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.

Haibun: Winter Ocean

For De’s prompt at Quadrille Monday. The prompted word is kiss.  A quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words and uses a prompted word.

Haibun: Winter Ocean

Walking along the shore, snow begins. The sky is grey overhead and golden sand becomes white. Broken shells roll in the surf. I hold my face up to the sky to be kissed.
lazy snowflakes kiss
the shore – ocean kisses back –
winter romance blooms

 

 

 

The Blood Moon

For dVerse Poets Pub, Lillian has the prompt there. We are to write a poem using the word shed. This is also for Real Toads Tuesday Platform.

The Blood Moon
“He is burning, burning in the twilight.
He is burning, turning to face us.” Wang Chung Fire in the Twilight

last night the blood moon shed its skin
peeling off its pale yellow skin
to proudly display the blood red underneath.
Under the trees in the forest
the wolves ran –
the strong alpha male breaking the snow,
at the back of the pack
the beta male bringing up the rear,
the females and cubs strung out behind
the rest of the pack circled around them,
shadows against the snow –
the blood moon above casting light for their path.
the leader stops and howls.
a bitter windless night.
The moon gazes without pity
and sheds its skin


Blood Moon 2019

 

Haiku 1/19/19

For Magaly’s prompt at Real Toads ,  poem in the manner of Mary Oliver. We lost a great poet and a better person

Haiku 1/19/19

icy scabbards hang
from the forsythia bush –
wintry arctic blooms

The Moon on the ocean

For Bjorn’s prompt on dVerse Poets Pub. Today he explores the sonnet. I have written a modern free form sonnet for the prompt as rhymes and I don’t play well together.Also posting on Poets United Poetry Pantry.

The Moon on the Ocean
The moon lies upon the ocean –
a sleeping dragon curled about itself,
one eye half open observing the world below.
Snow falls like meteors – a shower of cold fire
doused in the black water heaving itself
Upon the shore. This moon is red as blood –
The dragon’s eye carnelian in its glow.
Bits of phosphorus twinkle on the sand.
A crab washes ashore and walks a few paces
before being swept back into the blackness again.
Farther from the shore early breaking waves
show white in the blackness and ladders
from the moonshine track back to the moon
undulating gently upon the water. The
moon on the ocean is a mysterious thing.

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.

t

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.

Haiku 12262018

day after Christmas
lies in tattered shreds
covered with heavy frost

Previous Older Entries

%d bloggers like this: