A Pebble for Your Thoughts

It drops
A pebble thought
Spinning circles through
This fractured heart
Some pieces cannot
Be pushed together
Magnetic poles in
Opposition pushing
Away the tethers
That used to bind
Yet my mind
Stubbornly tries
To find
Where the pieces
Might fit
Wonders why
The shapes changed
Won't accept that
Some things
Can't be explained
And the pebbles
Keep falling
Like the rain

This is offered for Alan's prompt at Poetry Jam poetryjaam.blogspot.com to write about pebbles. (I love pebbles!) It's also inspired by last week's prompt to write about something broken.  I have a hard time letting go of things I love--that have broken--picture frames with a favorite photo, a missing earring from a favorite pair, friendships that for one reason or another ship-wreck.  I don't pursue the friendship once it's gone, but my brain seems to get stuck sometimes trying to sort out what happened...Hope that you're on happier thoughts today and that it's a lovely week :-)

Floating Phrases

Most days
I am a jellyfish
Trailing tentacles
Trying to trap
Tidbits, phrases
That feed my soul
Currents frequently
Curtail
My efforts
Sweeping a tasty verb
Or adjective
Into the depths
And in the Euphotic zone
We live for the light
While
Wishing for
A taste of
Something deeper

This is offered for Poetry Pantry at Poets United poetryblogroll.blogspot.com. This image of a jellyfish capturing words with its tentacles has been rolling around my mind all week.  Feels good to finally release it :-).   The Euphotic zone is the part of the ocean where most of the creatures live, warm and well lit. Like my poetic voice which is usually light, yet intrigued by the darkness...

Be Your Own Starch, or Madlibs In The Treez (An Oulipo)

If a Palo front waves
Will young bucks wave back?
Or just nod at
Wawaskeesh slapping their palominos
On the sandarac
There's a gralloch of tuxilline
In the seal
And weakfish rarely see ita
Spending timid wishing on starch
But its timid to be your own starch
Light your own pathogen through
The trefs
And remember to wave
At palominos on the Wayne
(Evictees need a front)

This is offered for Victoria's prompt at dVersePoets dVersePoets.com to write an Oulipo. You take an existing poem and for every noun you replace it with a noun that is the 7th noun next in the dictionary. I've been writing and nothing has really jelled, so this is a good way to play.  :-). Happy weekend!!

Here's the definitions:

Palo (a town in Iowa)
Wawaskeesh (Indian name)
Sandarac (resin from a North African tree, genus Tetraclinus)
Gralloch (entrails of a dead deer--erk!)
Truxilline (alkaloid in cocoa)
Weakfish (any fish that has a tender mouth in North America)
Ita (a palm tree)
Tref (a hamlet in Britain from the pre-Saxon era)
Wayne ( occupational surname for a cartwright, cart builder)
Evictees (people who have been forced to leave their home)
Palominos (horses with golden colored coat on their bodies and a creamy mane and tail)

A Little Light Poetry

Luna was fully aglow
And roll-
ing in
Pillows of cumulo-
Nimbus
Playing now you
See me
Now you don't
While the sea
Restlessly shook
Her shoulders
Waited
For the light
To drape
Her diamonds
Down her chest
And
Let sparkles
Dance across
Her breast

A little sea poetry for Peggy at poetryjaam.blogspot.com, I had been waiting for the right prompt to use that image of the full moon. She was playing the other night, when I drove home, with the storm clouds. Lighting them up and then disappearing--it looked to me like she was rolling around and having fun 😊 Happy Wednesday!

A Part

Wikipedia. Rodin The Kiss 1889

We're a pair
The fit of fingers
Knuckles, hip, shoulder
Molded for each other
Or maybe it's from
Years of wear, snuggling
Together
Except it's always
Felt like finding my
Matching puzzle piece
Could almost hear the "click"
When my hand slipped into yours
And when you leave there's
Emptiness
In my day, heart, bed
That one kiss goodbye
Is never enough to keep away
Sigh filled skies
So hold me as tightly
As I do you
Both arms, pressed against
My flesh
And carry the memory
The feel of that moment
Until our lips meet again

This is offered for Bill Webb's prompt at Dverse Poets, dVersePoets.com, who challenged us to write real as Rilke wrote to a young poet. “write about what your everyday life offers you; describe your sorrows and desires, the thoughts that pass through your mind and your belief in some kind of beauty Describe all these with heartfelt, silent, humble sincerity and, when you express yourself, use the Things around you, the images from your dreams, and the objects that you remember.” He also suggested that we look at Rodin and I was inspired by the sculpture of The Kiss.  It appears to me, that the woman has a more passionate hold, both arms around his neck.  Though perhaps if the man lifted his back arm, they'd fall over...anyway, my husband's been traveling a lot and so that's my Rilke every day reality.

