Early morning – minute poem for dVerse

Days when I walk in the garden,
Early morning,
When the dew clings
To all green things,

Before the sun climbs up too high,
Burning the sky,
When each leaf glows,
Each flower grows,

Then I am open to the world,
My soul unfurled,
And I glow too,
And I grow new.

 

Frank is minding the bar at dVerse tonight. He’s asked us to write a minute poem – 60 syllables, arranged 844 x 3, with an aabb rhyme scheme. Frank is a bit of a king of forms, so he’s setting the bar high. 

 

Window

From here the land rises

like a green wave, so that

perhaps we cling

like fishermen to our

small boat. Are we afraid?

 

~For Lillian at dVerse, who asks us to be inspired by windows. I think there is more to say on this subject, and my picture doesn’t capture the perspective at all, which is a little frustrating. 

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Flicker – quadrille for dVerse

Scents flicker
as scents do
here/gone/here/gone
swift gesture
of honeysuckle
glimpse of
jasmine,

the stone
is warm
against my
bare feet

and dark wings
flicker

as the swallows

fly high,
darting,
dancing,
chasing the air,
scrawling
“summer”
over the
purpling
sky.

Happy 6th birthday to dVerse, happy writing and adventuring. It’s open again, after a summer break, and  Grace asks us to use the word “flicker” in our quadrilles. 

A blessing for my son.

May you always
know the ocean,
the steady beat
of her waves,
the great width
of her strength.

Even if you live
locked in a
land-locked city,
may you dream of
the sea.

May you always feel
the joy you feel
at the first sight
of the blue sea
sparking in summer;
the awe you feel
at the power of
the waves
in a winter storm.

May you always know
the salt water
in your
own blood.

Morning blessing

May the morning light
drift over you
gentle as
golden silk

May your eyes open
on hope:
a green seedling,
an opening flower,
soft in the
morning light.

May your ears catch
a tumble of birdsong,
a whisper of breath,
in the morning quiet.

May morning enter
your ears, your eyes,
your heart,
filling your day
with the colour
of peace,
the peace of colour.

May your hands reach
into the light,
and fill themselves
with warmth.

May you taste the
tang
of this new day,

May you smell the clean
scent
of a new
beginning.

May your first thoughts
be full
of compassion

your first words
full of joy
and love.

Paul Scribbles is running the show at dVerse tonight, and asking for blessings.

The wild

I have seen flowers come in stony places,
Their fine roots crumbling concrete;
I have seen gulls nesting on sky scraping cliffs
And watched grass quietly creeping out over the lane.
I have held the gaze of a fox on a garden wall,
Heard a blackbird calling from a broken gutter,
Seen a tree growing from a long cold chimney
And ivy reaching blindly through a paneless window.

Who are we kidding? With our taming mesh of roads
And bridges, our glyphosates, our planned piazzas?
One day, this will fall,
In an orgy of vegetation – and daisies will sprout
Between our sanded floor boards, and bindweed
Climb helter skelter up the lamp posts,
And deer will browse among the rusted frames
Of our bark chipped playgrounds.

The wild is always there,
Waiting to return.

 

It’s open link night at dVerse, and Grace is in charge. This is one of the first poems I ever blogged, in April 2016 – for NaPoWriMo. The prompt was “a borrowed first line” and I chose one from John Masefield. In fact the whole poem is only 4 lines long, so it’s one I can remember…

I have seen flowers come in stony places
And kind things done by men with ugly faces
And the gold cup won by the worst horse at the races,
So I trust too.

 

Sport – haibun for dVerse

My daughter has grown through sport. I have watched her grow leaner, fitter, and much more confident through finding a sport she loves and working hard at it. She rows, which means watching the tides, fitting time on the river into early mornings and after school sessions, giving up time at the weekend when she could be shopping or Snapchatting, and getting up at crazy o’clock to get to regattas.

We live in the middle of nowhere, so I’ve resigned myself to driving the kids all over the place. I stand at the side of rugby pitches in the rain, and I sit in dojos on sunny days for my son, but secretly I prefer the rowing. I like sitting by the river, watching the movement of the water. I like watching the quad working together, perfecting their timing, their awareness of each other. I like their laughter as they clean down the boat and pack away their oars. Most of all, I like the determination on my daughter’s face as she pushes herself, concentrating on every stroke.

water flows swiftly

river dancing with the sea

white wings skim the waves

Bjorn is hosting at dVerse tonight. He wants us to write about sport. I wouldn’t say we are a sporty family, but we seem to do a lot of it. I run, and over the last year I’ve discovered cardio-tennis, but sport has most of its impact on me through my children. 

Storm – for dVerse

She wore a dress
like a summer storm
when the clouds bubble
impossible forms;
she brought lightning’s electric scent,
and the threat
of thunder to come
and yet
we were drawn
towards her light,
the brittle light
of just before
a June
downpour.

 

The very wonderful De is hosting at dVerse tonight. It’s quadrille night – 44 words – and the key word is “storm”.