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 fully will 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 to give
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/

Upon the Creek

Upon the creek lies glass…emitting sheen
Unseen through clumped reed grass
But by a bathing Welsh lass
Water, nature, girl, en masse

This is my second Englyn Unodl Union, a Welsh/Celtic form introduced by Susan Judd some time ago for a FormForAll prompt at dVerse Poets…check out the particulars here: http://dversepoets.com/2012/10/11/formforall-englyn/

I’m linking this tonight at dVerse Poets for Open Link Night: http://dversepoets.com/2014/02/25/openlinknight-february-2014/

The Leaf Gatherer

At first it was the green ones
that attracted her eye…
as if they still had a bit of
life force left in them and their
suppleness felt a kinship
with her searching fingers.

But soon she took to
gathering the yellowed
and slightly mottled
leaves.  She stuffs
them in both hands,
as many as she can
cram…clutching them
dearly.  If one should
escape and fall it is
summarily retrieved
and gripped even tighter.

Our daily walks become
slowed by this activity
but I am intrigued and
watch her with
affectionate interest and
patience.  What is this
quest?  What is she
learning about the world
around her through this
repeated endeavor?
Do I really need to know?

And each day as I pick her
up to go inside after our
explorations and studies
of the outdoors…
her tiny hands spontaneously
open scattering them once again
to pattern the ground.

Grandeur on the River

Leaning back in the canoe,
my face turned to the low,
winter sun, I rest my eyes.
 
The even and
meditative strokes
of the oars gliding
through the mirrored
spring water bring
calm and contentment.
 
Late morning on the river
is quiet…most birds and
animals having fed are
taking a siesta and are
hidden from our curious eyes.
 
One lone, stocky
alligator is spotted
on the shaded bank.  He too
is at ease and makes
no move as we paddle past.
 
My fingers drift lazily
through the cold water
and I lift a few
droplets to refresh
my warmed forehead.
 
Words have little
value here…a reverence
is kept for the sanctity of
this grandeur.  A chorus
of wind rattles a stand
of bamboo and my
heart flutters with joy
as I merge with nature’s
most tender gift.

Joe Hesch opens the bar for Open Link Night # 91:  http://dversepoets.com/2013/04/09/open-link-night-91/

Small Stone # 25

Sister and brother-in-law
came for the weekend.
Long conversations over
dinner, sipping tea, laughing.
She is lovingly called
Aunt Birdie by my daughter.
She loves bird watching as
do I.  We hope to see some
nature this weekend.
Kayaking is in the picture
for Sunday…a good day
for sighting alligators, birds
and manatees in the river.
Small Stone # 25 for Writing Our Way Home for the Mindful Writing Challenge:  http://www.writingourwayhome.com/

Small Stones # 18 and # 19

I pass a group of six Sandhill Cranes
standing in the front yard of a
house on my way home from
watching the baby all day.
Majestic, dignified birds,
tall, gray, with long slender necks
and those patches of bright
red feathers on their heads.
I never get tired of seeing these
incredible viewings of nature.

Photo of Sandhill Cranes:  Google Images

Four Red-Bellied Woodpeckers
fly up into a neighbor’s tree,
one makes a swooping flight
into our yard towards the
bird feeder. We see one
visiting the feeder everyday.

Photo of Red-Bellied Woodpecker:  Google Images

My Small Stones for yesterday and today for the Mindful Writing Challenge:  http://www.writingourwayhome.com/

Small Stone # 15

We look up as we hear
the hawk as he’s circling overhead.

Another magical being
of nature that we get
to witness.

Following our path onward,
we catch a whiff of the
still-fragrant, discarded Christmas tree…

Day 15 of Writing Our Way Home’s Mindful Writing Challenge:  http://www.writingourwayhome.com/

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/

Reprieve

Sitting on the back, screened-in porch,
the afternoon shadows were lengthening
as the overhead fan droned on while I read.
Suddenly, a scrambling racket was heard
crashing down the old palm.
A hawk had grabbed a squirrel
and had pinned him to the ground.
Spying me, he released his prey
and fled…the squirrel, a reprieve.

An entry for G-Man’s Flash Friday 55:  http://g-man-mrknowitall.blogspot.com/

Haiku–An Acrostic

Hear nature’s essence
And laud succinctly.
Intrinsically…
Kudos, clarity,
Unite syllables.

Morning Bath

Photo:  Google Images

Making the rounds,
watering the outdoor plants
on the patio; I moved
down the steps and
out into the back yard.

Aiming the spray at the
lace-flowered, pink Crepe Myrtle,
I noticed a red dart come into
my line of vision from the left
…a cardinal decided to allow me
in assisting his Saturday, morning bath.

Claudia invites us to share the moments of peace and solitude in our busy lives:  http://dversepoets.com/2012/09/20/meetingthebar-beautiful-solitude/

Also sharing this for the G-Man, written in 55 words:  http://g-man-mrknowitall.blogspot.com/

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
 
streams and waterfalls flow with less urgency
readying for autumn’s harmonious refrain
the forest sheds summer’s abundance,
foliage no longer needed…branches
grown weakened are discarded
poco a poco
 
stilling…orchestrating change,
she conducts all of everything
to begin to rest
gently, by tiny increments of
lower light and coolness coming
on the whispered breeze,
she moves in stealthy, measured steps

Claudia Schoenfeld is our hostess today at Open Link Night 62 at dVerse Poets:  http://dversepoets.com/2012/09/18/openlinknight-week-62/

Harmonic Concert

Newness envelopes all in the garden
Delicate buds and shoots appear sudden
Overnight her work is apparent
Nature’s spontaneous joy is bidden

Schefflera displays its umbrella
Baby’s breath, like a laced mantilla,
Emits its honey-fragranced scent
Twining begins the mandevilla

Potted roses burst their red
Spent twigs and leaves have all been shed
Orchids prime to flaunt their stuff
New staghorn fern gets set to spread

Life renews after lying inert
Intrinsic rhythm reasserts
Vortex whirls and makes it hum
The cycle of life…harmonic concert

Photo of orchid taken by Gayle Walters Rose

dVerse Poetics; FormForAll:  Rubaiyat Quatrain:  http://dversepoets.com/2012/04/05/formforall-rubaiyat-quatrains-6/#comments

Thanks to Samuel for an informative and entertaining article on this form.

Fate

unavoidable
hatchlings left unattended
empty nest syndrome

∞ 

spring budding appears
years follow years…destiny
decrees renewal

∞ 

vulnerable snake
molting skin leaves him exposed
hawk hovers, then swoops

∞ 

withering decline
weak, slow, soft, decaying breath
death gently enters

An entry for Haiku Heights where the prompt is FATE:  http://haiku-heights.blogspot.com/

Teal Blue

Photo by Reena Walkling:  http://www.missingthemomgene.com/

dVerse Poets hosted by Brian Miller invites us to Visual-eyes:  http://dversepoets.com/2012/02/18/poetics-visual-eyes-ing/

Many thanks to Reena Walkling (introduced by Brian Miller) for your wonderful photo that got me thinking about my numerous visits to the Gulf…one of my favorite places  in Florida.

Teal-blue of the gulf
stretches in a watery vista,
bridged by inlet, the sea
that separates our lands. 

Drawn by the treasures
and mysteries in your depth,
I’m tireless in my scan where
aquamarine meets sky.

Playful Bottlenose dolphins
surf while pelicans observe
drying their wings from
their perches on the pier;

And yak loudly when gathered
in the Australian pines lining
the pure, fine, white sand
home of shorebirds and crabs. 

Shells abound on your shores,
making sacred offerings
to those fortunate to uncover
their delicate, exquisite charm. 

Nature’s exacting beauty
appeals to my sensibilities;
my spirit rejoices in her
enchanting, scenic splendor.

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.

 

Kyrielle

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.

Couplets

Couplets:

O mind, I beseech thee, be at rest
Your monkeying about, proves a test

Alone we travel upon this earth
Departing in death, the same as in birth

 

Crystalline Form: 

Wilted Flowers 

Wind scatters wilted flowers
Decades of love lies dormant on the grave

Night Rain

Tonight the rain drums out a tune
Tree frog joins in with rhythm’s measure

Moon Shadow 

Moon casts blend of shadow and light
Dimness envelopes slinking, black cat 

Angelic Clouds

Restless spring wind, gusts and lulls
Dandelions lift in angelic clouds

 

Chun Lian Form: 

Snow melt trickles down mountain
Spring crops flourish in abundance
Emerging warmth brings cheer

 

dVerse Poets:  Form For All–Couplets for the New Year with Gay Reiser Cannon

http://dversepoets.com/2011/12/29/formforall-couplets-for-the-new-year/#comments

Spanish Bayonet

Spanish bayonet

Landscape pierced by spiking spears

Guards itself while still 

a clump of Spanish bayonet yuccas

These plants are common here in Florida.  They have very sharp spikes–thus the name.

Tiny Frog

Another Tiny Frog

Image by jeffk42 via Flickr

Gazing out the living room window

A small snake emerged from a hole

He was winding to and fro

I went outside to investigate

I saved a tiny frog from becoming dinner


Sunday’s Entry for Monkey Man’s 160:  http://petzoldspracticalprose.blogspot.com/

Rippling Pond

Ripples waves bee

Image via Wikipedia

Pond ripples slightly

Insect meeting its demise–

Satiated fish.

 

Damselfly

Common Bluetail, a widespread damselfly in Afr...

Image via Wikipedia

Lazing beside my pool one day

I watch a flying bug draw near–

A damselfly’s swept down to play.

Wings like stained-glass segments framed,

Her beauty’s reflection shows no shame.

She dazzles me with colors bright,

As she dances in a shaft of light.

I’m enchanted with her lovely nature

When she swoops down low to verify my manner.

Checking me out from top to bottom,

She circles around one of my biggest toes.

Intently I’m watching as she makes a landing

Right upon her personal runway.

Her delicate legs which are pairs of three,

Lightly take hold of a part of me.

She sits there gracefully while we observe each other.

We stare and stare for more than an hour,

While she perches on me like I’m some flower.

Does she know I’m a person, not an inanimate thing?

Perhaps she was just curious or simply resting.

Whatever it is that has brought us together,

We like it so much we made a date for tomorrow.

 


 

Sandhill Crane

Red-head Sandhill Crane

long, graceful neck extending–

regally stands still,

alert to its surroundings,

 quick snatch, frog becomes dinner.

These striking, tall birds are common here in Florida.

Constant Change

Shadows dappled across the door’s screen as I gazed outside
to watch a scene play out that’s in constant motion.
The hibiscus, delphinium and charming-faced pansy all
have an extra bud or two and the Mandevilla vine has
twined in-and-out around the trellis, filling in its empty spaces.
There against the base of the tall, sturdy pine, lies a
pile of needles not there when last checked–
discarding the old to patiently wait for spring’s new.
The old oak  has a squirrel attached to its bark,
hanging upside down by his toes, perusing the yard.
I catch the swift flight of the tiny Palm Warbler
as he vanishes within the branches of the fuchsia-hued Crepe Myrtle.
The orange and black Monarch, that routinely visits, is nuzzling about
in the prickly-stemmed lantana, replenishing his nectar.
I spy a lone bumble bee, heavily hovering among the declining
sunflowers picking up pollen along his erratic, solo journey.
It’s late in the day and the sunlight is waning, so I
wait for the cardinals to make their appearance–
they always fly in late to visit the feeder.
There’s a slight chill in the air as this evening approaches,
so more changes will be arriving.  The toads will find haven
under the deep-mulched leaves, while lizards will hitchhike
aboard when I bring the potted plants inside.
It’s the way of nature;  it’s always in motion, change is
inevitable–the only permanence we can count on.


My entry for Monday’s Poetry Potluck Week 12

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