Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Autumn is a Treasure Trove of Signs, Symbols, and Memories/ dVerse

AUTUMN IS A TREASURE TROVE OF SIGNS, SYMBOLS, AND MEMORIES

bitter smell of chrysanthemums            corsages given at ballgames     trimmed with tiny golden footballs

pots of colorful chrysanthemums         red, dark red, orange and yellow          my grandmother’s garden

the first indication of the change          of season                      is the cool breeze on an august morning

anticipation                                   soon the leaves begin to change             one day the temperature drops



and all the leaves fall to the ground      at once                                     as if by direction of a maestro

i can see him lift his arms                     and as he brings them down         the leaves let go

hurling themselves gracefully to the ground      the light is different...        sharper in a way

pinon smoke in the air               the sound of drums from the pueblo       a magical time of year



newly ripe apples                             nutmeg, cinnamon, and cloves          pies in the oven

soon the snow will come                 transform the landscape                    we wait breathlessly…

and memories of you                      a fire in the fireplace                          quiet evenings at home

October 17, 2017



Note:  Kim is hosting this Tuesday’s Poetics and she has been thinking about autumn: the clocks will soon be going forward in some countries across the world and the nights will be drawing in earlier.  She has also been thinking about things we associate with this time of year and asked poets to choose "one" autumnal item, take a closer look at it in all its glory under a poetic microscope and write a poem about it.
I couldn't choose just "one" rather was thinking about how autumn is so full of signs, symbols and memories. 




                                                                                               

Monday, October 16, 2017

Water/dVerse

Water

We can only live four days without water, a little longer without food, but water is necessary.  The human body is about 60% water.  The brain and heart are 73% water, perhaps that is why we cry, tears are made of water.  The lungs are about 83% water.  We come from a watery place.
There is nothing more satisfying than clean, cold sparkling water, we die quickly without it.

I grew up on the Texas coast, and there was plenty of water.  Children love to play in water, splash into the surf, like dolphins.  It was not until I moved to the desert, that I became aware of the limited availability of water.  We have a closed system, the water we have is all there is.  It is important to be mindful of our use, and never waste water.  We are told the earth is warming, the shortage of clean water will be known by all.


We come from a watery place
Our bodies are made of water
The shortage of water will be known in all seasons



Tomorrow
The blossom dies
People will be thirsty


Note:  I was not satisfied with the first haiku.  I wanted to add a word that would include all seasons.  I decided "tomorrow," was better.  "Tomorrow" could be be the next day, or many days, or many years, or many generations in the future.  Because of global warming, there may not be water to drink?  Anything we could say, is only a guess.   My haiku is the future talking to the past.

October 16, 2017



Sunday, October 15, 2017

OLD ROUTE #66/ The Sunday Whirl -- Sunday's Whirligig -- Poets United



OLD ROUTE #66

old route #66        runs right through southwest         through new mexico          

while it isn’t a pretense         so much is as it was             step back in time

you might be shocked                to see                            an old motel

exactly like teepees          old filling stations                  old drugstores          

found along the way         route #66                  winds through the desert



you might see an owl        perched                                  in a bare tree

and of course                    you will see                           a murder of crows

gossiping on the fence       you will hear their caws      the sun rises in the east

route #66 runs                    east or west                              take your pick

after the sun sets                 route #66                     lights the desert with neon




just like the old days       so much on route #66     reminds one of bygone days

flee the city                      travel the west                            a new place to roam

find space to breathe   colorful posters proclaimed          come to the west     

put the kids in the jump seat    see the grand canyon       the painted desert

cowboys and indians          come to the west                      drive route #66                    

           

October 14, 2017