Listen in Sorrow #birds #poetry #loss

pencil bird

happy you tend to the garden

waking me daily with song

bringing cheer never sorrow

I find myself singing along

*

more work is there in the morrow

gather and fashion a nest

complaints never are filed

rarely do you stop for a rest

*

little one out in the wet storm

no jacket to fend off the rain

grateful for your reminder

sun always follows the pain

*

I take my pen sadly to paper

to write about someone I love

gone toward braodened horizons

taken gently to heaven above

*

spring raindrops

birds joyful refrain

tears fall freely

rain-on-bird4

Today at Poet’s United the prompt is Birds.

This haibun is lovingly written for my father-in-law Robert who left us today.

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Deep is Winter #poet #winter #sorrow #Akhmatova

golden sunrise 2

Memory of the Sun

Memory of sun seeps from the heart.
Grass grows yellower.
Faintly if at all the early snowflakes
Hover, hover.

Water becoming ice is slowing in
The narrow channels.
Nothing at all will happen here again,
Will ever happen.

Against the sky the willow spreads a fan
The silk’s torn off.
Maybe it’s better I did not become
Your wife.

Memory of sun seeps from the heart.
What is it? — Dark?
Perhaps! Winter will have occupied us
In the night.

Anna what would you say of your people’s strife in Ukraine today? You who understands such chilling silences and loud absences of loved ones. You speak of a winter that you know too well.
I am just learning about this Ukranian/ Russian poet.  Anna understood the pain of having a pen that spoke for her and those she loved died because of the ink that never got a chance to dry.
Her life is winter
icicles cling to the forlorn
 spring – an idea
*
Mdw
(out of love for Anna)
winter scene
 On the 8th the world celebrates Woman’s Day. What better way to do so than to share the work of a strong poet who suffered much at the hand of communism. I share her words with Poet’s United as well.

Cold Shadow #atozchallenge #poetry #photography

c in the snow

imprint in the snow

crystalline shadow

cold leaves its mark

*

cold leaves its mark

covering fall’s scars

melted remains

*

melted remains

white blanket memory

imprint in the snow

 

the haiku cascade allows the poet to continue a thought while maintaining the quality of the haiku form.

****

“If a poet is anybody, he is somebody to whom things made matter very little – somebody who is obsessed by Making.
~e.e. cummings

 

As a writer/ poet what are you obsessed with making????

atoz-oldbook-01-wb

 

 

Each Written Word #poetry #photography

Each word was a thread
an interwoven part
tears like dew drops
 from a broken heart
*
Each word was a plea
silent call to you
catching the phrase
before the wind it blew
*
Each word echoed love
tumbled in the waves
polished over time
waiting for the day
*
Each word a duet
a  poem in the dust
 inscribing now my fate
your embrace, I trust
*
Each word an inspiration
of stories that I live
 inked is the promise
etched upon my skin
*
While penning, what does a poet seek ~ Fame, understanding, love, expression?
This week’s Prompt from Verse First “Writer’s are lovers”
 “Writers are great lovers… and great lovers realize that they are what they love.” ~ Ginsberg
Dedicated to a  poet I have long revered
Photography is the © work of L. Moon 2013
poets united

Reliant on Memories #tribute #poetry #WW2

Reliant on memories

we never made

I was young

when laid in the grave

*

Reliant on memories

a girls first kiss

all the loves

that we would miss

*

Reliant on memories

the way I laughed

you’ll always have

don’t hold it back

*

Reliant on memories

a piece of me

will always stay

alive and free

*

Reliant on memories

will have to do

I will live on

because you made it through

***

My poem is in tribute to a poet and heroine  Hanna Szenes whose birthday is today.

Hanna a gifted poet was a brave young woman who believed in a cause. On March 1944 she parachuted into Yugoslavia on a mission to help rescue Hungarian Jews about to be deported to Auschwitz. She was caught on the Hungarian border and tortured (by the Germans) with the hope of gaining valuable information. Because she would not give information, they imprisoned her mother as well. While captive, she looked for ways (like a mirror) to send encouragement to fellow prisoners. Hanna was executed in November 1944 by a firing squad and remembered as a heroine of Israel. She was 23 at her death.

These are the words of one of her last poems:

Blessed is the match consumed in kindling flame

Blessed is the flame that burns in the secret fastness of the heart.

Blessed is the heart with strength to stop its beating for honor’s sake.

Blessed is the match consumed in kindling flame.

.

More about Hannah here.

Life less #pain #love #poetry

“yes I feel it too”

I said to no one

in caged, abysmal loneliness

every foot -step echoed a cadenced

“no turning back”

“all is gone”

“where did love go?”

“was it ever?”

when he looked in my eyes

did he embrace another?

daily I flogged my heart

that I might feel

for numbness had become

my closest ally

(friends had all but fled)

“what if death became

my final offering?”

it would have been your moment of celebratory height

(you play the martyr well)

now through this pain  encased

I feel again

I raise my cracked crystal glass

(ironically a wedding present)

“YES -I will live!!!”

you will need to find victory

in another’s destruction

for my life is worth more than that alabaster vase

you purchased for my remains

“Beauty’s End” photograph copyright L. Moon 2012

Ode To a Writer #oneshotwednesday

Ode to the Writer

You’ve seen me in print
Reading parts of my type
Thinking my words
reflect what I am like
*
points misread
lies between the lines
mere complications
Space and time
***
you’ve read into words
sometimes that will be
When you misunderstand
What you think you see
***
please realize
I’m not who you believe
You never really saw
The unknown person – me

*

*

I wrote this weeks ago for a site that was doing a feature of me on a VLOG. It was fun as the writer in the poem was just a person. Today I spoke with a co-author/ dear friend. We  had big dreams and lived some. She helped start and I wrote for a small international radio station ( still operating). We wrote several books (  paid for  printing); they have been distributed  all over the world. You may know who I am today – but who I will become and where I was before there ever was Moondustwriter – well hmmm we shall see.

We are into week 54 of One Shot Wednesday having just celebrated a year of being.

Please join us and take some time to read fantastic poetry.

Thanks to Leah Jones http://www.flickr.com/photos/accidentallyjewish/2337869818/