dVerse Poets Pub: Meeting the Bar – Repetition Form

Thursday is MTB (meeting the bar) day at dVerse.  Victoria is our prompter today and she is requesting we do a poem using repetition.  I decided to go back in my history and detail one night with my Lakota lover as we explored and camped among the Badlands and the tall grass of his reservation in North Dakota.  Come visit us at the Pub 3:00 PM EST to read these poems of repetition.


***Sunkmanitu Tanka

by the river my lover and I slept
we were awakened by the songs of wolves
he whispered – sunkmanitu tanka – wolf

we lay and listened
the moon was full
and the wolves sang

I will tell you, my lover said softly
how the wolves saved rivers and the earth.
how the rivers were dying
how the willow and tall grasses were dying
how the elk and the buffalo were dying
how the eagles and birds were dying
how the beaver, the foxes, the rabbits were dying
how the fishes, snakes, and turtles were dying
how the earth was dying

Grandfather looked down upon this world he created and wept
but he fashioned the wolf
and made it free to roam
to hunt to run free to mate
to give birth to play in the snow
to run the plains and forest

The wolves followed the river
and hunted the elk which were too many
and they were killing the earth
but the wolves hunted the elk
the foxes and the eagles ate the carrion
left behind by the wolves and they lived
the elk became fewer and ran to escape the wolves
and no longer ate the earth bare
willows flourished and broke up the water
the water gave birth to beavers snakes turtles
the beavers built dams and the rivers became lakes
the bear grew strong and hunted
the mountain lions grew strong and hunted
the eagles grew strong and hunted
the wolves ran free over the earth

And the earth began to grow again
and the earth became green again
and humans were formed from the earth
and grew strong and hunted.

And I heard in his voice the drumdrumdrumming
and the songs of the Lakota people
as the earth began to grow again.
I heard the drumming and the songs
around the campfires.

and we listened to the wolves singing
and we slept.

***Lakota for wolf

public domain image

public domain image

dVerse Poets Pub – Quadrille Monday

Today is Quadrille Monday at dVerse Poets Pub. De (Whimsygizmo) is our word prompter. Please write a quadrille (exactly 44 words, title not included) using the word “whisper” or variants – whispered, whispering, whispers –
Come Join us at 3:00 PM EST to read these wonderful short poems. http://dversepoets.com/2017/01/16/quadrille-24/

Wolf Moon
the wolf moon begins to rise
shattered into pieces
by black branches,
like a sky mounted mirror.
branches begin to whisper
tossed by high flying breezes
sounding like windchimes made from seashells,
small animal bones, broken glass –
I lift my face and begin to howl

***The first full moon in January was named by the first American people as the wolf moon – cold, snow caused much hunger among the people and animals.  Wolfs would sit and bay outside the villages on full moon nights.  Thus the name given to the moon in January – Wolf Moon.

dVerse Poets: Open Link Night

Come join us at dVerse to read wonderful poems by wonderful poets today at 3:00 pm EST. http://dversepoets.com/2017/01/12/openlinknight-187/

watching the trees sway

standing on my back porch
I am confronted by the potting shed
at the back of the lawn.
Nobody’s Cat,
a crippled tuxedo boy
had crawled under it Thursday evening
unknown to me,to die.
his crippled arm had been swelling
and the weather had been getting more
cruel in its cold.
I took him a plate of food,
(I had been feeding him for a year)
and he gobbled it up.
Next morning and evening,
I took him breakfast and dinner,
through a quickly deepening snow.
Sunday, he did not respond to my urget
kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty –
none of the four times I had been.
nor on Monday nor on Tuesday.
the weather had dropped to -5F for several nights running.
now I stand on my back porch
being confronted with the potting shade.
my eyes travel past it to the woods beyond
down a slight slope.
I watch the trees swaying in the wind –
it is warm today, Pneumonia Weather
as the old timers call it.
I watch the trees swaying –
delicate whites, dark umber,
bland beige, light brown.
I watch them swaying
back and forth,
back and forth.
I know in the next big wind,
some of them will go down –
some to live sideways
and some to die.

dVerse Poets Pub: Quadrille Monday

Monday at dVerse Poets Pub, the post for Quadrille Monday will go live.  It is the first posting for the new year here at the Pub and we are pleased to have Bjorn hosting it.  He has chosen the word “curl” to include in your 44 word poem (not including the title).  So drop by at dVerse to read these wonderful short poems and to submit your own!  I am submitting two poems containing the word “curl”.

1.
the days have knit themselves
into a pattern of sameness –
an afghan in shades of grey.
like the winter sky and trees.
the elderly woman settles down to sleep.
the younger woman brushes the curls off
her forehead and whispers,
Sleep mama, sleep.

2.
I found out today where Nobody’s Cat
goes after I feed him in the morning.
I looked out the back way and
saw him limping laboriously
over the back lawn
crawling under the potting shed.
Brown leaves curl back onto themselves
not showing his passing.

winter solstice haiku

well, I write to escape…

l.
a hawk glides over
skeletal trees – winter blue
sky shows no mercy

ll.
silent neighborhood –
distant crows break the silence –
cold and still today

lll.
the grass is brittle and
frost covers everything –
at noon no melting

Hiatus from Blogging

Hello all my dear friends.

I will be taking a brief hiatus from blogging.  My mother, who has Alzheimers and is in frail health, is in the process of being put into hospice care.  She also lives with me in my home so caretaking has been difficult.  It is a painful part of my life, watching my once vital, funny, and intelligent mother dying.   I will be back as soon as I can.  In the meantime, I wish you all happy holidays, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and many many hugs and blessings.  I imagine I will be back sooner than I anticipate because I love writing so very much.  In the meantime, your prayers and good wishes are earnestly needed.

Take care of yourselves.
Love,
Toni

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dVerse Poetics: Time

Today, Tuesday Poetics, Lillian wishes us to write about time – I had the time of my life, it’s about time to go! As long as we write about time and use the word time, we should be fine.  Sorry for the sad poem.  My mother is with me now and is slowly dying of Alzheimer’s and complications.  Tomorrow we discuss hospice.  It is a grey day in December.  Rain slowly drips.

Trees and Time
death knows no seasons –
death cares not about Christmas lights
or spring flowers or summer tomatoes.
death watches the first snow falling
and looks at the trees,
bare of leaves and rising like bones
in shades of grey and sepia.
death only knows when it is time…
and moves on.

copyright kanzensakura

copyright kanzensakura

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