sharing a poetic LIFELINE with the world

I wrote this poem in response to this painting by Winslow Homer, part of Challenge #5 on Create, Share, Encourage, a G+ community.

A Summer Night

Summer Night

My bare feet touch the sandy boardwalk.
You are still wearing your shoes.

We dance, you insist on leading,
hand at my waist.

I hold on to your shoulder, the better dancer,
more experienced, at this.

The other women look out to sea,
as the lights bounce off the waves.

We can hear the music from the band,
far out of frame, off the canvas,
unpainted, but not unheard.

This summer night,
will it ever end?

I let you go, finally.

You are not my boyfriend.
I am not your husband.

Dance alone, darling one.
Dance alone now.

“UFOs”

UFOs

They call them UFOs,
unfinished objects.

Is there anything sadder
than projects left half-done?

Maybe its projects planned, not started?
The kits still enclosed in plastic,
paints unopened, canvas untouched.

Even sadder, projects brought this close
to completion, but never quite finished.

With a bottom drawer of neglected manuscripts,
fishing tackle box containing pastels barely used,
containers of unopened Mod Podge,
the aforementioned Christmas cross-stitch kits,
never to be stitched, at least by me.

Who am I to talk?
Who am I to talk?

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Challenge #4: “A little grace.”

[Challenge #4...... use four different media in one composition....which tells a story..... include the journaled story or not as you wish......Any takers? (2 week challenge) ]

I used markers, paper, a canvas board and a glue stick. It was really hard sticking to just four media. To me it seems a little plain, but that suits the poem I guess… thanks for the challenge, Grace Solman !

Here’s the poem, which is part of the piece.

A little grace.

Iron bars
are not needed
to make
a prison.

Your mind
can build
the strongest
walls.

Before your eyes
a golden key
dangles.

Take it!

While you still can.
Grasp
liberation
with both hands.

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My Bliss

Willow trees, birch and aspen, smell of fresh-cut grass.
Keys, butterflies, bears, dragonflies
Cherry blossoms, lilacs
Blue-berry muffins, apple crisp, crumb donuts, apple cider
Celtic music, movie soundtracks
Rain – its touch, smell, and sound
Fairies, dragons, fairy-tales
Sunsets, trains, dance
Milk chocolate, chocolate milk, pistachios, strawberry lemonade
Petting and cuddling with a cat

Sparks

Mary Butterfly Signature

Manifestation

A dove descends
(like a dream made real)
to the puddle by the road.

Did you expect to find a miracle here?
Me neither.
Spirit transforms love
into a bird, feathers and all.

Maybe it means peace.
It probably means nothing.
One dove joined by another.

A pair.
Paradise.

photo by Pat Bean

photo by Pat Bean

(1st Poetic Muselings Summer Poetry Challenge)

“Crayola”

Thoughts while shopping online.

Crayola

I read reviews for Crayola washable
markers, just want to color, not all that
creative.

I find out kids these days
color themselves, their clothes, their friends,
the walls.

If we’d tried that, my generation,
we would have been smacked all the way
into next week.

But things change. Things change.

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(1st Poetic Muselings Summer Poetry Challenge)

Yeah, I seem to be writing a story told in verse as a succession of poems about these two guys …

Another Step Down the Road  ColdSnow

 

One foot in front of the other,

under dark sky as I seek.

The cold is becoming my lover

and hunger an enemy to cheat.

 

I set out in search of adventure,

escape from the burden of land,

freedom from all expectations,

and work I could take in my hand.

 

Instead I’ve  been cold, wet and hungry.

I sleep under stars all  alone.

Yet still open road’s voice will call me

while her breath leaves me chilled to the bone.

Journey

Here’s a companion poem to the one I posted yesterday:

Journey

 

Wanderer, wanderer where do you go,

all alone on the road when the wild winds blow?

Where did you come from and why did you leave,

who are the loved ones you left home to grieve?

 

Hunched in your cloak with your pack on your back,

bent almost double by the weather’s attack,

you pass by my hovel. I stare out at you.  sky

When will I ever bid loved ones adieu?

 

Held to a life of hard labor and toil,

grubbing for greens as I turn over soil,

I dream of far shores and adventures galore,

yet never will I set a foot out my door.

Cold Stone

 

Dirt and stone beneath my feet,

clouds and mist above me,

in my ears, the sheep’s high bleat.

Dear, I know you love me.

 

As I wander down the road

I leave you behind me,783813785_2782529629_0

standing in the field I hoed.

Shafts of sunlight blind me.

 

My way is long and dark, alone.

I won’t be returning.

Will our child remember, grown,

a father’s love so burning?

 

Yet I must this journey make

else my soul be fettered.

Your love you gave and I did take,

but it left me tethered.

 

Stego Stomp

This one is for my son, as he chose the prompt: dinosaurs. My first dinosaur poem.

DJ Rex

DJ Rex

Stego Stomp

Come into the stomping ground
Best party to be found

DJ Rex will never fail
Every dino shake your tail

Through the valley we will romp
Time for the Stego Stomp

Clap your plates to the beat
Move all four of your feet

Stomp left, then stomp right
Jump up with all your might

Nose to the ground, tail in the air,
Wave that thing like you don’t care

Spin around, then grab a snack
(Making sure to watch your back)

Blast out a mighty roar
You are a dinosaur!

stego stomp

 

 

 

 

 

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