Rock Springs

Rock Springs, Apopka, FL; image from Pinterest

spring of my youth
where rocks stay
lodged for endless ages
and I rushed around
them in my haste to
run, jump, hurdle
myself into the
flesh-freezing waters
that refreshed my
body with soul-baring
joy to revisit there again
 
the horizon was brought
up short by the thick
forested trees that
surrounded and kept
partially hidden that
crystal clear pool
that burbled endlessly
up from the depths
of a magical, carved
out cave of underwater
rock…it frightened me
to push my face down
below the surface and
gaze down, down into
that deepness where
boulders had rolled
and shifted and created
the perfect home for
that purity to come forth
 
charming though were
the shallow paths
of water mostly ankle
deep that meandered
through the woods
then to stop and excavate
miniature springs and
extract treasures of tiny
shells and sharks’ teeth
from countless eons ago
 
darkness descends on this
sweet paradise and the
shouts and laughter
of children fall silent
as the wood-burning grill’s
embers slowly weaken and
the colors echo the sunset

Please join me Thursday at 3PM as I host Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub.  Choose any one of your poems to share.

Life Force

We are vibration.
Our lives are a continuous
series of sparks that ignite
our life force and maintain
our beating hearts and breath.
Do we arrive with a finite number
of inhalations and exhalations
that we fulfill before we flicker
out into complete nothingness?

Join us at dVerse Poets as we celebrate our 6th year anniversary and our Quadrille prompt given by Grace.

I Wish You Well

My heart stirs with compassion
as I watch the old woman carrying
her packages down the sidewalk.
Most likely many years past the
ability to drive but I surmise that
she still must use her unsteady
legs to make her way to retrieve
food and the other necessities
of sustenance. Has she no one
who can or will assist her? I think
of my own mother who is now
surrounded by family members
and others who pitch in to aid
her in all of her daily needs.
I marvel at the strength it takes
of an elderly woman (who I
judge should be relaxing and
cared for in her later years) to
trek out into the world and fend
for herself. Of course these are
all assumptions I’m making but
still I send blessings that she
be well, that she feel loved,
may she feel content, and may
all of the universe support her
soul on its singular journey.
For some reason tears appear.

Join us for Poetics hosted by Paul Dear Tuesday 3PM EST at dVerse Poets Pub where he presents Blessing poems.

Unfettered

She wants a green funeral
laid to rest at the roots
of her Christian upbringing
where monks roam
the Monastery of the Holy Spirit
and peace has inherited these acres.

A plain pine box will
encase her remains and
simply, shallowly placed
beneath the oaks, where
their leaves have quietly
drifted and come to rest.

Her spirit will be set
free as it lifts from her
form effortlessly, casting
off the shell that no longer
is of use. Once more her
essence will be unbound
by earthly attachments
and joy and wholeness
will be hers.

Unfettered she merges with
her God Source and the
love that surrounds her
permeates her soul.
Any pain or discomfort
is no more. She is in a state
of endless, divine worship.
All is Good and we will
rejoice in her freedom
while at the same time
mourning the loss of our
Dearly Beloved Sister.

I wrote this after speaking with the sister of my childhood friend, Patsy, and learning that her time with us was very limited.  She passed away on April 15, 2017 after living seven years with cancer.  Before their mother passed away, the three of them would visit this beautiful monastery in Conyers, GA and enjoy the peaceful grounds.  They offer “green” burials and Patsy decided that she wanted to be laid to rest on the acreage that is set aside for this purpose.  You can read about the monastery here.

Join me as I host Open Link Night at dVerse Poets where the pub doors will open Thursday, 3PM EST.

Unsound

Life was becoming quieter.
Sounds that once were sharp
and clear are dulled and muddled.
These ears that had once been
sound were damaged by
an infection and quickly lost
their acuity. My place in the
world of the hearing has now
been diminished.

Please join us at dVerse Poets Pub where Victoria is our hostess for our Monday Quadrille.  The pub opens at 3PM EST.

Traces

She applied pale and
ethereal
colors in her paintings.
Sometimes they were
almost imperceptible,
and just shadows or echoes
of her subject. It had both
a ghostly and melancholy
effect. Her artistry spoke
in hints and shades of
times that have now been lost.

