Let Me Be a Wild Thing

I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself.  A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.  D. H. Lawrence 

if life and death are a circular route
without a beginning or an ending
and if we may choose what we’ll
be the next time we pass through

let me be a wild thing
that nature will fully support
I’ll have a home of my own
making, no mortgage that

will strangle and worry,
food I will forage for
and find as life provides
my head not cluttered

with thoughts of lack
and measuring myself
against my neighbor
I won’t need a walk-in

closet for excess clothing
and shoes that bind and
hurt my feet; I’ll just
be me and that will

be enough
I’ll soar with wings
because I can or
paw the earth and

smell its wealth of
gifts to make things
grow and unfold
my hooves will

gallop with unparalleled glee
feeling the wind as I pick
up speed and know I am
free to come and go,

to just be me

Abhra hosts Poetics today at dVerse Poets and asks us what would we like to come back as if we had the choice:  http://dversepoets.com/2016/02/02/poetics-coming-back/

Cinderella’s Close Call

Image from Bluebell Books

Only memories of that astonishing time
remained to mull over on this quiet
day lounging in her garden.
Sipping raspberry leaf tea and perching
upon what had once been a magical
carriage, she mused on the turn of events.
Yes, she had met her Prince Charming and yes,
they had married but she quickly came to realize
that she preferred an unfettered life.
Her domineering and tyrannical mother-in-law
would have kept her enslaved and downtrodden…
hadn’t she already experienced that?
She reflected on her selfish stepmother and crabby
stepsisters and knew she had made the right decision.
Taking another sip of tea, she stretched and smiled.
No, she preferred a life free of manipulation and
control…the freedom to  tend her pumpkin patch
with no one to answer to but herself.
Hanging on a low branch of a nearby tree,
the glass slippers remind her of what she
had almost lost…again.

Mary invites us to write on Modern Day Mythology at dVerse Poets.  Pick a character and put a spin on the story that we are familiar with.  http://dversepoets.com/2013/03/30/poetics-modern-day-mythology/

O Joy!

Google Images

A bird I spied up in the oak,
Shadows therein did give him cloak.

Trilling whistles did he engage,

O joy!  Freedom from gilded cage.

I thrilled to watch you through my scope.
Your charming antics brought me hope.

Petulant warble as if onstage,

O joy!  Freedom from gilded cage.

Bib, crown and nape of rufous hue,
With wings of deepest, dusky blue.

Who are you little spirit sage?

O joy!  Freedom from gilded cage.

I actually taught myself this form some time ago and this is what I came up with.  I’m still taking the “easy” way (rather than meter) and used eight syllables for each line.

Gay Reiser Cannon guides us in the Kyrielle form today over at dVerse Poets for FormForAll:   http://dversepoets.com/2012/12/20/formforall/

Feeling Bliss

Feeling           bliss            this            time               would          come

Bliss             arrived         when             I                       did                   see

This          when          awakened       shall                 I                       feel                   

Time           I                    shall                   be                    ever                  free      

Would          did              I                    ever                  feel                   today                

Come               see              feel               free                  today                always

Google Images

Today,  Semaphore (Sam) shows us the clever Square Poem at FormForAll with an example by Lewis Carroll: http://dversepoets.com/2012/06/28/form-for-all-square-poems/

Mine reads both horizontally and in columns…well it’s supposed to make sense if you do it this way!  It hurt my brain but it was fun.

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
Self-centered pride..tiresome monotony
No beau of mine will seek to grieve mislead
Be gone if share not love of botany
Stiff deportment serves to stay me freed
Line up if you will; I’ll yield you a chance
Turn my mind with a wild, whirling romance


Shakespeare (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My first attempt at a Shakespearean Sonnet…critique welcome…I hope I had a clue..

International Women’s Day

I’m dedicating this post to the Afghan Women’s Writing Project created by writer Marsha Hamilton:  http://awwproject.org/about/

A global event
for women,
to celebrate
commit and
is today being
presented by
the Women’s

your life and
see where you
can improve
the self worth
of you as a
person and
those around
you in your
world’s realm.

Speak out
strongly when
an opinion
you must
express and
don’t back
down from
those who
would rather
have you mute.

Come together,
there’s strength
in numbers and
encourage and
reach out to
those young girls
and women who
feel afraid to be
and do.  You
each have a voice.

     I was researching and reading about International Women’s Day which is today and came across an article written about the Afghan Women’s Writing Project.  It was started by Marsha Hamilton, a novelist and journalist.  It is dedicated to the memory of Zarmeena, an Afghan woman accused of murdering her husband and who was subsequently executed by the Taliban.  Many of these Afghan women write anonymously and in secret from their families in fear of retribution.  They share essays, personal stories and poems about their lives and what they wish for a future where they can have a voice and not hide in fear, and behind the veil of the burqa.  I honor these women and celebrate them today.

~Gayle Walters Rose

Also linking this to Souldipper’s Occupy Blogosphere for sharing of uplifting and inspiring posts each Thursday: http://souldipper.wordpress.com/2012/03/07/occupy-blogosphere-thursday-march-8-2012-10/

O Joy!

A bird I spied up in the oak,
Shadows therein did give him cloak.
Trilling whistles did me engage,
O joy!  Freedom from gilded cage.

I thrilled to watch you through my scope.
Your charming antics brought me hope.
Petulant warble as if onstage,
O joy!  Freedom from gilded cage.

