tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28046042044346342982024-03-13T22:48:43.676-04:00Cracker Jack PoetA poetic snack--short, usually sweet, nutty, with a surprise insideSaravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.comBlogger186125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-23458439798913779072017-01-13T16:12:00.001-05:002017-01-13T16:12:07.342-05:00Make Mine Bologna<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr">
I'm in the "In" group now<br />
Sandwiched between <br />
Both sets of eighty plus<br />
Parents<br />
Instability, LifeAlerts<br />
Nurses, insurance<br />
ER, ICU, PT, ALF<br />
The new vocabulary words<br />
Of accidents, aging<br />
And unhappiness<br />
We see <br />
The mind giving up<br />
On memory<br />
Good judgment<br />
While we stand</div>
<div dir="ltr">
Helpless<br />
To stop the process<br />
We watch with<br />
The Fates as<br />
The thread stretches<br />
Straining to hear<br />
The snap<br />
I'm in the "In" group<br />
Except I really want<br />
Out</div>
</div>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-17704812108640054732015-10-05T07:45:00.001-04:002015-10-05T07:45:15.264-04:00Body of Evidence<p dir="ltr">Time does not believe<br>
In beauty or<br>
Dignity<br>
Make no bones about<br>
It<br>
In the end<br>
We are only<br>
Spirit and skin<br>
Quit sucking <br>
Your belly<br>
In<br>
Bounce<br>
Be momentous<br>
And<br>
Live in the light<br>
Fate waits <br>
To tip<br>
Our toes<br>
Into night<br>
Where we're<br>
Left to waltz<br>
Solo<br>
On our imagination's<br>
Dance floor</p>
<p dir="ltr">This is offered for Poetry Pantry at poetryblogroll.blogspot.com--this week my mom fell and fractured her thigh bone, and while I was waiting to board a plane to see her, my husband texted me that he was at the hospital. His father had a stroke, and couldn't speak. You never know what curves in the road are coming. And it makes me realize how much we have to enjoy the moment.</p>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-18294765851663195762015-04-15T20:29:00.001-04:002015-04-20T08:45:27.265-04:00Real-lize<p dir="ltr">It's time<br>
To come clean<br>
Rinse off<br>
The dirty secrets<br>
Of my life....<br>
Optimism can only<br>
Carry me so far<br>
There are ugly<br>
Bad days<br>
I have said<br>
Many hurtful things<br>
(And meant some of them)<br>
Then sat in the yard<br>
Like a wild orphan<br>
Crying into my dog's<br>
Scruff<br>
It was me that<br>
Ate half the cookie dough<br>
There are days<br>
I want to give<br>
Up<br>
On the world<br>
I have backfisted a <br>
Drunk<br>
And got drunk in <br>
A treehouse<br>
Yoga saved my sanity<br>
I like talking to<br>
Horses<br>
I use canned beans<br>
To make black beans<br>
(A sin in Cuban culture)<br>
My cuticles are torn<br>
I can't watch<br>
Scary movies<br>
Optimism can only<br>
Carry me so far<br>
But love has no<br>
Mileage <u>limit</u></p>
<p dir="ltr">This is offered for the final prompt (sniffle) at Poetry Jam poetryjaam.blogspot.com.  Mary has decided it's time to move on and I understand, yet PJ is one of my favorite places. Love to Mary, Peggy and everyone who has made it such a loving community.  This is also offered for the prompt at Robert Lee Brewer's PAD, to write a poem about confessions.  <br><br><br></p>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-53972332171959445152015-03-01T09:53:00.001-05:002015-03-01T09:55:27.167-05:00A Gust Of Imagination<p dir="ltr">The wind<br>
Makes paper airplanes<br>
Without following a pattern<br>
And teaches dance <br>
To the daisies<br>
Without playing a note<br>
Sails flotillas of<br>
Leaves without<br>
Passing out paddles<br>
And for an encore<br>
Flutters an autumn leaf<br>
Into a butterfy<br>
When I walked by</p>
<p dir="ltr">This is for Poetry Pantry at Poets United poetryblogroll.blogspot.com.  I did see a red orange leaf, web-tethered to a chain link fence, flutter and thought it was a butterfly...enjoy :-)</p>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-63208306165124906232015-01-28T21:45:00.001-05:002015-01-28T21:45:01.545-05:00Hair of the Dog<p dir="ltr">When you have a Husky<br>
There's no way round<br>
The volume of hair<br>
That will surround<br>
You <br>
Tumbleweeds<br>
Flow constantly<br>
My floor becomes <br>
A hairy sea<br>
Hair in my clothes<br>
Hair in my soup<br>
I've no doubt <br>
That hair's<br>
In our poop<br>
Yet at<br>
Day's end<br>
Who always greets<br>
Me?<br>
My smiling, wagging<br>
Hairy Husky</p>
<p dir="ltr">This is offered up for Anthony's prompt to write about hair, at Dverse Poets dversepoets.com--This is our second Husky (mix--rescue) and we swore we wouldn't get another (Ha!) He definitely picked us, and it has been true love ever since.  Though the hair does get a bit overwhelming at times... ;-)</p>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-26874459631360054612015-01-07T18:24:00.001-05:002015-01-08T14:41:25.423-05:00Breaking Dawn<p dir="ltr">Why does dawn<br>
Always bring a break?<br>
Night's ebony shell cracks<br>
Releasing rays of light<br>
Dashing<br>
A delicious dream<br>
Breaking the fast<br>
Be slow to<br>
Say goodbye<br>
Hear the heartstrings<br>
Stretch with<br>
The thump of a trunk<br>
There's no looking <u>back</u><br>
While the car<br>
Waddles over<br>
Gravel and is<br>
Gone in <br>
The blink, blink, blink<br>
Of a tailight</p>
<p dir="ltr">This is offered for Alan's prompt at Poetry Jam poetryjaam.blogspot. com, to pick a word for this New Year and write about it. For some reason "dawn" has been in my mind and the poems that I've been writing, lately. Perhaps a subconscious push at new beginnings, or maybe just rosy skies. The last lines have been hanging around in head ever since I saw an early morning farewell, on one of my many dog walks, it was nice to finally find them a home :-) Happy New Year everyone!!</p>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-34854148156642438642014-11-05T16:32:00.001-05:002014-11-05T16:32:57.444-05:00A Pebble for Your Thoughts<p dir="ltr">It drops<br>
A pebble thought<br>
Spinning circles through<br>
This fractured heart<br>
Some pieces cannot<br>
Be pushed together<br>
Magnetic poles in<br>
Opposition pushing<br>
Away the tethers<br>
That used to bind<br>
Yet my mind<br>
Stubbornly tries<br>
To find<br>
Where the pieces<br>
Might fit<br>
Wonders why<br>
The shapes changed<br>
Won't accept that<br>
Some things<br>
Can't be explained<br>
And the pebbles<br>
Keep falling<br>
Like the <u>rain</u></p>
<p dir="ltr">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 :-)</p>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-77063011939617913552014-10-04T14:37:00.001-04:002014-10-05T12:07:12.960-04:00Floating Phrases<p dir="ltr">Most days<br>
I am a jellyfish<br>
Trailing tentacles<br>
Trying to trap<br>
Tidbits, phrases<br>
That feed my soul<br>
Currents frequently<br>
Curtail<br>
My efforts <br>
Sweeping a tasty verb<br>
Or adjective <br>
Into the depths<br>
And in the Euphotic zone<br>
We live for the light<br>
While<br>
Wishing for<br>
A taste of<br>
Something deeper<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">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...</p>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-64213740798023681432014-10-04T09:16:00.000-04:002014-10-04T09:16:10.969-04:00Be Your Own Starch, or Madlibs In The Treez (An Oulipo)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
If a Palo front waves<br />
Will young bucks wave back?<br />
Or just nod at<br />
Wawaskeesh slapping their palominos<br />
On the sandarac<br />
There's a gralloch of tuxilline<br />
In the seal<br />
And weakfish rarely see ita<br />
Spending timid wishing on starch<br />
But its timid to be your own starch<br />
Light your own pathogen through<br />
The trefs<br />
And remember to wave<br />
At palominos on the Wayne<br />
(Evictees need a front)<br />
<br />
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!!<br />
<br />
Here's the definitions:<br />
<br />
Palo (a town in Iowa)<br />
Wawaskeesh (Indian name)<br />
Sandarac (resin from a North African tree, genus Tetraclinus)<br />
Gralloch (entrails of a dead deer--erk!)<br />
Truxilline (alkaloid in cocoa)<br />
Weakfish (any fish that has a tender mouth in North America)<br />
Ita (a palm tree)<br />
Tref (a hamlet in Britain from the pre-Saxon era)<br />
Wayne ( occupational surname for a cartwright, cart builder)<br />
Evictees (people who have been forced to leave their home)<br />
Palominos (horses with golden colored coat on their bodies and a creamy mane and tail)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-66471190652813182522014-09-10T17:52:00.001-04:002014-09-10T17:52:44.235-04:00A Little Light Poetry<p dir="ltr"><u>Luna</u> was fully aglow<br>
And roll-<br>
ing in<br>
Pillows of cumulo-<br>
Nimbus<br>
Playing now you<br>
See me<br>
Now you don't<br>
While the sea<br>
Restlessly shook<br>
Her shoulders<br>
Waited<br>
For the light<br>
To drape<br>
Her diamonds<br>
Down her chest<br>
And <br>
Let sparkles<br>
Dance across <br>
Her breast</p>
<p dir="ltr">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!</p>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-16811465869129819412014-09-05T15:13:00.001-04:002014-09-05T15:57:30.211-04:00A Part<p dir="ltr"><br></p><p dir="ltr"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-_ts4DjHUEqU/VAoUJwweo7I/AAAAAAAAMSM/3t7MI14qc4o/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: sans-serif; text-align: center; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-_ts4DjHUEqU/VAoUJwweo7I/AAAAAAAAMSM/3t7MI14qc4o/s400/images.jpg"></a><br></p><p dir="ltr">Wikipedia. Rodin The Kiss 1889</p><p dir="ltr"><br></p><p dir="ltr">We're a pair<br>
The fit of fingers<br>
Knuckles, hip, shoulder<br>
Molded for each other<br>
Or maybe it's from<br>
Years of wear, snuggling<br>
Together<br>
Except it's always<br>
Felt like finding my<br>
Matching puzzle piece<br>
Could almost hear the "click"<br>
When my hand slipped into yours<br>
And when you leave there's<br>
Emptiness<br>
In my day, heart, bed<br>
That one kiss goodbye<br>
Is never enough to keep away<br>
Sigh filled skies<br>
So hold me as tightly<br>
As I do you<br>
Both arms, pressed against<br>
My flesh<br>
And carry the memory<br>
The feel of that moment<br>
Until our lips meet again </p>
<p dir="ltr">This is offered for Bill Webb's prompt at Dverse Poets, dVersePoets.com, who challenged us to write real as Rilke wrote to a <u>young</u> poet. <span style="color: rgb(161, 144, 144); font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; background-color: rgb(12, 8, 8);">“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.”</span> 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. </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div>Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-14684342550660222902014-08-22T15:19:00.001-04:002014-08-22T15:28:02.851-04:00Be Your Own Star<p dir="ltr">If a palm frond waves<br>
Will you wave back?<br>
Or just nod at<br>
Waves slapping their palms<br>
On the sand<br>
There's a grain of truth<br>
In the seas<br>
And we rarely see it<br>
Spending time wishing on stars<br>
But its time to be your own star<br>
Light your path through<br>
The trees<br>
And remember to wave<br>
At palms on the way<br>
( Everyone needs a frond...)</p>
<p dir="ltr">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!! :-) </p>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com41tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-10147273152581135262014-08-01T16:08:00.001-04:002014-08-01T16:08:00.769-04:00Un-penned<p dir="ltr">It is an ordinary<br>
Instrument<br>
Ink and a container<br>
To keep my fingers<br>
From getting blue<br>
(though they still do)<br>
Yet<br>
It holds all dreams<br>
And fears <br>
Just by pressing<br>
Pen to paper<br>
It<br>
Releases my words <br>
To the world<br>
Laying on the table<br>
Or desk<br>
It could be a stick<br>
But in fact<br>
It's filled with magic</p>
<p dir="ltr">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!</p>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-88105928566073473292014-08-01T15:46:00.001-04:002014-08-05T19:55:42.873-04:00Don't B Flat<p dir="ltr">The bluesman wailed under a swaying moon<br>
The Ice Queen sipped the sound<br>
Her tongue was sliced by C Sharp<br>
But no blood was found<br>
Melody flew through her lips<br>
Then was consumed <br>
By the sun<br>
Rays<br>
Of beat<br>
Bounced off the trees<br>
Who boughed and shook<br>
Their shiny leaves<br>
Willow gave a shimmy shake<br>
Left musical leaf notes<br>
In her wake<br>
Breezling fingers flew <br>
Between<br>
Showering<br>
Music that<br>
Tasted green<br>
And that old man<br>
Couldn't stop clapping</p>
<p dir="ltr">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 :-) </p>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-20247797200966122992014-07-27T17:05:00.001-04:002014-07-27T17:10:09.648-04:00A Taste of Special<p dir="ltr">Always a half<br>
Served as he decompressed<br>
From the day<br>
Creamy yellow green flesh<br>
With salt and a lemon squeeze<br>
My sister and I <br>
Little birds <br>
Perched near<br>
Begged for<br>
A bite<br>
With surgical precision<br>