Join us at dVerse as De presents Quadrille Monday.  Come have some fun with one of our most popular forms.

Mundane Morning

We heard a loud shooshing
sound from our second floor
apartment. We ran to the
back sliding glass door just
in time to see a hot air balloon
just barely skimming the roof!
Wasn’t expecting to see that on
this no-longer, uneventful
mundane morning.

Join us at dVerse Poets Pub as De presents our Monday Quadrille prompt.  The pub opens at 3PM Monday EST.

Kali

Where did you reside before
you made your entrance here?
Was it in the darkness beyond the sun?
Did you dance within the Milky Way
and skip among the countless stars
that crowd the cosmos far and wide?
Did you slide down moonbeams
and have the glowing dust of
nebulae sparkle through your hair?
Did you sit at the feet of the Masters
who meditate in the ethers
to raise the vibration of all existence?

An astral body was your vehicle then, created
of light and prana that you transported
effortlessly between the myriad
planes of existence. Nothing hindered
your explorations and curiosity of
All That Is. You dwelt there in a state of
Connection to Every Thing with joy and delight.

O, Tiny Giant, now you have taken a human form
and chosen those who will guide, teach and protect
you as you journey on to continue your adventures.
What path will you seek to take?
Follow your light.
Follow your breath.
Ride the waves of nature and learn from the wind,
the water, trees and animals. They teach freedom.
You need nothing else but belief in yourself.

O, Divine Kali Devi, I hold you in
light and love as you expand
in consciousness
during your stay in this
Earthly realm.
May you be surrounded in love.
May you always feel safe.
May you live in peace.
May grace and acceptance be yours.

The Wheel of Becoming
continues its spin
throughout your
comings and goings.
 Its energy
propels you
ever forward
toward your
Knowingness and Ease.

Join me today for Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub at 3PM EST.

How to Explain

how to explain feelings that wane
when once they waxed in fiery flames
our breathing ragged gasps untamed
 
sweating bodies now arid strain
love’s a languid mess entangled
how did it come to be this stain
 
searching not where to lay the blame
how to explain feelings that wane

Bjorn hosts one last Open Link Night before our winter break.  Please join us in linking any one poem of your choice at dVerse.

How to Cultivate Compassion

Take a childhood of abandonment and mix that with equal parts of anxiety and panic.

Fold the child within herself and leave her ashamed and confused.

Have her cry every time you leave her, ignoring her pleas and staying out extra late.

Add to that alcoholism and narcissism and beat well into a frothy mess.

Top this off with screams of hatred in the middle of the night, waking the child.

Send your child out into the world fearful and insecure yet expect the best from her.

 

Take a now, young adult who follows her own path and add self worth.

Stir in copious amounts of sensitivity for those who suffer.

Enlarge her already sweet heart and add two darling girls of her own to love.

Give her a voice.

Give her a stronger voice.

Add courage, strength of survival and allow her to find joy again.

 

Mix well and let her compassion flow out into the world.

Join us for Poetics where Mish prompts us on writing recipes of life, love, misery, compassion…what have you.

Life Without Regret; A Sijo

The elderly Samurai’s katana had lain unused for decades
His weapons now displayed prominently honoring his ranking
Stern eyes reflect his pensive memories—lives taken

Grace hosts Open Link Night over at dVerse Poets Pub…join us and choose any one poem to share.

Standing Post: Trees in Practice

“For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche.”

Hermann Hesse, Bäume. Betrachtungen und Gedichte

No hard benches for me, or pulpits, altars or holy books,
give me skies of blue with cirrus wisps that scribble truths.
Gatherings of trees are my sangha, age old wisdom expounded
from the roughened bark and steadfast trunks that abide in calmness.
Their messages aren’t harsh and do not tell of hell and brimstone death
but instead teach trust in their brethren and nature as teachers.
Leaves and boughs happily greet as the breeze gently lifts in a
tender, quiet song of connected joy that is shared with those below.
Peace and harmony reign here in this sacred space of believers.
For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers.

