red sun, black moon
sun gazing for the first time
8- 21- 2017
I started writing again the day of the Full Solar Eclipse. I started writing poetry, but I have had trouble typing up blog posts. Side note, there are people out there who are “sun gazers” who stare at the sun. Don’t do that. But do leave me a like and a comment!
white horse on white snow
hard to tell the two apart
mixture of feelings
Still in limbo. I’m trying to get to where I need to be, but it isn’t easy. I am really wanting to post more, but life happened. Please stick with me as I am still writing and will be posting poetry for years to come.
line of storm clouds
line for parent pickup
line of red cannas
Today was the last day of summer school. Yay! So no more parent pickup for a while. It’s funny that I wrote this last year because it stormed today and my cannas are blooming. My cannas flowers are just now budding out. I have to sprinkle them with Sevin Dust before the Japanese beetles eat them and ruin their beauty. Follow me on Instagram to see what my son said about the last day of summer school.
birds shrouded in mist
they chirp knowing spring is
but a cloud away
Spring looks like it has already arrived in much of the USA. How does your area look?
my path to joy
swallows dipping in the sky
never a straight line
Today’s prompt was to write about something in nature. I had the image of swallows in my head and wanted to write about that. What do you think?
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the good news
told in the dogwood’s petals
about how he bled for us
told over and over each spring
I first shared this tanka on Twitter as I was inspired to write it by #WrittenRiver prompt 917 “for all eternity.”
The legend of the dogwood tree comes from a poem, author unknown, about the relationship between the tree and the cross on which Jesus was crucified:
In Jesus’ time, the dogwood grew
To a stately size and a lovely hue.
‘Twas strong and firm, its branches interwoven.
For the cross of Christ its timbers were chosen.
Seeing the distress at this use of their wood
Christ made a promise which still holds good:
“Never again shall the dogwood grow
Large enough to be used so.
Slender and twisted, it shall be
With blossoms like the cross for all to see.
As blood stains the petals marked in brown,
The blossom’s center wears a thorny crown.
All who see it will remember Me
Crucified on a cross from the dogwood tree.
Cherished and protected, this tree shall be
A reminder to all of My agony.”
The dogwood is a genus of between thirty and sixty plants including shrubs, evergreens, and flowering trees. Dogwoods are most common in China, Japan, and the US, but can also be found in Eurasia, although not naturally. The wood is very hard, but, as the poem suggests, trees large enough to provide lumber for a cross are rare.
To see where I found this information click here.
five purple petals
on every little flower
OCD in nature
People often think of nature as this wild thing that just sprawls with no direction or planning. I disagree.
mist softens the earth
the earth lets grass spring up
recognizing the season
Recognize the season that you’re in, then embrace it.
broken down with nothing to hide.
They’re not dancing in a mascaraed ball
trying to impress a suitor.
They just are.
With arms lifted they shout
here I am.
They aren’t trying to hide anything.
They are so transparent
you can see houses through them.
They don’t bend their branches
to try to hide their roots.
They stand naked before you
and dare you to judge them
tangled birds’ nests and all.
They are stoic
as winter winds beat against them.
If only people
could be as honest and open
as the trees.
I thought you guys might need a break from the mommy poetry so I decided to share this today. I will get back in town tomorrow, but I will not have time to respond to any comments until this weekend.
the bird decays further
’til he is only feathers
I started dating my poems halfway through last year. I wish I had always dated them. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to leave the dates off. My attitude towards writing and poetry has changed a little bit in the past decade. I wonder what I will be like, or what style I will use a decade from now?
the blue jay squawks
telling the dog something
a zinger I’m sure
If you are unsure of the rules or form of haiku, please go to my What is Haiku? page. You can stop by the Facebook page where most of us poets meet to get a prompt and try crafting a haiku poem yourself. Yesterday’s prompt was “zinger”. I feel like I didn’t do that great, but at least I wrote a poem and got it posted.