He'd slice a small sliver<br>
And deliver it<br>
Like the rarest of delicacies<br>
To our open mouths<br>
Butter soft and rich<br>
Tang and salt<br>
Combined<br>
Divine<br>
*******<br>
Dawn barely bright<br>
We sat at the speckled<br>
Orange Formica table<br>
Grandpa sipping coffee<br>
Me poised for the moment<br>
His large fingers<br>
Pinched a sugar cube<br>
Like a magician<br>
He held it above steaming<br>
Dark brew<br>
Liquid climbed<br>
Into pure white crystals <br>
Turning them<br>
Toasty brown<br>
At the half way point<br>
He'd pop it in my mouth<br>
A hot crumbled crunch<br>
Sweet so strong it <br>
My teeth complained<br>
But tempered with<br>
Warm roasty coffee...<br>
Perfection</p>
<p dir="ltr">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? :-) </p>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-17346519325234876312014-07-17T18:44:00.001-04:002014-07-17T18:58:39.968-04:00There's No Good Time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Touch down, drive</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Drag suitcases in</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Release dog</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">And</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Gasp</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">At water waddling down the hall</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">It impregnated the baseboards</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Partied under the floors</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Splashed in a self made kiddie pool (utility room)</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Too few towels to take him down</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">So the jaws of unknown damage</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Gape and snap in your dreams</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">That spill into a morning</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Nightmare</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Baseboards ripped</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Drywall slaughtered</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Then the incessant drone </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Hulking, loud fan warriors</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Blowing death and dryness</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">At the liquid </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Laughing</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">In the walls</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">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. :-) </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br></div>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-35423445774380772522014-07-11T13:09:00.001-04:002014-07-11T13:09:23.213-04:00Whirled Peas<p dir="ltr">I'm waiting for non-<br>
judgment day<br>
Where " I love you"<br>
Is what we say<br>
To<br>
Differences, idiosynch-<br>
Cracies</p>
<p dir="ltr">We'll dance among the<br>
Pleasant-<br>
Trees<br>
Share whirled peas<br>
Sip humani-<br>
Teas</p>
<p dir="ltr">Life could be<br>
So trouble free<br>
If we'd embrace<br>
Our common-<br>
ality<br>
And imagine the <br>
Possibili-<br>
ties</p>
<p dir="ltr">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 :-) <br></p>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-51324701569093879952014-07-02T21:56:00.001-04:002014-07-02T22:30:59.061-04:00Stranded Without A Passport<p dir="ltr">Stranded without a passport<br>
Thirsty for deep blue<br>
But my boat don't have a paddle<br>
So I can't get back to you<br>
If only I'd remembered<br>
While packing my swim trunks<br>
I'd be snorkeling with my baby<br>
'Stead of hanging out with drunks<br>
So pretty please Mister Overnight Courier<br>
Make sure that you deliver<br>
That little document I need<br>
To reach my baby, at full speed<br>
Then I'll be deep in ocean<br>
Never, ever have <u>to</u> be dry<br>
And me and my baby<br>
Won't no more say goodbye</p>
<p dir="ltr">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! :-)</p>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com38tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-4755610693190433042014-06-30T21:39:00.000-04:002014-07-01T08:15:40.537-04:00Virtual Touring the Blogland<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hi! Something a little different--decided to support some fellow bloggers who I know and enjoy.<br>
<br>
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:<br>
Here she is by one of my favorite places :-)<br>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W4cMNlF6HnU/U6hpn-BZBUI/AAAAAAAA5MM/6uAnl-CXpyE/s1600/Virtual+blog+photo+%25231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W4cMNlF6HnU/U6hpn-BZBUI/AAAAAAAA5MM/6uAnl-CXpyE/s320/Virtual+blog+photo+%25231.jpg" height="273" width="320"></a></div>
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="color: #0f243e;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br></span></span></i>
Here's her bio:<br>
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="color: #0f243e;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">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”.</span></span></i><br>
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and here's her blog: <a href="http://www.hearearthheart.com/blog">http://www.hearearthheart.com/blog</a> 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 :-)<br>
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Part of the process is that I have to answer some questions--I'm feeling a little slumber-partyish about this...<br>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">1. What am I currently working on? </span><br>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: blue;">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.</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
2. How does my work differ from others of its genre?</span><br>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: blue;">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.</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
3. Why do I write/create what I do?</span><br>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: blue;">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.</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
4 How does your writing/creating process work?
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: blue;">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 :-)</span></span><br>
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And now, for the really fun part! Here's a new amazing and very creative poet/songwriter to check out :-)<br>
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Susan Schoeffield!<br>
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<span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.38; white-space: pre-wrap;">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.</span></div>
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<a aria-label="Sent from chat" class="mrs _9k" data-hover="tooltip" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=2804604204434634298" role="button" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: default; display: inline-block; margin-right: 5px; vertical-align: middle;"><img alt="" class="img _9h" height="1" src="https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/y4/r/-PAXP-deijE.gif" style="background-image: url(https://fbstatic-a.akamaihd.net/rsrc.php/v2/yK/r/q6EkjImnA-O.png); background-position: -116px -381px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; background-size: auto; border: 0px; display: inline-block; height: 13px; vertical-align: middle; width: 9px;" width="1"></a><a class="_b9" data-hovercard-instant="1" data-hovercard-offset-x="-18" href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=2804604204434634298" role="button" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: default;"><abbr class="_35 timestamp" data-utime="1403628461.963" style="border-bottom-style: none; color: #bfbfbf; display: inline-block; vertical-align: middle;" title="Tuesday">6/24, 12:47pm</abbr></a></div>
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<b><i>For a real treat, run over and visit with Susan at: </i></b></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><a class="_553k" href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwordswithsooze.com%2F&h=FAQHI_UlL" rel="nofollow" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; line-height: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">http://wordswithsooze.com</a></div>
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Happy Touring!</div>
