Thursday, July 30, 2015

July 30, 2015 Poets United Midweek Motif/Acceptance Writer's Digest Wednesday's Poetry Prompt


it is easy to accept a fine gift from the king              a trinket or treasure

wrapped in gold paper                to accept                i sacrifice nothing

but to accept loss is quiet a different thing             something is missing

i am no longer the same person i was              the world is different

the morning is no longer bright          nor the day                not the night

sorrow overtakes the world       how do i accept            what i do not want

i open my heart                       i arm myself                      as if for battle

this acceptance will not come easy         i will try                      i will fail

just too hard but...           i will try again              the bad dreams will be over

spring will come                      i will awake                       i will live again

as if for the first time          i will notice                        the beauty around me

that has been waiting                that has been there all the time

once again hear the bird song          meant only for me        i will be thrilled

i will look back                i will remember                           still i will miss you

                                                                                ...and on some days i will mourn

July 30, 2015

Sunday, July 26, 2015

The Sunday Whirl/ Bygone Days --The Sunday Whirigig/ Summer Camping Trip--Poets Pantry #162

Bygone Days

i am coatless       the wind whistles                  autumn begins unexpectedly

i search the contents of the envelope                 for your last letter

stars glow in the nighttime sky                           i can feel your touch on my skin

i am thinking of the kitchen stories                   we used to tell

slices of watermelon                               sweet sticky juice runs down my chin

we made up games                         spitting seeds                 at a target

we flew flags                    catching the cool breezes                 you used to say

you wished           we could always stay there on the beach       thinking of bygone days

days when we were young           you and i           we walk together the last part

hand in hand            footsteps one following the other           remembering bygone days

July 25, 2015


Summer Camping Trip

summer is here            in full swing          camping in the woods

the river flows in its' banks                        children laughing

roasting marshmallows by the fire                    telling stories

some are true           others not so much          we work hard

and deserve a rest        when the sun goes down          we curl up

in our bed rolls                     dream dreams of hell and damnation

sometimes it is fun to be scared               and when we wake 

we are so relieved            maybe it is mosquitoes or ants

 a snake in the bedroll          still it is only a summer camping trip 

                                                                 without a kayak

July 25, 2015

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Poets United Midweek Motif/Unity -- Writer's Digest/ Help


i am reminded that the word 'alone'      means all one      one with the universe

one with the rising sun            with the light spreading      over taos valley

one with the sun                  that sets on the horizon          one with the colors

red, yellow, blue & gold               one with the line drawn in the sand

i am all one with the wave           that comes to shore           one with the wind

that makes the windchime sing        one when we are together          still one

when i am alone             i am one with the little bird that catches flies for her young

one with the nighttime sky        & all the stars there in           i think of you

& know you are not far away        you are one within me       & i am with you

July 22, 2015



when i hear you say it        whether screamed or whispered        i am alert

to the danger                       you are in or fear                              whistle, bell or alarm

all the same                         you are in danger                              be not afraid

you are strong                      you are brave                                    i am here for you

July 22, 2015        

July 22, 2015 Poets United, Poems of the Week: On Grief ~ Sumana, Annell and Rosemary

Monday, July 20, 2015

POEMS OF THE WEEK : On Grief ~ from Sumana, Annell, and Rosemary 

This week, my friends, I thought for a little change of pace, since summer is so busy, we might simply enjoy three poems that knocked my socks off in the past few weeks, written by Sumana ( Vision ),  Annell  (Some Things I Think About), and Rosemary, (The Passionate Crone).  Each of these poets is moving through grief and loss, with such grace, faith and courage. Writing their journey, they inspire.

Turn on the bubble sound track, and take a pause that refreshes, each poem a single drop of peace, falling into the stillest of ponds. 


The first poem, Sumana's "Trust", really touched my heart with its message of unshakable faith, even after the recent devastating loss of her beloved daughter. 

I trust my sun who will always rise
I trust my stars who won't forget to light
I trust my Ganga* who will ever purify
and my Himalayas who will pull me to His height

My soul has taken bath in fire yet not burnt
My soul has withstood fear-storm undaunted
Waves of doubt could never blow out Thy name
The trust in Thou glows in my soul like a flame

Be my storm, fire, deluge whatever Thou Will
With faith, trust, love let my heart be filled

*Ganga is the Ganges

Sherry: Faith doesn't come any stronger than that. Such an uplifting and inspiring poem! Thank you, Sumana. Your courage humbles me.

Annell's "A Piece of Yarn", has such a gentle sorrowing beauty to it. Annell is moving through the one year anniversary of her beautiful son Jim's passing last June. Yet this poem offers a hopefulness at its closing, as the poet weaves the words, dries her tears and follows the bread crumb path home.

