The Atlantic in January

For Sanaa’s prompt on Real Toads – Get listed.  I have chosen these words for my poem: January. snow, wind, clouds, poems.  the optional words of my choice are mysterious, Atlantic, and lover.


The Atlantic in January
“There’s something wonderful about drinking in the afternoon. A not-too-cold pint, absolutely alone at the bar — even in this fake-ass Irish pub.” Anthony Bourdain

The winds blew the clouds about in the
January sky – like poems written on tissue paper.
Bits of sea foam snagged on the sand
and then were swept back into the ocean.
Snow fell slow and steady.
The grey Atlantic heaved to the shore and back again –
breathing like a sleeping lover –
chest up and chest down,
chest up and chest down.
The Atlantic in January is a mysterious thing.
Fifty shades of grey –
In the sky,
The sand,
The water,
The partial whelk shell holding firm in the sand
as the water washed over it.
The Atlantic in January is a mysterious thing.
It is the kiss of lovers,
The words written by a poet in her mind,
A glass of beer drunk in an empty bar
on a Tuesday afternoon.
I walk along its edge and wonder
at its quiet beauty –
the things hidden in its depths.
The Atlantic in January is a mysterious thing.

The Secret Life of Cats

for Hedge’s 55

The Secret Life of Cats
I once had a tabby and white cat,
Miss Boot –
I’d come home from work and find my
dressing table looking pilfered.
A puzzle.
One day I came home early.
in the middle of the table
sat Miss Boot, my pearls around her neck
and blush on her cheeks.
Well, that mystery was solved.

Tuesday Poetics – American Southwest

Today, our newest team member at the dVerse Pub, is prompting our poetics. Out of her love of photography and the Southwest, she is prompting us to write of it. She has given us several of her incredible photos to use. I wrote this poem a couple of years ago and have re-written several times. It is based on several of my forays into the Mojave desert and visits to Mesa Verde – for solitude and to view meteor showers. Come out west with us today!

Desert Lights – 1990
Silent climb to the
Top of a seif dune. Sliding down.
Moaning. Booming.
wind ripples – Dry ocean waves.
Bristle cone pine stands.
Reminder of life –
Skeletal. Lone.
Distant mountain ridges
reach white snow to touch
blue sky white clouds.

Cold night moaning.
Dunes whisper secrets
To the listening moon.
Mystic explosion
Of light – Leonids bombard
the darkness – heavens fireworks –
front row seat at best show
off earth.
Orion sets in western sky.
Lighting bolt emblazons darkness.
Storm races down the canyon.
I lie in blackness.
My horse softly whickers.
Flutter of bat wings.
I slip deeper into
My sleeping bag.
More stars than Vegas light the sky.
Alone. Alone. Alone.

photo copyright by Mish. Used by permission

photo copyright by Mish. Used by permission


Open Link Night 165: Pine Barrens

This is for dVerse Open Link – poems of all forms and subjects can be linked today.  I am submitting a portion from a long cyle in progress:  Pine Barrens.  It is in the style of the imagists.  Eventually, there may be haiku or tanka as part of this cycle.  This is an area that has intrigued me since I first visited thirty years ago.  Come visit us for other poems or submit you own at:
An alien land
Sugar sand
Scrub pines
Tall pines
Cedars –
Water – serene streams
Calm rivers
Blue hole – bright blue
Fathomless depths
Unfreezing in coldest winter
People disappear in its depths

A haunted land
Ghosts of long dead buildings
Long gone families
Crumbling brick skeletons
the pine barrens slowly
obliterate traces of civilization
unwelcome in this place
people disappear in its depths

Only the trees remain
Only the animals remain
Only the water remains
only the sky remains
only the silence remains

We are merely visitors there
Welcome as long as we leave quickly
and without a trace behind
People disappear in its depths

Pinelands Preservation Alliance photo

Pinelands Preservation Alliance photo



%d bloggers like this: