Inner Child

 

Photo:  Google Images

Tossing and turning
in the lingering mugginess
of a summer’s night,
sleep is elusive.
Positioning myself in the
moonbeam pattern of light
playing across the bed,
I somehow now seem cooler there.

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Poetical Contender

A thought inspired gives birth to form
Images follow and the pen begins to quiver
Writing flows forth with rhyming transform
Sonnet, villanelle or a couplet sliver
 
A need for expression with lyrical feel
Profound emotions in succinct detail
Straight from the heart it emerges real
From strong and savage to delicate and frail

Where Was I?

 

(Photo credit: photosylvia / silabox…occupée)

Where was I for all of those years
When all I could focus on were all of my fears?
I couldn’t make contact, I couldn’t embrace,
I couldn’t look at anyone, square in the face.
I stuttered and stammered with shyness so tense,
I couldn’t show up with any sense of intent.
I couldn’t express my thinking–
Did I even have thoughts?
I was stuck in a place behind a self-made prison wall.

Measured Steps

Photo:  Google Images

nature’s melodic tune
slows and deepens her voice
as days grow shorter,
a quietness vibrates
and covers all with colors
that reflect the quivering of her bow
 
vibrant with decline,
a signal to prepare for going within,
humming in a silent meditation…voices mute

Filters

 

Big Room, 1948,  by Andrew Wyeth

Afternoon light filters the once upon a dreams
Abandoned farmhouse letting go of days gone by
Filled, once, with lives who moved downstream
 
Memories held fast in the bricks, mortar and beams
There, to recall, with a melancholy sigh
Afternoon light filters the once upon a dreams

Expansion: A Tritina

Photo:  Google Images

Beneath the peat-rich soil a kernel sprouts
Warmed by the sun it shoots to expand
Pushing through earth’s loam it seeks success

When Young

 

Photo by Bomobob:  Google Images

When young, though ripe for summer’s love of you
Love threw its net enclosing round me fast
Long, golden days spent wading in the blue
While thoughts made blind to what the day had cast
From afar I tracked your every move
With eyes glazed warm laid on your fairest face
Just one, small glance from you…what would this prove
Alone am I in this lover’s embrace
But by the near of summer’s glowing wane
My heart grew calm and thoughts changed into fall
Autumn’s shift did cool love’s fervent refrain
With passing days became a faint recall
So if absorbed in love’s consumed engross
A season’s span can bring it to a close

My attempt at a sonnet.  Didn’t quite get it perfect.  They’re hard!

Boston’s Buskers

A couple of months ago, or so, the members of dVerse Poet’s Pub were invited to submit poems to Nain Rouge a start-up “e-zine” publication showcasing urban life.  This invitation came during the celebration of our first year anniversary.  Any portrayal of city life was the assignment.

When I first read of the invitation for submitting poems, my mind immediately went to my time of living in Boston, MA.  I spent a few years there with my husband and two daughters when we all were quite young.  It was a great city to explore and very easy to navigate with the subway and bus systems.

My favorite part of living there was the entertainment that showed up literally at my feet as I walked throughout the city.  The street performers were so much fun…and what talent!  You could hear classical music being played on the subway platform while waiting for a train.  Or, hear a story being told by Brother Blue, the outlandishly dressed and lovable character created by Hugh Hill, Ph.D., a Harvard graduate who also served in World War II. ..and much, much more.

My idea came in an instant to write about the amazing talent of the street performers (buskers) who added so much enjoyment to my stay in that part of the country.

It was a total lark that I decided to enter my poem…what could it hurt…and I took maybe a couple of weeks of working on it before I sent it in.  So imagine my total, stunned disbelief when I was contacted by editor, Mark Durfee, where he announced that I had been chosen “The Editor’s Choice” for a special placement in the magazine.  Me?  It still hasn’t sunk in quite yet but I am so honored and very pleased to have achieved such status.

I really enjoyed the first issue of the magazine…a wonderful and very entertaining variety of writings.  I waited until the publication came out to post my poem.  Enjoy!

How I Sleep With My Cat

 

Sita in her catnip patch

I’m sharing a bit of fun today.  I tackled writing about the very challenging art of sleeping (mostly not) with my cat, Sita.

shoo her
off my
side of the bed
 
turn off
light and
then address
the dark…
 
“excuse me
please, you’re
standing on
the quilt”, while
giving it a tug
 
settle in,
pulling up
the covers..

Becoming

 

Photo:  Google Images

one love was dead
then I met you…
resurgence of feelings
brought me to life
 
my nerves were shot
from stress and strain
but my soul was soothed
when you hugged me tight

Blissful Sadness

A Silhouette of Sadness (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

New mothering
brought me joy.
Blissful willingness
I gave of myself.
 
Nothing perturbed
or was too much
to tend to this babe
that I had birthed.

Snow Leopard

Posted by Bodhirose

Photo:  Snow Leopard.com (permission given for personal use)

Hidden, rare, you escape our questing eyes
Dizzying altitudes are where you lay
Tibetan mountains offer sly disguise
Shadows darkened blend with your spotted gray
While romping blue sheep are your choicest prey
Slate-stone, thick, heavy coat…wide, padding paws
Keep you fixed… and warm…as you slink away
Naps on the cliffs, yawning jaws..stretching claws
 

Monkey Mind, Monkey Do

Picture:  Google Images

monkey mind
keeps me awake
mulling, thinking
worrying, wondering
 
tossing, turning
trying to get
comfortable..(as if
that would help)

Universal Mother

Photo:  Google Images

Brilliant, bright light pierces my third eye

Awakening my vision as never before

Awareness is streaming,

There’s no longer separation;

I’m in a place of nirvana

And the world is at peace.

Celebrate Your Self

Celebrate your self honoring

every moment of your breath.

Breathing in deeply, take stock of within.

Breathing out slowly, what do you feel?

Is something joyful tickling your heart or are

you struggling with a painful twinge in your arm?

Just take notice as these sensations arise

and then let them go gently, leaving judgment behind.

Whose Bones Are These?

 

Hiking along the well-worn path

always looking down ahead of me,

I spy some bones laid out neatly.

They’re tiny and delicate,

perfect in form of the animal

that once had enclosed them.

Lack of “Got”

 

(Photo credit: Sean MacEntee)


Can’t deny that these times are harsh
Unemployment is skyrocketing
Life no longer plush
 
Can’t afford a movie
Or going out to eat
Forget about a vacation
It’s simply not allowed

No Lover Have I

 

No lover have I to claim, please nor boast
This worldly pathway alone is my stead
Feet fly lightly; I’m free to wildly coast
My mind clear of another’s wringing dread
 
Although attracted by masculine silhouette
In his heart and mind lay my discontent
No matter tall, dark, handsome or brunet
Lecturing discourse soon brings grave dissent

Poetical Contender

A thought inspired gives birth to form
Images follow and the pen begins to quiver
Writing flows forth with rhyming transform
Sonnet, villanelle or a couplet sliver
 
A need for expression with lyrical feel
Profound emotions in succinct detail
Straight from the heart it emerges real
From strong and savage to delicate and frail