Their serenity is multiplied when gathered in great throngs.
There is no jostling for favoritism or pushing aside of others
so that they may be held in higher esteem; trees teach humility.
It is hallowed ground that supports trees. I whisper in their midst.
You, I venerate as I sit at your feet and feel your gifts permeate my soul.
Quiet, meditating in one place…be still, find earth’s hidden treasure troves.
Strong, yet yielding in the face of seasons’ harshness; I bow O Masters.
My heart is restored and a reverence is imparted to me that uplifts.
Mystical beings dance and play among your holy, secret alcoves.
I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves.

Isolated or living apart from one another, trees lift their limbs in resilience.
Though alone, rooted to the ground, they are visited and inhabited by
birds, animals, myriad bugs and even air plants that join them.
Stoic and steadfast is the solitary sentinel.
When separate and alone they stand like quiet beacons in the fog.
Having no others to entangle their branches, they sometimes feel unknown.
They stretch and reach out and up, vainly feeling for a neighbor.
But do their hearts languish or brood when kept to themselves?
O lone willow whose drooping branches caress a pond, here you are sown.
And even more I revere them when they stand alone.

Patience and endurance rule in the heart of the ancient oak.
Wisdom reflects from her heart where the Great Horned Owl resides.
Distinguished, with ancient ties to Vikings and Tigers, she rests.
These Masters of Stillness have taught contemplation since millennia.
Like the Crane poised to strike a fish, they wait in silence.
They draw strength from the community of all species.
Their brilliance is oftentimes overshadowed by their infinite modesty and grace.
The hum of om strums through their leaves gaining strength on the wind that then plays out into the universe.
These stately, wizened beings spend their lives in harmony, no need for treaties.
They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche.

*Standing Post is a martial arts form based in Chi Kung.  This Glosa was inspired by a dear friend who has mastered this form.

Grace is our host this evening for Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub.  Come join us and share any one poem that you would like.

The Alouette; Meeting the Bar

Victorian Scrap Art; Bing Images

Victorian Scrap Art; Bing Images

skylarks flying high
scatter dreams from sighs
catch them as they drift to earth
from all daydreams spun
choose the happy ones
of starlight, moon beams and mirth