A Piece of Yarn

i opened the door      startled a pair of fly catchers      they flew in unison

a perfect circle... then another           before they flew skyward

i ride my weary steed across rough ground             we travel south

the sun already high in the sky... sunrise /sunset how quickly go the days...

these words follow me                     reminding me of their truth

is this the little boy at play      i don't remember growing older       when did you

it seems only yesterday you were small                    then... you went away

another summer/fall/winter/spring                    happiness & tears

one season following another          i did not think i could bear

 yet loneliness & sorrow stand          they are my companions

 i am learning to accept them...

sunrise/sunset                                                 swiftly fly the years

blue pavilions rise on the horizon...                     how to keep all that is past

is it like a piece of yarn          wound on a spool                  to be unwound later

to read the words written there                          weave into the fabric that is my life

dry the tears of yesterday...                      follow the scattered bread crumbs home

Sherry: I am so moved by "loneliness and sorrow stand / they are my companions." Sigh.  This is the way of life, as we move through our losses, incorporate them within, and keep on walking.  Rosemary's wonderful poem, "At The Turning Point",  picks up the journey at the two-year mark, and  says something about the adjustment to her new reality, two years after her beloved husband Andrew's passing.  Her poem really impressed me with how she is learning to keep moving forward, with love, a little farther along the highway of grief.

At the turning point
I greeted old friends
not seen for many months,
and said goodbye to a new friend
going for months away.

At the turning point
I danced and sang
with others in a colourful circle,
then moved to a chair at the edge
when they gathered speed.

At the turning point
I delivered a talk, hiding nerves.
I had to speak loud, and project
over an exuberant infant’s joyous whoops.
‘Such command!’ they praised. ‘Such a voice!’

I drove back home with new ease
around the scary bends
of the darkening road —
handling the car with confidence
at each turning point.

My angel sat beside me
only a little while.
‘You can do this now,’ he said.
I agreed, and acknowledged
the turning-point.

In the Solstice fire I burned
old fears, old guilts, old regrets —
leaving a space for new light
to begin and grow in me, here
at the turning point.

Sherry: I can see him, your angel: "You can do this, now." Somehow we grow our way through these huge changes in our lives.  Bravo, my friend. You are brave. 

Between the soothing bubbles and these three beautiful offerings, I hope your visit here has been a peaceful and inspiring  few moments in your busy summer day. Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!

Sunday, July 19, 2015

July 19, 2015 The Sunday Whirligig/ Running on Empty -- The Whirl/Returning Home -- Poetry Pantry#261

Running on Empty

black and blue                        and purple all over                 walking in the park

slip my fists into the gloves      hoisting the load                  the curtain rises

the canvases were hung      no movement in the suburbs      locked up tight

the flowers bloom                     sunshine sparkles                  still I wait for you

do you wake on the hour          early morning                        the headlights glow

drive the freeways                daylight breaks                 the light streams through the cracks

my letter to you                               white                         you open it without hesitation

find it was written long ago      at last delivered                      running on empty

July 18, 2015

Returning Home

when i saw the words                 i smiled                                    tilted my head

and staggered to my desk        it has been a bruising week              sleep evaded me

awake much of the night        i wait for my spirit to catch up          as often happens

after a journey             the 'me' of 'me' seems to go astray                 only by instinct

finds its' way home             slips through the cracks             after looking everywhere

can sometimes be found        in the hamper                                with the dirty clothes

or some other unexpected place          having lost its' way            returning home

July 19, 2015

Monday, July 6, 2015

The Sunday Whirl Wordle #206/ Chatting with Crows

Chatting with Crows

the crows came          sat on the fence               i opened my heart to them

it has been splintered for many days                   i could feel the pain escaping

they said they knew      felt it in their bones              i offered them grain

they took it from my hand                                         one crow is for death

two crows a wedding                                    three means a baby is on the way

it is good                          they don't really like to be alone

a crack of thunder ended our chat                               i crawled home

collapsed in my bed pulled                                      the quilts over my head

in my dreams i worked with clay...                               i dreamed of you
July 4, 2015

Note: I am thinking we do not have to go far for an adventure. The crows do come and sit on the fence, if we could have a chat with them, oh how much we could learn. I have watched animals, and they teach us much.

Sunday, July 5, 2015

Sunday's Whirligig/ A Different World-- Poets United/ Poets Pantry #259

A Different World

the world has reached its' tipping point                        we are told

                                      it is the beginning of the 6th extinction

the people of the valley talk among themselves         shake their heads

in silence       look to the sky        count the days            look for signs

this day seems like the day before                                 we are told

                                      we will run out of water

everything will be difficult            there will be nowhere for the people to take refuge

the beginning of the end has begun      questions hang in the air    

the world will be different                      we are told this has happened before …

July 5, 2015


  Mother   mother, a simple word just six letters   “m” is for mine, meadow, meow all the wonders of the world wild meadow orchids including...