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Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-15150501073203809192014-06-18T19:47:00.001-04:002014-06-18T19:47:59.999-04:00Shifting Tides<p dir="ltr">The love tide shifts<br>
In her heart<br>
Sadness draws<br>
The liquid down<br>
Only to be replenished by</p>
<p dir="ltr">~Teardrops skating on a moonbeam~</p>
<p dir="ltr">Gleam in his eyes<br>
Victory was bitter<br>
Tired of lessons repeated<br>
Now armed with love<br>
He reaches across the divide</p>
<p dir="ltr">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 :-)<br>
</p>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-7849874562882158722014-06-04T21:14:00.001-04:002014-06-04T21:19:32.357-04:00Enjoy the Glow<p dir="ltr">I'm having a sit in<br>
Truth-<br>
fully<br>
A sit out-<br>
side<br>
Watch-<br>
ing <br>
Moon<br>
Ride its orbital string<br>
Above me<br>
And enjoy the mystery<br>
To see if clouds <br>
Spin gossamer glow<br>
Just so<br>
Or if it will be<br>
Just me<br>
The moon and inky<br>
Sky<br>
A cricket or two<br>
Sawing serrated wings<br>
To woo<br>
Just like me<br>
And you<br>
Let's be round<br>
Glide slow<br>
And enjoy the glow</p>
<p dir="ltr">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 :-)</p>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-756834372963023032014-05-30T16:51:00.000-04:002014-05-30T16:51:43.394-04:00Maya-be<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>M</b>aybe<br />
<b>A</b>ge should not be measured in<br />
<b>Y</b>ears, instead let's measure<br />
<b>A</b>mounts of<br />
<br />
<b>A</b>ltruism<br />
<b>N</b>ever giving up<br />
<b>G</b>iggles<br />
<b>E</b>nthusiasm<br />
<b>L</b>ove<br />
<b>O</b>pen Armed Hugs and<br />
<b>U</b>nderstanding<br />
<br />
<br />
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. </div>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-35405845633641456152014-05-06T16:35:00.001-04:002014-05-06T16:35:56.465-04:00Floral Floatillas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q-0Gz4TWhPo/U2lGtGXULtI/AAAAAAAALLM/zbv4pHkwN4E/s1600/pond+apple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q-0Gz4TWhPo/U2lGtGXULtI/AAAAAAAALLM/zbv4pHkwN4E/s1600/pond+apple.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Creamy cups of<br />
Petals poised on<br />
Sepal pedestals<br />
Ready to leave<br />
Disem-<br />
bark<br />
From glossy green<br />
Perches<br />
On a windy whim<br />
To sail<br />
Southwesterly<br />
Into a sea of grass<br />
<br />
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! :-)</div>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-14075030780123161372014-05-02T14:46:00.000-04:002014-05-02T14:46:21.805-04:00Super Sighs Me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1Co1Pesl3QM/U2Pn8pdGjTI/AAAAAAAALKw/DjtvgYLSZ6g/s1600/Sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1Co1Pesl3QM/U2Pn8pdGjTI/AAAAAAAALKw/DjtvgYLSZ6g/s1600/Sunset.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Splash some<br />
Gold-<br />
en<br />
Glitter on me<br />
And sea<br />
Let tanger-<br />
ine streak<br />
And lavender play<br />
Lay-<br />
ers<br />
Between a nimble cumulus<br />
And horiz-<br />
on<br />
Fill sun<br />
With de-<br />
light<br />
Expand to<br />
Full width and height<br />
Bright<br />
Yellow balloon<br />
On fire<br />
In-<br />
spire<br />
Swell and exhale<br />
'Cuz as you know<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In this show<br />
Sighs<br />
Matter</div>
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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 :-)</div>
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Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2804604204434634298.post-91064677968620630742014-04-25T11:29:00.001-04:002014-04-25T11:43:26.992-04:00Scorched<p dir="ltr">Words scorched<br>
With hatred<br>
Whip through her<br>
Soul<br>
Slicing her sense<br>
Of strength, self<br>
Her mouth<br>
Full <br>
Of cruel dust<br>
Her heart<br>
Flattened<br>
A scarlet scarf<br>
Adrift<br>
In rib<br>
-bons<br>
Then finally<br>
Flayed<br>
By a parting<br>
Shot<br>
Skeletal <br>
She staggers<br>
Garners<br>
Her last grain<br>
Of confidence<br>
To kick<br>
Sand in the face<br>
Of her<br>
Attacker</p>
<p dir="ltr">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!</p>
Saravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10289212188617046645noreply@blogger.com21