sprites and elves play here
in streams crystal clear
fireflies glow like small green orbs
cast tiny shadows
of days long ago
captured in dim woodland garb

~~~~

numinous children
of indigo send
vibrations of empathy
for love’s benefit
transcendentalists
hold this planet preciously
 
riding the current
of energy, urgent
messages relayed along
cosmic connectors
sending protectors
to dwell among the earth’s throngs

I hope you will join with me at dVerse Poets Pub where I present The Alouette.  The doors will open at 3PM EST Thursday.

Diversion

As if on cue,
in the same
whirlwind in which
he had arrived,
he departed.
I was the target
of his need for
diversion.
The opening of
emotions and
shared laughs
were deep.
Amazing
how quickly
your heart acts
to secure you
to another.

De is our host at dVerse for our Quadrille prompt.  Read her presentation for all the details.

A New Revolution

SCCRRRAAAATCH
the past revolutions!
Our rhythm heralds
a different way.
Perhaps we won’t
be so peaceful!
We’ll run amok
and churn up
the muck!
Change will
come, Oh Yes!
Starting with
YOU THERE, all
cushy ensconced
in your lifelong
tenure of perks!
Public “servants”?
MY ASS!
Your time has come
and you are gone!
The future belongs
to us all now, not
just a select few.
We RAGE at paths
lined in blood!
We are damning the
torpedoes that lay
waste to countless
innocent lives!
Link arms and
put up a united
front to end this
insanity that is
rooted in politics.
It’s a ruse DON’T YOU SEE?
We’re being royally
BAMBOOZLED!
Nothing is untouched
by the ravages of this
cesspool of corruption.
We’re pulling the plug
and letting the sewage
be absorbed into the
void that it deserves.
Slate clean lies our future.
Lay down your pens
and put aside your
intellect and FEEL
GODDAMIT!!!!
If we lose our hearts
we lose everything.

Victoria is our host at dVerse Open Link Night but couldn’t be with us today because of a family emergency.  Our hearts go out to her.

Wild Flowers

sizzling word play
zings back and forth
playful, sexy sparks
combust our hearts
and ignites our blood
 
wild flowers calm
but not our ardor
a breeze gently
ruffles the petals
 
I accept your offered
arm and pledge steady,
soul-melding hugs
that sustain us both

The Quadrille is our prompt today and is presented by De at dVerse Poets Pub.  See her presentation for all the details and join us for one of our most favorite prompts!

Florida’s Fall

Just yesterday the geckos were
still hunting their night prey
under the illumination of the
porch light along the front
of the house. Before they can
shy away, I catch sight of them
flattened against the upper wall
high above the red, front door.

Just yesterday, I spied two toads
as I cleared away some weeds and
brush from plantings out front.

Just yesterday there were bees
buzzing around a small crop
of wildflowers that had bloomed
and formed an oasis of color
without any seeding from me.

Just yesterday a small mouse was
caught on the bird feeder;
determined, he stayed put as I
slowly approached. We eyeballed
each other until his nerves folded
and he scampered up and away
through the boughs of the ligustrum.

Just yesterday the roses were in full
blossom, red, pink, nearly white and
yellow stretching their thorny branches
against the wall and up the arbors that
help support their lanky, heavily
budded limbs.

Just yesterday, the bushy-tailed,
elusive fox was spotted fishing a frog
from the overflowed ditch that runs
behind all the houses. He paused long
enough that I could watch for a few short
minutes and then he vanished under cover
into the wooded, overgrown lot next door.

Just yesterday I came across the black
racer, moving quickly across my path,
eager to hide and disappear into the
wide hedge that lines the sidewalk.

Just yesterday the Mockingbird couple
chattered back and forth until one took
up its singing and the other chimed in
with quick chirps of admiration.

Just yesterday the humidity was at almost
saturation point, it might as well have been
rain that dampened my skin and frizzed my
hair. The afternoon thunderstorm cooled
the temperature but only added to the
heaviness of the air, the only relief–indoors.

But today the humidity has dropped and there’s
a slight chill during the early morning hours.
The sunlight has dimmed slightly and its heat
isn’t as fierce as it has been for several months.
There’s an almost imperceptible change afoot
perhaps only noticed by those who have
lived in these parts for decades…yes, fall has
arrived, I’m sure of it.

Join me at dVerse Poets Pub for Open Link Night.  Choose any one poem that you would like to share.

The Times They Have Changed

Come gather ’round people wherever you roam And admit that the waters around you have grown Accept it soon, you’ll be drenched to the bone…”The Times They Are A-Changin’” by Bob Dylan

oh, the road is impassable
and there’s no light ahead
bleakness has grown
and leadened our eyes

deserts have spread
over this land
water is scarce
and common sense too

we’re back where we
started so very long ago…
misogyny is alive and sickening
bigotry has become pathological

no one blinks at wars and unrest
the worst is the killing of our spirits
but no one notices as they slowly
slip away, replaced by rampant indifference

the good and merciful
are no longer valued
they’re seen as weak,
coddling freaks

nature was where
we once could worship
but our greedy ways
diminished it to nothing

a sterile world
is what we have left
