Fresh #poetry #photography

beauty

Fresh

 fallen the night before

crisp

 footprints on distant shore

crystalline

capturing  fallen light

colorful

red rose smiling bright

holding

hands clasped this day

speechless

love needed nothing to say

vowed

spoken to the skies

renewed

snowflakes in our eyes

free

petals fall in the breeze

laughter

whispers spoken to the trees

fallen

strong stood aged oak

memory

 song where new life awoke

reaching

striving for the sun

hoping

new path on which to run

In 75 words or less: A New Year.  Again.  Are you a fan of “new”? Or are you tired of the whole idea of “new,” preferring the tried and true? 

Newness a prompt from Poet’s United.

poets united

Awash in Art #poetry #photography #art

“Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.” Pablo Picasso

august 2013 207

Behold art

through artist’s eyes

hold your breath

there’s no disguise

*

imagination

will you see

at  water’s edge

you’ll be set free

*

A fanciful place

to lose oneself

catch a wave

you’ll need no help

*

dust away mundane

look deep inside

a hidden world

rides on the tide

*

lost you art?

you sorry soul

without it’s depth

you won’t be whole

*

grasp its tail

come with me

ride a notion

in the artist’s sea

≈  ≈

Whether a connoisseur of art, a dabbler, a master, you might agree that to “lose art” would result in a mundane and less colorful existence.

Today’s assignment at Verse First:

Consider loss, losing, art, and their meanings for you. Then write a 6- stanza poem that contains at least two rhyme schemes. Lost? Read the poem again, identify the rhymes and give it a try.

Photograph: “Spent Wave 2 – Oil by Clare circa 1982”

Inhale #acupuncture #health #poetry

fall lake side

Inhale – Water

floating above  lily pad’s calm

Inhale –   Music

woodsy bamboo flute tones’ massage

Inhale – Sunshine

fingers warmed by golden rays

reawakened to a clear day

*

The prompt for Verse First today is:  “The work is not about the place”

“Writer’s often assume they must be in a particular place, using specific tools, with just the write atmosphere to write. I challenge that. Today, do not allow yourself to follow you own ritual and routine. Go to a place where you’ve never before written. Then write.” poets united
Thanks to Poet’s United for the challenge. This poem was written on the acupuncture table as I laid beneath needles.

Tomorrow #pain #amwriting #poetry

The sun will come up …

Tomorrow

and I bet

I’ll face this all

tomorrow

it’s not fun

*

Just thinking about

tomorrow

cancer eats the joy

and leaves a sorrow

today its won

*

When Im stuck in a day

that’s sad and lonely

I must fall on my knees

and hope

and pray

*

Tomorrow

Tomorrow

 a pain free

tomorrow

is always a hope

away

*****

Annie’s Version:

Tomorrow

The sun’ll come out
Tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar
That tomorrow
There’ll be sun!

Just thinkin’ about
Tomorrow
Clears away the cobwebs,
And the sorrow
‘Til there’s none!

When I’m stuck a day
That’s gray,
And lonely,
I just stick out my chin
And Grin,
And Say,
Oh!

The sun’ll come out
Tomorrow
So ya gotta hang on
‘Til tomorrow
Come what may
Tomorrow! Tomorrow!
I love ya Tomorrow!
You’re always
A day
A way!

From Annie

The prompt at Never Ending Story is Tomorrow and at Poet’s United – Verse First is Ordinary.

Some of us face extreme pain as part of our daily, ordinary lives.  I have managed 22 pain filled years without narcotics (except when I’ve been hospitalized).

You can sing my version of “Tomorrow” I have.  I added Annie’s version because she faced a wall of Tomorrows and managed a smile with each one. To each of you who are enduring I hope for a sun filled Tomorrow.

Painting Dawn #poetry #nablopomo #photography

dawn yokhil

Dawn peers beyond my fingertips

gently I caress your form

on your contours I ply paint

creating a masterpiece

*

Breaking over the horizon

you take my breath away

sudden rays of merging color

I hold on to purple

*

Awakened by the light

you turn to grasp me

sleepy green- eyed smile 

finger -painting the landscape of a new day

Desert-of-Sleeping-Men – Carl Warer

The prompt over at Verse First at Poet’s United is: The Body Becomes the Landscape. Looking at the photographic mastery of Carl Warner it is easy to believe.  I’m taking the contours of an early dawn landscape that could easily be a human form as my inspiration for this poem.

Memories in a box #haiku #photography

grave

All that remained

she lived in another time

memories in a box

*

memories in a box

one night set free

no holding back ghosts

reminders not needed

the world could see

The prompt at Verse First (hosted by Kim Nelson) is Ghosts, Spirits, Scares. I hope you feel the presence of a ghost  in my verse today.

We were instructed to write in 31 words or 31 lines in honor of October 31st. I chose using the haiku and tanka to write 31 lines.

Tanka:  is written by one poet and not by two (as is the echo form of the Tan Renga) the syllables count is: 5-7-5-7-7

For the love of… Food #poetry #photography

wine with the meal

My senses tell me first

something fragrant is stirring

I try not to imagine what the neighbor is cooking

my salivary glands haven’t a care they’re not looking

spicy, strong smells fill the air

*

carried away on a magic carpet

distant lands of curries and cayenne peppers

autumn colors of paprika and tumeric

dark green courgette, deep purple eggplant, and regal red onion’s sweet array

my imagination is teased with the colorful display

*

Camels loaded with untold wares

a caravan from the east

great cooks of the world plan their feast

impatiently I await gustatorial delights

*

Putting my watering  mouth into check

my rolled carpet beneath one arm

a Merlot to wet our lips

I gather my glass, green salad and my wits

always a welcome guest

magic carpet

The prompt at Verse First today is to write about food. I hope you can smell the spices as they take an Eastern journey.