of caged bird and the happy summer scenes...

brudberg said...

The songbird in it's cage and I think of Maya Angelou... and you have put in references to Frost as well.... love when a few words give me all the other poetry back

Sanaa Rizvi said...

Love the contrast between the two poems! Beautifully poignant.

Anonymous said...

I really like the contrast between the caged bird within the maze, and the playful cat set loose in the wilderness of the deserted garden. Both hold different treasures, as well as dangers. It really is a matter of choice...


Thotpurge said...

all is a little unruly...all is a little real...think i prefer that unmanicured wildness.,,

Wendy Bourke said...

Beautifully written pieces. Although each is imbued with its own mood, to me, they are similar in that I sensed the process of trying to free oneself from the myriad of memories, expectations and on-and-on-and-on that dog our days ... and - simply - observe the 'fun' when life is left to unfold 'a little unruly'.

Jae Rose said...

Poor bird caged up and yet your second poem is so joyous - I could picture Issa bold and beautiful as ever xo

purba chakraborty said...

Enjoyed reading the poems. Beautiful and profound. I especially liked a marriage of convenience, the pilgrim and the journey and the bird in his cage singing the same sad song.