Bib, crown and nape of rufous hue,
With wings of deepest, dusky blue.
Who are you…little spirit sage?
O joy!  Freedom from gilded cage.



A Kyrielle is a French form of rhyming poetry written in quatrains (a stanza consisting of 4 lines), and each quatrain contains a repeating line or phrase as a refrain (usually appearing as the last line of each stanza).  Each line within the poem consists of only eight syllables.  There is no limit to the amount of stanzas a Kyrielle may have, but three is considered the accepted minimum.

Some popular rhyming schemes for a Kyrielle are:  aabB, ccbB, ddbB, with B being the repeated line, or abaB, cbcB, dbdB.

Mixing up the rhyme scheme is possible for an unusual pattern of:  axaZ, bxbZ, cxcZ, dxdZ, etc. with Z being the repeated line.  The rhyme pattern is completely up to the poet.


So often life is like this,
our hands are tied;
we see an escape but
it lies just beyond our reach. 

How have we put ourselves
in this space of immobility?
What has brought us here–what
choices did we make to serve
up what is staring us down? 

If we always had it easy…if life
drifted along with no ripples,
no bumps or dips–would we still
move, grow and learn?  Would we
still awaken to the truth–that all
of this is but an illusion?

If we allow what is with no resistance,
we’ll find that we are eternally unfettered.

Image by Mostafa Habibi

Magpie Tales # 95:  http://magpietales.blogspot.com/

Open Link Night at dVerse Poets:  http://dversepoets.com/2011/12/13/openlinknight-week-22/

Thank You, But No

Just Say No

Image by donnamarijne via Flickr

Thank you, but no.

I will no longer read your letters

nor will I listen to your voice.

Goodbye has been said.

Overflowing are my head and heart

of the words you’ve spoken that pierced them both.

So long, too long, I listened and heard

the rantings and manipulation you spewed forth

lectures really–of your ideas and defenses.

Too long, so long, you tried to convince me

that I was wrong and mistaken in my thinking.

Words were twisted and used against me.

Trust and faith were tools of your trade,

but they were mine that you took and

carelessly mishandled.

Delicate and sacred, I gifted them to you,

but they were not valued nor kept secure.

I hadn’t noticed when our passion ignited

that you were unbalanced and suffering then.

I looked ouside and didn’t see clearly,

instead of noticing my reality within.

Young lust had won out.

I had to learn,

a lesson of self worth;

it sure was hard won.

But now I can say,

Thank you, but no.

My entry to dVerse Poets, Open Link Night: http://dversepoets.com/2011/08/30/openlinknight-week-7/#comments

Underground Railroad

Under cover of night
When no moon is in sight
Preparations are made
To run for their lives

The railroad’s network
Connects them to freedom
Safe haven’s distance
Becomes a slave’s challenge

Their earnest desire
Propelling them on
No longer accepting
White man’s dominion

No law’s protection
Covers their lives
Ownership by another
No longer abides

Compassion for others
Themselves already free
Reach out to their brethren
With sanctuary

Zigzagging they go
To this place and that
Refuge offered
With food, shelter and rest

These railroad cars
A beacon of light
In a world full of darkness
No one caring their plight

With self-determination
They make their release
Bound to find liberty
And their emancipation

The institution of slavery
The beginning of the end
War fought for justice
For every man

Entry for Poets United:  http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/

Walking Away

At first all I felt was just a pinch or two

perhaps likened to an itch upon my foot.

Then a vague uncertainty arose as the sting grew worse.

Words were spoken to confuse me, demeaning my worth

  But he’s right, I’m wrong, it’s all meant for my benefit.

 I became expert at shoving those doubts aside,

and not wanting to notice them as the years rolled by.

But my insides knew something was drastically wrong,

an insidious pall was taking over my heart.

 The atmosphere of our life grew pervasively ill.

 I started to decline; my head grew heavy;

my mind was being manipulated by a calculating crazy.

I grew worrisome and anxious–what was the truth?

My body knew the answer but my mind wouldn’t follow suit.


 Eventually I woke up–I faced it at last, the sober reality was that I had to get out.

You’ll never make it without me, was his shout as I walked out the door.

But the freedom and confidence I felt was no illusion,

There’s no one outside of me making my decisions.

Monday’s Poetry Potluck:  Doubts, Fear, Inhibitions and Hesitations;  http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com/

Two Worlds

Look at Earth from the Heaven

Image via Wikipedia

I’m living between two worlds:

In one I’m conscious and aware,

in the other I’m struggling in a dream.

I see the purity and love in my heart.

I perceive my flaws and faults in extreme.

I can mindfully follow my breath in and out.

I breathe in staccato from the anger I shout.

I can serve others through selfless actions.

I fail to control my own selfish emotions.

I’ve had glimpses of illumination bringing about joy and bliss,

only to find me the next day floundering around in my grief.

I’ve lived with intention and have known my soul’s freedom–

only to be swirled around again in a tidal pool of thoughts.

On the outside I can appear to be a very calm human being;

but inside I can be erupting into a million little pieces.

But I’m watching and practicing to see this and accept

that I’m like everyone else–we’re all just trying our best.

I’m learning to let go of the patterns that don’t serve

and live in the spirit of the lightness of just being.

Is this life a true duality or is it only our thoughts that give us this feeling?

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