before sun-white wall
green buds dream of lavender
in thrall to iris

before sun-white wall
green buds dream of lavender
in thrall to iris
solitary nude
unperturbed by graffiti
monsters’ silly snarl
Behind, belated, and loving it
Stretch
don’t dabble
plunge in
wholehearted
welcome the violoncello
its notes reverberate
glide raindroplike near
undying
forever
deep-dive
where invaders
in mantles of mother of pearl
melt suffering into iridescence
shapeshift into shining
gems
befriend the flitting
swallow
see it build its nest from
mud and saliva
here in the quiet cloister
of an abandoned
convent
turn the stone it
astounds
lay your palms
gratitude gently
on stumbling blocks
pour syrah on the ground
drain the silver
cup
stretch farthest
the lark spirals skyward
listen
its song caresses
the wheat field
when you break bread
let its flavor be
vertical
Souvenir
Sand-colored
luscious plutocratic
pair
supreme slender utterly
elegant long-legged
Afghans
twin elongated faces
gold-glinting
eyes
wide-windowed
St. Andrew’s viewpoint
sighthounds’ horizon
skyscrapers crystal spikes
HongKong below
glistening
water’s rim
similar sunlit immersion
still here
sand-color pervades
all
her flawless robe
hair flowing down
bronzed shoulders
hand lightly
on shivering greyhound flank
shimmering
sand-colored
instant
Prompt:
memory of dogs
Life, woven from love?
Look around, see nature woo,
squirrels chase from elm to fir,
wood pigeons coo,
buds break open, leaves renew,
bristly hedgehogs stir,
so, too, the human zoo.
Bus driver beams welcome
to arriving crew,
bearded face beneath blue
hood, limping old lady,
misunderstood,
shy newly-weds, tourist
lost in morning mist,
of local language not a gist,
mom, bundled-up baby,
bright-helmeted cyclist –
driver alive to toing and froing,
smiles farewell to all on going,
openhearted benevolence,
no mere surface happenstance,
greetings instants of luminous trove:
life unceasingly weaving love.
NaPoWriMo: write a love poem.
9 April 2022
And now for our (optional) daily prompt! Because it’s a Saturday, I thought I’d try a prompt that asks you to write in a specific form – the nonet! A nonet has nine lines. The first line has nine syllables, the second has eight, and so on until you get to the last line, which has just one syllable.
Happy writing!
Nonet on Gratitude
Gratitude like a blond squirrel
delights in crunchy beechnuts
like an autumn leaf swirls
in a gentle wind
loves to expect
forever
great good
now
A tongue unraveled
Amble through the jungle,
find an orchid in bloom, guest of a luxuriant tree,
inhale its aroma of words,
the scent of its honey dew heart,
rest and wonder:
are words edible art?
Like a hummingbird hover,
home in on orchid’s flower-star,
a lover, see its chalice shimmer pearly bright,
alight, your bill ajar
unfurl your tongue,
sip, savor the sweet nectar of words.
When you’ve had your fill
retract your tongue,
bill closed, coil tongue inside,
don’t frown,
fold your wings, go to bed.
Night before long
will unravel your tongue,
braid a poem’s lines around your head
like a laurel crown.
a mirror image
and ordinary pine tree
adds on mystery
tree danced to dispel
haze of heartache overcome
by loss of soul friend