Be Your Own Star

If a palm frond waves
Will you wave back?
Or just nod at
Waves slapping their palms
On the sand
There's a grain of truth
In the seas
And we rarely see it
Spending time wishing on stars
But its time to be your own star
Light your path through
The trees
And remember to wave
At palms on the way
( Everyone needs a frond...)

This is offered for Sumana's prompt to write about a path at Poetry Jam poetryjaam.blogspot.com, and for Dverse Poets where Victoria asked us to write a poem with patterns, I was playing with homonyms. As you can see from the poem, I was just playing in general... a wordplay that took on a life of it's own.  Happy Friday everyone!! :-)

Un-penned

It is an ordinary
Instrument
Ink and a container
To keep my fingers
From getting blue
(though they still do)
Yet
It holds all dreams
And fears
Just by pressing
Pen to paper
It
Releases my words
To the world
Laying on the table
Or desk
It could be a stick
But in fact
It's filled with magic

This is offered for Peggy's prompt at Poetry Jam poetryjaam.blogspot.com to write about something ordinary.  I write a lot of poetry on my electronic tablet, but I love the flow of pen and paper, scratching things out, rearranging.  It feels like magic.  Happy Weekend!

Don't B Flat

The bluesman wailed under a swaying moon
The Ice Queen sipped the sound
Her tongue was sliced by C Sharp
But no blood was found
Melody flew through her lips
Then was consumed
By the sun
Rays
Of beat
Bounced off the trees
Who boughed and shook
Their shiny leaves
Willow gave a shimmy shake
Left musical leaf notes
In her wake
Breezling fingers flew
Between
Showering
Music that
Tasted green
And that old man
Couldn't stop clapping

This is offered for Claudia's prompt at Dverse Poets dVersepoets.com to write a fantasy story using certain characters--I used Ice Queen, Bluesman and a man who couldn't stop clapping.  This started as a response to Anthony's prompt last week to write a DMT dream type poem, but I was too late to link.  Really enjoyed blending the two. Hope you do too :-)

A Taste of Special

Always a half
Served as he decompressed
From the day
Creamy yellow green flesh
With salt and a lemon squeeze
My sister and I
Little birds
Perched near
Begged for
A bite
With surgical precision
He'd slice a small sliver
And deliver it
Like the rarest of delicacies
To our open mouths
Butter soft and rich
Tang and salt
Combined
Divine
*******
Dawn barely bright
We sat at the speckled
Orange Formica table
Grandpa sipping coffee
Me poised for the moment
His large fingers
Pinched a sugar cube
Like a magician
He held it above steaming
Dark brew
Liquid climbed
Into pure white crystals
Turning them
Toasty brown
At the half way point
He'd pop it in my mouth
A hot crumbled crunch
Sweet so strong it
My teeth complained
But tempered with
Warm roasty coffee...
Perfection

This offered for Poetry Pantry at Poets United poetryblogroll.blogspot.com.  Not sure why these memories were rolling around my head this morning while I washed the dishes.  Guess just the thought of how special we felt to share in the treat--evening avocado with my dad and sugar cube dunked in coffee with my Grandpa--  Anyone else have these types of memories? :-)

There's No Good Time

Touch down, drive

Drag suitcases in

Release dog

And

Gasp

At water waddling down the hall

It impregnated the baseboards

Partied under the floors

Splashed in a self made kiddie pool (utility room)

Too few towels to take him down

So the jaws of unknown damage

Gape and snap in your dreams

That spill into a morning

Nightmare

Baseboards ripped

Drywall slaughtered

Then the incessant drone 

Hulking, loud fan warriors

Blowing death and dryness

At the liquid 

Laughing

In the walls

This is offered up for the very timely prompt by Gabriella, at Poetry Jam poetryjaam.blogspot.com, to write about the unexpected.  Came home 11:30 Wednesday night after a nine day trip to find the water heater had rusted out and flooded the house.  Fortunately, only the hall and bedrooms.  And with all the kids being gone, very little furniture damage. Feeling lucky actually.  Hope everyone else had happier surprises. :-) 

Whirled Peas

I'm waiting for non-
judgment day
Where " I love you"
Is what we say
To
Differences, idiosynch-
Cracies

We'll dance among the
Pleasant-
Trees
Share whirled peas
Sip humani-
Teas

Life could be
So trouble free
If we'd embrace
Our common-
ality
And imagine the
Possibili-
ties

This is offered for Peggy's prompt at Poetry Jam poetryjaam.blogspot.com to write about an impossible place.  With all the violence and anger lately, this seems pretty remote, however, I like to think that with hope all things are possible.  Happy weekend :-)

Stranded Without A Passport

Stranded without a passport
Thirsty for deep blue
But my boat don't have a paddle
So I can't get back to you
If only I'd remembered
While packing my swim trunks
I'd be snorkeling with my baby
'Stead of hanging out with drunks
So pretty please Mister Overnight Courier
Make sure that you deliver
That little document I need
To reach my baby, at full speed
Then I'll be deep in ocean
Never, ever have to be dry
And me and my baby
Won't no more say goodbye

This was written for Alan's prompt about being thirsty at Poetry Jam poetryjaam.blogspot.com, and believe it or not, based on a true story.  Just last weekend...and the title came from our friend's comment after his ordeal.  May you never be stranded without your passport and may your thirst be easily quenched.  Cheers!  Happy 4th everyone! :-)

Virtual Touring the Blogland

Hi!  Something a little different--decided to support some fellow bloggers who I know and enjoy.

The first is one who I have "known" virtually for quite some time--Janet Rice Carnahan a fellow poet and artist--and in this process I have found out so much more!  Anyway, she was kind enough to invite me to the tour:
Here she is by one of my favorite places :-)

Here's her bio:
Janet Rice Carnahan, currently living in Southern California, finds her inspiration in nature’s beauty every chance she gets.  Her poetry has been published online in “Jellyfish Whispers”, “Pryokinection”, “Camel Saloon”, “Three Line Poetry”, and “The Mind{less} Muse”.  Two of Janet’s poems were selected for the anthology, “Storm Cycle: The Best of 2013” through “Kind of a Hurricane Press”.  She also contributed poetry to two other anthologies, “Backlit Barbell” and “Prompted: An International Collection of Poems”, where she also received credit for the cover photo and caption.  On her website, Hear Earth Heart, she has self-published four poetry books, “Shadows in the Sanctuary”, “Into the Inner Path”, “The Cosmic Highway” and “Hear Earth Heart, a series of haikus”.

and here's her blog:  http://www.hearearthheart.com/blog  she has had an amazing journey and her poems are absolutely wonderful--so please stop by for a visit--you will be glad you did :-)

Part of the process is that I have to answer some questions--I'm feeling a little slumber-partyish about this...

1. What am I currently working on?  
Currently, I'm working on trying to write one poem a week, and visit as many of my fellow poets as possible. I'm also working on my tan, my balance and becoming more graceful in yoga. And breathing as much sea air as possible. 2. How does my work differ from others of its genre?
Honestly, I see a lot of similarities in many poets and my work. I am free form, and mostly light. My goal is to try and tickle a smile out of my readers, usually. Sometimes the darkness comes and you just have to go with it. Life is like that. 3. Why do I write/create what I do?
Simply, because my head will explode if I avoid the creative voices in my head/heart/feet for too long. I have to release it. Thankfully there are many other creatives in this world/blogosphere who share their talent with me (inspire, delight me) and are generous with their support for my writing as well. 4 How does your writing/creating process work? I'm really enjoying prompts from Poetry Jam poetryjaam.blogspot.com; and dversepoets.com, and Poets United poetryblogroll.blogspot.com; however, most of my inspiration hits when doing something mundane, like washing dishes, driving, walking the dogs or extraordinary like hiking in the Sierras, Southwest, or splashing in the sea :-)

And now, for the really fun part!  Here's a new amazing and very creative poet/songwriter to check out :-)

 Susan Schoeffield!

• Bio:
• Born, raised and living in Baltimore, MD, Susan’s interest in playing with words began in the 60’s when her ten-year old brain realized her favorite band wrote their own songs. Fascinated by the concept, she started writing her own lyrics. In 2009, she began to focus on her writing in earnest. Over the last several years, she has self-published a mystery novel, a collection of poetry, a haiku collection and a children’s book. She is owned by two cats, a black Labrador and serves at the pleasure of a Basset Hound.

  
  

  
  
• 6/24, 12:47pm

  For a real treat, run over and visit with Susan at:  

  http://wordswithsooze.com

  
  

  Happy Touring!

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

Shifting Tides

The love tide shifts
In her heart
Sadness draws
The liquid down
Only to be replenished by

~Teardrops skating on a moonbeam~

Gleam in his eyes
Victory was bitter
Tired of lessons repeated
Now armed with love
He reaches across the divide

This is offered for Laurie's prompt at Poetry Jam poetryjaam.blogspot.com to write about a bridge, using the Puente form of poetry.  The 1st and 3rd stanzas are supposed to be different thoughts, I went more with different views...look forward to crossing more bridges tonight :-)

Enjoy the Glow

I'm having a sit in
Truth-
fully
A sit out-
side
Watch-
ing
Moon
Ride its orbital string
Above me
And enjoy the mystery
To see if clouds
Spin gossamer glow
Just so
Or if it will be
Just me
The moon and inky
Sky
A cricket or two
Sawing serrated wings
To woo
Just like me
And you
Let's be round
Glide slow
And enjoy the glow

This is offered for Alan's lovely prompt at poetryjaam.blogspot. com to write about the moon and for Susan at Poets United poetryblogroll.blogspot.com who asked for a public protest. I stretched that a bit, but I do protest the speed of life. Need to take time and enjoy the glow :-)

Maya-be

Maybe
Age should not be measured in
Years, instead let's measure
Amounts of

Altruism
Never giving up
Giggles
Enthusiasm
Love
Open Armed Hugs and
Understanding


This is offered for Peggy's prompt at Poetry Jam poetryjaam.blogspot.com about age, and also a for Poets United poetryblogroll.blogspot.com, where Rosemary honored Maya--a little acrostic for Maya who was one for the ages, and who gave us all a shining example of what happens when (in her words) we encounter many defeats but are not defeated.  

Floral Floatillas

Creamy cups of
Petals poised on
Sepal pedestals
Ready to leave
Disem-
bark
From glossy green
Perches
On a windy whim
To sail
Southwesterly
Into a sea of grass

This is offered for OLN at dversepoets.com where Abhra has us writing about trees--I have tried for years to poetically capture this phenomenon--the Pond Apple trees that line the canals here, have lovely chinese lantern type blossoms (thank you to Serenity Spell at serenityspell.com for a great photo) that just drop from the trees into the canals, that flow to the Everglades (otherwise known as the sea of grass...)  finally came to me today, to cast them as ships...enjoy! :-)

Super Sighs Me

Splash some
Gold-
en
Glitter on me
And sea
Let tanger-
ine streak
And lavender play
Lay-
ers
Between a nimble cumulus
And horiz-
on
Fill sun
With de-
light
Expand to
Full width and height
Bright
Yellow balloon
On fire
In-
spire
Swell and exhale
'Cuz as you know

In this show
Sighs
Matter

Offered for Alan's prompt at poetryjaam.blogspot.com, to write about sunsets. One of my very favorite things!  Hope to add a photo later.  Happy Sunsets everyone :-)

Scorched

Words scorched
With hatred
Whip through her
Soul
Slicing her sense
Of strength, self
Her mouth
Full
Of cruel dust
Her heart
Flattened
A scarlet scarf
Adrift
In rib
-bons
Then finally
Flayed
By a parting
Shot
Skeletal
She staggers
Garners
Her last grain
Of confidence
To kick
Sand in the face
Of her
Attacker

This is offered for Poetryjaam.blogspot.com  where Peggy asks us to pen a poem about deserts.  What can I say? It was a rough week...And now it's better :-)  Happy Friday!

