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July 10, 2017July 10, 2017

Leafy Boughs of Finery

When the air turns crisp and
harbors promises of cold nights
requiring the layering of clothes
to provide warmth the chill of
autumn dresses for the season
with leafy boughs that become
a finery of golds, yellows, reds
lining the street a fall runway
they bend ever so slightly to see
through the glass eyes of homes
where pumpkin pies are baking
and hot cider is brewing

This is response to Jamie Dede’s Wednesday Prompt. You can view more poets responses at https://jamiededes.com/2017/07/05/autumn-promises. The photo
below was taken from Morgue File and digitized by myself.

Autumn Color

July 9, 2017

A New Site In Way of Explanation

This site is a work in progress presently. It took me awhile to get even this far as I am at odds with the technical world we all enjoy. Please bear with me as this might take some time. I will endeavor to post more of my own personal take on art by either creating my own pieces to go with my writing or take photos from the Morgue File, as I have on my current site http://reneejustturtleflight.com and digitize them as another way to create
art. Thank you in advance for all those who write, love art, create in other ways or all of the above.

July 3, 2017July 3, 2017

Pots of Coffee Brewing

Morning coffee reminds her of years gone by
when she hustled to clean & tidy up the house
so untidy with five children running about
so she would be in readiness for parents
knowing that several pots would brew of a day
to give her the energy to persevere, strength
to be patient while her mother scrutinized,
criticized and ultimately laughed with her
but she knew as their car left the driveway
she would settle into a comfy spot dozing as
her caffeine high evaporated, energy waned
leaving her thinking of only the one cup
setting before her swirling, inviting to
remind her the pots of coffee that brewed
are but a memory no longer required, no
longer needed to get through parents visits

This is in response to Jamie Dedes’s Wednesday Prompt. You can read other poet’s responses at https://jamiededes.com/2017/06/28/over-his-morning-coffee-a-poem-and-your-wednesday-writing-prompt. The photo here was taken from the Morgue File and digitized by myself.

Beans and Coffee

June 26, 2017

The Star Second To The Right

In a time primordial when first life began
unimaginative of the harsh realities of wars
when sunrises and sunsets were ethereal
she can only imagine stepping into dreams
of discovering an unblemished world of those
dreams made of translucent skies so that
much like Peter all she has to do is to go
to the star second to the right and straight
on till morning or perhaps like Alice she
should eat but a small bit of cake to become
just the right size to enter the garden
there upon discovering a different world
for in seeing forever is the powerful force
where oceans teeming with life are no longer
a graveyard of war ships but only coral reefs
a delightful dance of colors and creatures
and where gardens floral are wondrous delights
for children playing for hate is not a word
so cannot invade her dreams that will always
be pristine as newly fallen snow in Winter
with skies so clear she can revel to see them all
from anywhere to blissfully fly to the star second
to the right and straight on till morning

This is in response to Jamie Dede’s Wednesday prompt. You can read more of other poet’s responses at https://jamiededes.com/2017/06/21/the-hawk-has-flown-a-poem-and-your-wednesday-writing-prompt. The photo below was taken from the Morgue File and digitized by myself.

June 13, 2017September 2, 2017

He Was Pandemonium

He caused such a noise, such outcry, such a racket
from the time he crawled, had words & was walking
& with every sibling that arrived within our midst
there was discord between them and between us
from a knock on the door with unfortunate news
of the fact that a boy was perched upon the roof
to his sisters upset as they walked into a bedroom
to see the scurry of a frog causing a commotion
to the neighbor stating your son is in the alley
ought not to be experimenting with matches ought he
to the surprise knock of the police at the door
with a number of hood ornaments in his possession
to the night of upheaval he came home quite sodden
that as I thought in dismay of all the pandemonium
of the day he was born with strawberry blond hair
never I thought ‘the rumpus will now begin’ and it did

This is in response to Jamie Dede’s Wednesday prompt. You can read other poet’s response to this prompt at https://jamiededes.com/2017/06/07/this-wild-rumpus-of-life-a-poem-and-your-wednesday-writing-prompt. The photo below was taken from the Morgue File & Digitized by myself.

