The Mine

The words. I did not use all of them. solitude, cage, moonless, identical, circle, gravity, canary, root, platitude, apparition

For Skylover’s Word List.

The Mine
“Grief is like living two lives – One is like pretending everything is alright, and the other where your heart silently screams in pain.” Anonymous

January 3.
the smell of petrichor rises
from the roots and
moist air circles me
in the moonless night.
solitude cages me.
an owl drifts across the sky
like an apparition.
I look up from the depths of a mine,
a caged canary beating my wings
against death.

Curtain of Night

A quadrille for De who hosts today at Dverse Poets Pub. A quadrille is a poem, any form, sans title, of exactly 44 words using the prompted word. The word today is “crack” or any variant of the word crack.

strong>Curtain of Night
“I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.” – Jack London

the earth passes through the remnants
of Tempel-Tuttle asteroid.
Fire flies past quicker than thought,
in the blackness of the night,
the curtain cracks
letting the stars pour forth.
sit motionless and silent
becoming one with the stars.
gaze through the window of night.

Dark Country Road

This is for dVerse Poet Pubs, Prosery.  I don’t get Flash Fiction.  I hope I did okay.  I thought this had to be written in prose form but apparently, it doesn’t. I will do as I will next time.

Dark Country Road
“A swift rhythm is played out by my hands, a cadence known only to those who have strung tobacco. To many, the meter and rhythm of stringing is the only poetry they’ve ever known.” ― Brenda Sutton Rose

Hot night in July – needing to be out of the city, rolling down a smooth country two lane blacktop, Black countryside, no lights showing in the few houses. All are sleeping the sleep of exhaustion. Folks have to get up early go to work in the surrounding tobacco fields. Rolling past rows of tobacco broken only by the dark houses.  Past another small house, dark. Ahead off to the right a dirt road. I pull off and go down it slowly. Dust invisible but I can smell it, thick whiffs of sharp iron and sweeter lime. In the headlights the road is pale pink but in the daylight, it will be red as blood. A meteor shower explodes in the night sky. I stop in the middle of the road to stare, amazed. If it’s darkness we’re having, let it be extravagant.

 

tobacco farm and barn

Night Comes

For Kim’s prompt over at Real Toads, about the poetic form pastoral. She wants us to write a poem about night coming in the style of Jane Kenyon, ‘Let Evening Come’, “to inspire your pastoral poems this weekend” No more than six tercets. I have tried. I love writing about the night in the summer, any time of year!

Night Comes
“In the trees the night wind stirs, bringing the leaves to life, endowing them with speech; the electric lights illuminate the green branches from the under side, translating them into a new language.” ― E.B. White

in the afternoon the day winds down –
the shadows grow long winds gently slough
and the bees return to their hives.

toward the dark of the day
owls awaken and their sleepy eyes grow bright!
they stretch their wings and shuffle their feet.

rabbits cease their nibbling and head to their nests,
shadows grow longer and cross the road
to meet the cows lowing in the fields, heading to the barns.

the shadow of the moon glows white in the indigo sky
and early Venus glows. the bats come out to hunt
along with the owls and cicadas begin their buzz.

now the stars glow in the black night sky
and a rustle of the bushes as a possum
comes to the join the other night creatures for dinner.

lights snap on in the houses, bright yellow in the night.
the owl swoops down and grabs a baby rabbit
its squeal joining the buzzing of the cicadas in the night.

the night after holding its breath exhales.

 

The Moving Moon

For the prompt at dVerse Poets – movement, moving.

The Moving Moon

“The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.” – Alfred Noyes

People think the moon stands still.
that is up there in the sky like
a light bulb in the ceiling.
On and off,
Light and dark.
but the moon moves,
in it’s course.
The stars move around it
like a moth or flies about the light bulb.
The earth moves rotating on its axis
and in its orbit.
Only I am still as I stand and look up.
Owls, bats, birds,
deer, rabbits, coyotes,
stray dogs, wolves, cats,
snakes, lighting bugs, cicadas.
They all move too.
They dance with the moon as
it moves at night.

Sevenling: A Little Night Music

Sevenling:  Night Music
“Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!” ― Bram Stoker

in the warm summer night
music unites the voices of frogs, crickets,
cicadas and flying bats.

stars sing tales of travelers
and lovers and magicians
and lonely folk like me.

And every night they sing just for me.

Talking on the Back Steps

Day nine of NAPOWRIMO – prompt on Real Toads

Talking on the Back Steps
“The root cause of all life’s problems is looking for a simple fucking answer.” Anthony Bourdain

you sit on the back steps with me.
I look up at the stars and several meteors
flash across the sky.
it is cold and your breath
clouds as you speak.
I cannot hear you
but I feel the words in my heart –
this is just a dream.
you turn into light and join the stars.
I know this is just a dream
but I wish it wasn’t.
I wish it wasn’t.

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