Tastes Like Possibilities

It's a high-sky fly ball
Of silver glow
With a grin
Cloaked in
Midnight
Blue
A hue
Of aura too
Bend and
Extend
Consciousness
Into that blue-blue
Abyss
The twinkle-wonder
Of it
Tastes like
In-
finite
Possibilities

This is for Poetry Jam poetryjaam.blogspot.com where Brian gave us a curve, a slow pitch, but no spit ball to write about baseball, possibilities...also Bjorn had dversepoets.com writing using Kennings (short word combos)--I was too late for the party, but loved the concept, so I threw in a few of my own.  Happy Weekend!!

Wings of Time

Time flies like the wind and fruit flies like bananas~Groucho Marx

Voy-
aged
Boy-
aged
A breath, a beat
A bundle snuggled
In my seat
Flying to Sacto.
A breath, a beat
A man's in that seat
Flying to Colorado
Seeking fun and snow
(Girlfriend also)
Insides fluttering
Heartbeat staccato
Till text beep
"Landed in Colorado"
A breath, a beat
And
In a blink
My boy's not a kid
And yet
I haven't aged a bit
(wink)

This is offered. for Poetry Jam poetryjaam.blogspot.com where Mary asks us to write about time, and Poetic Asides where Robert asks us to write about voyages.  My oldest son just took vacation with his girlfriend and my emotions completely surprised me by getting all unsettled and fearful.  Not like me, but as my mom said...it's those mom bonds.  Just received an adorable selfie with two rosy cheeked joyful faces next to a snowman.  Feeling happy :-)  Happy Weekend!

Lessons from a Green Canoe

Glossy green, teak trimmed

Suspended, out of reach

Taunting me

With river journey dreams

In a yard sale, sold

Too young to

Voice objection

Old Town

Maybe if they'd

Let me paddle you

I'd have learned 

To go with the flow

Navi-

gate

Hard-

ships 

Steer clear

Of relation-

ship rocks

Eddies, Rons, and Marks

Would have been left

Treading water

Not treading 

On my heart

If Dad had let me sit

On your sturdy wooden seats

Grip a paddle 

Tip side to side

Find my balance

And glide

Maybe I'd have learned

To better not bitter chart

My course

So long ago

I'll never know

Now I have to let it go

Offered for the prompt to let go, from Laurie at Poetry Jam, poetryjaam.blogspot.com.  Before kids, my parents canoed a lot in a beautiful green "Old Town" canoe.  I was always fascinated by it hanging in the garage. And then it was sold when I was about 9 years old.

About 10 years ago we spent several spring breaks canoeing with friends. I always wished that my parents had kept their canoe, so that we could have used it.  Funny how these things stick with you...time to let it go :-)

Who Knew?

They live
Plain-
ly
A burrow
Where it's grassy
(soccer fields, cause
they're sassy)
Decorated with dung
Ensures beetles
For their young
Small in body
Long legs scurry
In Brazil, prospering
With deforestation
But suffering
Here from human
Incursion
Seeing them in parks
Is such treat
So long as they stay
Clear of cleated feet

This is offered for the prompt by Alan at Poetry Jam poetryjaam.blogspot.com, who asked us to write about owls.  I think he had something more majestic in mind, but these little burrowing owls have captivated me since I first saw them at my son's soccer field. Photo credit to Wikipedia. Enjoy! :-)

Uncorked

The fizz
The bliss
I find in
This
From the sparkly
Stream
To the golden
Gleam
Pour me a flute
And two for my friends
Cheers!
Here's
To joy
That never
Ends

A toast to Peggy at Poetry Jam poetryjaam.blogspot.com who prompted us to write about bottles.  I love champagne, always a happy drink, and one meant to be shared.  So cheers!  :-)

Morning Train

On a bough of fir
Sleepy atoms cuddled together
Linked like train cars
Sun shine lights, excites
Sending atoms stretch-
ing
Fling winged things
Black shapes coracoid
Clouds scatter avoid
Beakish Pierc-
ings
Sun pushes on horizon
Lifts belly--golden
And raises rays
Dew grasps grass
Tries to last
Instead becomes gas
'Ol Sol laughs
While atoms climb together
Aboard the Skyliner

This is in response to Mary's prompt at Poetry Jam poetryjaam.blogspot.com, to write about trains.  And, Creative Bloomings where Sara McNulty challenged us to write a poem with personification.  Coracoid is crow/beak shaped and the Skyliner is a train in Japan that goes between Tokoyo and the airport (seemed fitting...)  Inspired, as many poems are, by my morning walks with the dogs--walking by a stand of conifers it really looked like the trees had just flung the birds into the air...

