dVerse Poets Pub – OLN #190

Today is Open Link Night over at the dVerse Poets Pub. Submit one poem of your choice. Come visit and read! http://dversepoets.com/2017/02/23/openlinknight-190/

The Potting Shed
The old potting shed is slowly returning to the earth
settling down on its crumbling stone foundations,
roof slates cracked or missing,
paint fading and flaking.
The fact that underneath
Nobody’s Cat burrowed in during the last snow
And died.
Daffodils’ green spears are thick and lush
around the perimeter of the old building.
the flowers stand like mourners
around a grave
as the sun slowly sets
in an explosion of
saffron ginger turmeric curry –

spiced winter day
ends in a flurry of last
waves of goodbye

copyright kanzensakura

copyright kanzensakura

dVerse Poets Pub – Haibun Monday #2

Another entry for Haibun Monday: The best things in life are free.

The snow melted from the ground. Underneath were thousands of tiny blue flowers blooming. I am sure they must be kin to the forget-me-not but these are so very tiny and perfect. There were even a few violas mixed in with them. The grass had that curious flat appearance from being crushed under the snow which made these little flowers stand up even more so. The Japanese have a word – sumire- voice of jewels. Imagine! If jewels could sing, it would be with the soft sure voice of these tiny flowers. Blue as the sky above them they shine in the grass as if they were in a jewel box of new grass and old leaves.  Free for the taking, free for their sharing of beauty, free little flowers singing with joy at this gorgeous day.

the small shining things
of spring sing with the voices
of hidden jewels

copyright Kanzensakura

copyright Kanzensakura

 

dVerse Poets Pub: Haibun Monday – The Best Things in Life are Free

Monday I am doing the prompt for Haibun Monday over at dVerse Poets Pub after a fairly long absence. While a bit stressful, it is still good to be back in the Pub writing prompts and reading and commenting on poems. My prompt for everyone is: the best things in life are free – as in without cost – not liberated from something – one of the other meanings of “free”…Come nd join us for the prompt on 02/20/2017.  Haibun Monday – The Best Things in Life are Free

Daffodils are Free!
Daffodils. I love them. I wait for them to come up every year in the very early spring. This year with the winter being so warm, you can spot clusters of green spears springing up from the dead winter grass or they are topped with the golden flowers. The smell of daffodils – I have yet to smell anything that smells like them. A heady mix of honey, jasmine, and butter – the perfume of them has not and probably never will be duplicated. Watching them blowing in the wind or dripping with rain or sticking out of snow, one can only sigh and know we are looking at one of our Creator’s most beautiful miracles. Ever since I was a child, I have loved them and I love them still at the grand old age of 65. They still make me smile, no matter how hard, sad, grey, or difficult the day has been.

Once when I was a child I pulled green blades of a daffodil still wet with rain. I wanted to see how  it tasted. I placed the green blade between my lips – slowly pulling using my tongue to feel the sharp edge and the soft green and the cold wetness of it. Years later after kendo, my lover and I stood in the rain and kissed. He had daffodil lips and I drank in their cool wetness and my tongue probed the sharp edges of his teeth and the slightly bitter taste of his lips.

in the spring rain
daffodils bloom with hope – true
love is in the air

public domain photo

public domain photo

 

dVerse Poets Pub: Meet the Bar with Expressionism

Bjorn is hosting the Pub today and prompting us to write poems based upon Expressionism.  Whew.  I hope this one comes close.  Come join us at:  Meet the Bar with Expressionism

Cuts like a Knife
The sky is so blue overhead
And the clouds so white.
Yet the wind cuts through you like…
a hot knife through warm butter
scissors through paper
a katana through silk…

And you. You.
You go through me like a
hot knife through cream cheese or…
like a katana through that thin branch
On my cherry tree –
you slash and slice and
and the blossoms fall
to the ground.
the birds peck now among them
finding the worms that burrow
underneath.

a lone crow circles overhead
in that blue winter sky.
he cuts through the sky
like a katana slices through fog.

still from Last Samurai

still from Last Samurai

dVerse Poets Pub: Quadrille Monday

I am linking this to dVerse Poets Pub, Quadrille Monday.  This is the second Quadrille.  The first one I will not be linking up as planned because….I was not happy with it.  Come join us at the virtual pub, dVerse Poets Pub for quick poems of exactly 44 words using the prompted word. http://dversepoets.com/2017/02/13/quadrille-25/  The concept of chinmoku on the top level means, silence or reticence.  It is more than that – it is a way of communication, of feeling the space or silence between the notes, like the scale played on a piano. One has to be totally immersed in the Japanese culture to truly understand chinmoku.

Chinmoku 沈黙
The silence between the notes
stretches out like long silk scarves
twisting around posts
fluttering in the winds
of now and then
of rain and sun.
like ghosts of long gone laughter
the silence between the words
wrap around your heart and pulls…tight.

dVerse Poets Pub – Quadrille Monday

Today is Quadrille Monday at the virtual pub – dVerse Poets Pub. Come join us for a day of quadrilles – a poem of exactly 44 words, not counting the title, and using the word of the prompter. Today, the pubtender is Kim Russell and her word of choice is “ghost” (or ghosted, ghosting, etc).

Windblown Birds
the winter day was sunny and warm
as a day in late spring –
And oh, so windy!
Birds were tossed into the sky –
they fluttered like windblown ghosts –
and rippled like long chiffon scarves,
snapping back and forth like pennants

dVerse Poets Pub: OLN #189

Today, I am linking up for Open Link Night over at dVerse Poets Pub. http://dversepoets.com/2017/02/09/openlinknight-189/ Come join us for some fine poetry writin’…

Laphroaig Night
It is February 8th.
February. 8th.
It is 75 degrees farenheit.
The last time the temperature was this high was 1925.
I’m standing on my back porch
Breathing in the night,
Sipping a good single malt
and listening to the peepers singing
down by the creek.
They are crawling tgrough the wet leaves
And doing their mating thang.
The high pitched bells of their tiny throats
each proclaiming:
In the midst of death we are in life.
In spite of myself I smile.
Politics, religion, wars, arguments,
Fights, battles, hunger, grief, sickness, anger –
All are silenced by their voices.
I finish my scotch.
I smile.
In the midst of death we are in life.

Previous Older Entries

%d bloggers like this: