Tag Archives: poetry

Sinister Portents

sinister secrets of
menace foreboding,
unknown, in black night
threatening Continue reading →

Refuge and haven – this is why I write

There’s a secret place within
me, and long well I’ve known it.
A hidden, sheltered space where
light and shadow dance with my Muses.

Only here am I safe, if no Continue reading →

Moonlit summer night.

A haiku. I wrote this, well, thought it, on my drive to work just a few moments ago. Enjoy:

Moon shrouded by clouds
masking, enhancing beauty
on hot summer night

“Innocence & Childhood: Reflection & Longing”

Every year I live, growing
older, realizing what I
have yet to learn, recalling
earlier years with fondness:

I miss the innocence of
childhood, I long for the
summers of my youth….

Long-lasting days were filled
with tree-climbing, friends,
and riding our bikes.
Strenuous games of tag,
rounds of epic hide an’ seek.
Creating stories to play
out with our toys: Pound Puppies,
My Little Ponies, Beanie Babies….
Hours lost in play without a care.

Warm summer nights, no
rules, sleepovers and staying up late.
Gathering with our families around
giant, crackling bonfires,
making s’mores til midnight,
filling jars with lightning bugs.

Simple pleasures fueling
childhood joy.
Reality was whatever we wanted.
Life was full and happy;
we were indomitable.
In childhood, we dreamed of bright
futures and where we would go,
the dreams we would reach….

Only twenty years later, and
I barely recognize my reflection.
Happiness and innocence
bowed to tragedy and
responsibility even as
childhood yielded to adulthood.

Long since, my hair began to
grey, calluses formed (both
figurative and literal).
Now fine lines make their
entrance, mirroring those
of heart and soul upon
face and hands.

Such is the wear and
tear of life upon this state of
humanity, of time upon
mortality.

Responsibilities now weigh as
age keeps encroaching.
In adulthood, I remember the
joy of innocence, yearning to
return to a time, a place,
where dreams could come true.
Reality proved harsh and
unexpected; life
is mundane,
and I feel
empty

Note: Lack of ending punctuation is intentional.

Far from my best, but this has wanted out these past several days that I’ve been wallowing in the mire of my funk.

NaPoWriMo: Day 28 –

Yet again, nothing too exciting. Obviously, my head is nowhere pleasant. Sorry. [UPDATE/EDIT] This was supposed to be a “shadorma” (which i originally spelled w an “n”). But i obviously forgot the syllable counts when i began to write. The second lines should be five syllables, not four. Apologies.

I don’t want
to feel like this
anymore.
Back to bed,
let the darkness win again
the fight for my head.

Everything
just seems to be
so futile.
Why bother?
Too much effort when none of
it even matters.

NaPoWriMo Day 27!

Nothing stupendous:

Making the required
responses, and
going through expected
motions.
Tasks are performed by
rote, dutifully as the
ticking of a timepiece.
When did life become
so mundane,
mechanical?

NaPoWriMo: Day 26! (It’s the final countdown *cues music*)

“Casting Shadows”

Turn your face to the sun,
take one step into the light;
may it fall warm upon uplifted face.
Let not shadows behind fill you with fright.
You cannot escape them,
they cannot be evaded.
Constant companions they will stay;
your storied past cannot be traded.

Eyes lifted to bright sky,
take another step. Smell the clean air;
it is unfouled by former path,
so have not a care.
Shadows are cast behind, short or long;
with light ahead they fall behind you.
There let them stay, as is there place.
Ahead, in the light, is your beautiful view.

Comfort & solace in the words of another; I love this poem.

This is one of those days where this speaks directly to my heart.

“Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

NaPoWriMo Day 25: “Life is a Poem”

Life is a poem,
And poetry is music.
Eyes to see the imagery.
Heart to beat the meter.
Every breath a rhyme.

Life is a poem
Composed of many stanzas.
For each its own lines,
A different story to tell.
Chapters of life, verses of song.

Some may comprise a tragedy –
Full of loss and many tears.
Heartbreak and loneliness,
Or being set adrift.
Keep open eyes; it’s not over.

Others will be a comedy –
If only in hindsight.
Perhaps just a chuckle, but
Laughter with friends who’ve seen you through.
Another heartbeat, another stanza.

Moments of high drama will come,
Then pass into fond memory:
Great successes and tiny failures,
Accomplishment of dreams and goals.
Draw a deep breath – now write the next verse.

Now, an exercise in form: triolet

My thoughts are racing here and there;
I could not focus anyway.
At times it seems I cannot bear –
My thoughts are (racing here and there)
Disjointed – being caught in snare.
Staunch will my mind will not obey;
My thoughts are racing here and there-
I could not focus anyway.