When Three's Not The Charm

Bored
Stiff
As a
Board
Joy-
Less
Miss-
ing
Bliss
That mane of flame
No one could tame
Now shorn
Con-
form-
ity
Isn't golden
Did you forget
Sam-
son?
Long for
That grin
Lost in
The slushy
Bottom

Offered for Laurie's prompt at Poetry Jam poetryjaam.blogspot.com to write an olympian poem in 28 lines or less. Heartbreaking the threes in snowboarding--Lindsay third try, so far ahead in women's second semifinals and falls; Shaun always so brilliantly glowing, now shorn and sad--everyone talking about the slushy bottom in the half pipe...ah life, you just never know....at least the couples won in ice-skating :-)

Well Tuned

It flows through
Dew
Drops on spider webs
And pings a string
"Oh What A Beautiful
Morning"
Steam from coffee
Swirls to "Proud Mary"
Furry tails swing
While I sing "Happy"
His good bye kiss
Tastes like "Something"
The car wheels
Thumping
On the street
"Eight Days a Week"
Lift your hands up
Life's a song
Clap, dance, sing
Or hum along

This is offered for  Gabriella's prompt at Poetry Jam poetryjaam.blogspot.com to write a tribute, started out as a tribute to music which is my constant whether actually playing or just from the jukebox in my brain, but may have ended up as a tribute to life or joy...you can pick. And for the prompt by Gay at dversepoets.com to write a song, a bit of serendipity there  :-)  Enjoy!   

Southern Living

Fresh mowed lawn morn-
ings
Greet me
While clouds that slept there
Wet shoes and paws
Egrets mingle in weeds
Playing peek-a-boo with minnows
And white wavy pond reflect-
ions
Sunset sweetened cloudbanks
Embrace a yellow gumball sun
Melting into ebony copper-coated seas
Lily scented evenings
Show Orion pointing the way
While Betelgeuse blinks red
Pondering destruction
I sleep under a sheet of love
Encircled in the heaviness of
Familiar loving arms
With a toasty bundle of fur
Snuggled against my knee

This is offered for the Prompt by Peggy to write about where we live at poetryjaam.blogspot.com  I live in South Florida, where orchids bloom in the winter...it is wonderful to be able to share with people everywhere.  :-)

Mandy

He was a teddy bear man
(at least in my mind)
Loved great writing and
Intellectual pursuits,
Conversation
Passionate about his
Beliefs and
Loved his parents
Easily accessed
The child in him
Could sit to play
With his nephews
As one of them
Not like a grown up
Feining interest
Was there every Christmas
Then,
Lost touch
For no good reason
Didn't even know
He wrote poetry
And now
He's gone

Written for OLN at dversepoets.com  dealing with the passing of a relative (three years younger than me) we used to know well, and then lost touch--we kept inviting, he didn't come, then we stopped inviting.  Just got a call that he passed away on Saturday.  And his cousins are the only living relatives, feeling sad and empty.

Brrrring It

The cold
Does not
Embold-
en
Her
Grin's
Ice thin
'Cuz she's
Shiver-
ing
Bring her
A blanket
A jacket
A heater
But whatever
You do
Don't refrigerate
Her

A empathic wordplay for Laurie's prompt  at Poetry Jam poetryjaam.blogspot.com to write about a refrigerator. I've spent the past week in 32 degree weather which is not my happy place.  Looking very forward to heading south tomorrow.  Warm wishes to everyone! :-)

Friendly Fire

We are not so
Different
You and I
Releasing carbon
Oxygen consuming
Sparking when
Prodded or stirred
So come sit a spell
Tell
Me smokey secrets
While I feed you
Dry, tasty wood chips
And we'll share
Heat, light
Heart and
Toast to
Togetherness

A warming trend shared with Poetry Jam poetryjam.blogspot.com for Alan's wonderful prompt(romp?) to write about fire.  I've always loved it--campfires, fireplaces--loads of happy toasty memories :-)  Happy New Year everyone, hope that it is filled with bliss, health, and love.