because small-minded
people thought they knew best

Bjorn is our host for Meeting the Bar at dVerse Poets. Head over there to read his presentation on our prompt for the day. Bob Dylan is in the spotlight for winning the Nobel Prize for Literature 2016.

There’s a Silver Lining Here Somewhere

Picture from Bing Photos Public Domain; Quote by Don Marquis

Picture from Bing Photos Public Domain; Quote by Don Marquis

I feel cut loose
when things get
uncomfortable or
maybe I get too
close. My happy
mood is now
shadowed
by wondering
(w)here
I stand. Cryptic
messages cloud
the joy I once felt.

I used to turn the
blame to myself
so readily…no more.

Join us at dVerse Poets where Kim Russell presents our Quadrille Monday for us.  Head over there to learn the details; the doors open at 3PM EST.

Observations on Pottery

Photo by Gayle Walters Rose; All Rights Reserved

Photo by Gayle Walters Rose; All Rights Reserved

an inaudible hum
dull, slow, rings
around the rosy,
molded earth
inconsequential
 
beauty from the
inside emerges
to the out
eyes behold
whether a sigh
or a scream
 
roughened spots
amongst the smooth
fingers trace the
artist’s soul
 
shapes etched into
its surface, colors
applied in minute
detail
 
fire
brings it to life
 
one-of-a-kind
like stars,
fingerprints,
your face

Bjorn instructs us on Cubism at dVerse Poets.  Please join us for this interesting and informative prompt!

The Visitation

Photo Bing Images; Thick Fog

Photo Bing Images; Thick Fog

Darkness envelops
as if a deep fog has
settled in a valley,
taking my light
draining my mood.
Anxiety rushes in
to make things
a little more
interesting.
How long this time
will the Shadow lurk
and hold me fast
with her gripping claws?

De is our host at dVerse Poet’s Pub for our Monday Quadrille prompt.  Head on over there for all the details!

Rumpelstiltskin; a Clerihew

rumpel-spinning-wheel

Picture of Rumpelstiltskin; Bing Images

To read the fairy tale of Rumpelstiltskin, click here.

Lillian, I took up your challenge for a Rumpelstiltskin Clerihew!

You’re a cad, Rumpelstiltskin
though you offer your services to spin,
and a young girl trusts that you’re good
karma caught up with you just as it should!

Try your hand at a new form called the Clerihew over at dVerse Poets!

Clerihew; dVerse Form For All

 

genewilder

Gene Wilder in “Young Frankenstein”; Photo Bing Images

Gene Wilder
comic supreme no wiser
just watch “Young Frankenstein”
as he continues his bloodline
 
Tropical Storm Julia
you danced around us with a hula
Just another fews days of rain
Florida shakes it off with no pain

jackbenny                                                             Jack Benny;  Photo on Pinterest
 
Do ya’ll remember Jack Benny?
He was a man who loved to pinch a penny.
Perpetually thirty nine
he was a master of the pause…and punchline.

Join me today over at dVerse where I present another new form to play with.  The pub’s doors open at 3PM EST.

Demanding Cursor

That cursor blinking,
blinking, blinking,
a demand to write
something. It’s up to me
to appease this beast.

I think it’s patient
though, it will
keep blinking
forever
if I let it.

Remembering a time
when my mind opened fully,
my stories wrote themselves.

Victoria is our host at dVerse for our Quadrille prompt today.  Head over there to read her presentation for all the details!

Keeper of Secrets

You are the keeper of my secrets
that have been whispered in the dead
of night when no one else would
hear. I’ve turned my eyes to you,
my benevolent mother, for the
safety I’ve never felt elsewhere.
You’ve never betrayed me and have
never looked at me with reproach.

You held me in your grace all those many
years ago when I stared up into your
glowing, quiet face in the wee hours of
the morning, searching for comfort.
Together we heard the distant train
making its way through town,
a drawn-out mournful call that only the
alone could hear. You let my tears fall
freely without admonishment.

Your steadiness is dependable and
the tides dance in and out, ebbing
and flowing at your bidding…your
strength disguised by your humility.

Your gentle smile showers love through
the cosmos, limitless and enveloping
I feel the energy pulsating your cool
glow, spreading serenity.

The stars blink in silver and gold as
your reflection sparkles in their eyes.
Eons of light flows in waves
within this universal hum.

It reaches my ears and with closed eyes I join you in a calming chant of om.

Grace prompts us to write of the moon at dVerse Poets.

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Poetry Breakfast

Beginning March 20th, 2016 Poetry Breakfast will once again serve a little poetic nourishment every morning. Start your day with our new expanded menu. Poems, of course, are our specialty. But we will also be serving a fuller menu that includes poetry related creative non-fiction such as letters to and from poets, essays on poetry, and anything else that might feed a poet and poetry lover’s soul.

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Thinks and again mumbles!!

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The official blog of unofficial author Michael Marsters.

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copyright 2013 - no reuse without permission ( see bwfiction.wordpress.com for fiction and fantasy )

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Carpe Noctem Quod Tempus Fugit!

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