Frog Rumpus

June 5, 2017September 2, 2017

The Season of Becoming

Is this the Winter of her discontent as with
Shakespeare the world around might seem one
that is indifferent to her sadness that age
has besieged her but no it is not so harsh
as the icy cold winds and snow harboring
a breath that will not seek to warm her skin

for it has become like the Season of Summer
where the warming rays of the sun stretches wide
to cover the new growth from Spring that offers
new bright green leaves that will be transformed
into variations of darker greens providing shade
to all of nature’s life beneath boughs of trees

who watch as life is born from tiny tadpoles
becoming frogs to the larvae of dragonflies to
a multitude of birds peering from the safety of eggs
to all beginning a journey of grand proportions
where Fall will see a quiet settling in to harvest
and rest amidst the beauty of all that has become

for stepping into the Winter of her life she now sees
her discontent not as a sadness but as one of observing
all that has come before, all that has become who she is
for it is another beginning and one of transformations
that will show her all the brilliance of her colors
enabling doors to naught hidden as opening to reveal

This is in response to Jamie Dedes’s Wednesday writing prompt. Please read more of the other poets’ replies at https://jamiededes.com/2017/05/31/in-time-displaced-a-poem-and-your-wednesday-writing-prompt. The photo below was taken from the Morgue File and digitized by myself.

Tulips in Snow

May 29, 2017September 2, 2017

Glistening Bits of Gold

On a day where time stands still she sees
each quintessential increment of time
like the sun hitting tiny seed pods that
have fallen on the street glistening as
tiny bits of gold sparkling as jewels
that offset the black asphalt street
turning the harsh landscape of tar into
that of a black silken cape waiting
to be garnered by nature’s queen as
she strolls the avenue bending only
momentarily to gaze lovingly at all that
she has made from the beauty of flowers
orange as the poppy to that of the shrubs
close to the ground shading tiny insects
to the majesty of towering evergreens
she becomes entwined in the moment and
she is ensconced and feels content

© May 2017 Renee Espriu

This is in response to Jamie Dede’s Wednesday Prompt at https://jamiededes.com/2017/05/24/the-sun-is-in-love-with-me-a-poem-and-your-wednesday-writing-prompt. Please do visit to read other poets’ response. The photo below is my own.

Orange Poppies

May 15, 2017September 2, 2017

Being Unpolished and Knowing

Like strands of pearls uncultured, unconnected
they lie strewn at your feet tantamount to words
discarded and useless unable to be linked as one
until something more refined comes along

she knows this every moment of every day speaking
is broken by hesitation, pauses and frustration
like diamonds rough from nature not yet expertly cut
by the jeweler’s hand in minuscule sharp detail

something like disparate but not really the same
just as peculiar is not exactly being self-serving
for who can say she is not the bowels of that same venue
as she compiles opinions based on incomplete knowing

she ultimately sees herself on the fringe of everything
and anything but peculiar touting her uniqueness as
that of shrewdly knowing but like that of the pearls
as that of the diamond she too can be unpolished

This is in response to Jamie Dede’s Wednesday Writing Prompt at https://jamiededes.com/2017/05/10/our-prison-of-lost-hope-a-poem-an-writing-prompt. Please do visit her site to read more of other poet’s responses. The photo below was taken from the Morgue File and Digitized by myself.

Unpolished

May 9, 2017September 2, 2017

Eclipsing Rainbows

There are moments of clarity drenched in a soul’s peace
where everything is an eclipse of brilliant rainbows
and becoming is like being mirrored images in lakes
where coral reefs are arms cradling infinite oceans
whereupon mountain rising islands are pristine views
touched only by Galapagos creatures of uniqueness

entering into a communion devoid of ritualistic cups
and eyesight becomes like those raptors’ rapturous quest
to make the flight over the highest of mountain ranges
like child’s play when there is a vision to fly along
and wings are the freedom of song birds a narrative song
in chorus with insects accompanied by frogs croaking

perceiving the world in a field of flowers engaging in
the mystery of becoming seeds under dark brown earth
and pushing up toward the brilliance of mother sun to
sprout into every conceivable bloom with stamen covered
with the sweetest of nectar drawing hummingbirds for
their respite and insects unknowing a pollination of life

This is in response to Jamie Dedes’s Wednesday Prompt at https://jamiededes.com/2017/05/03/soul-as-incorruptible-as-stone-a-poem-and-your-wednesday-writing-prompt. The photo below was taken from the Morgue file and digitized by myself.

Eclipsing Rainbows

May 3, 2017September 2, 2017

Dreaming of Children

A landscape of memory littered
with pieces of dreams
children that once lived
once laughed
oft times schemed

she sees a house abandoned now
ought times with love filled
each & every birth an
auspicious moment still
& each year

she knows she has been gifted
that any tears shed
were merely a bridge
between yesterdays
& tomorrows albeit

as other mothers cry oceans
of salt filled tears
for children that lived once
without fear in loving arms
with kisses, soft still

their auspicious moment shattered
a broken memory like
shards of glass
now buried descending deep
earth’s grief surpassed

whose sorrow cannot rebuild
houses in ashes smoldering
whose dreams
hold ghostly remnants
pale & fading

where a timeless epitaph remains
of young lives interrupted
photos tinged yellow
touched by death
a noxious poison

thinking of this she turns pages
a book of photographs old
& knows dreams
will still be her comfort
will still unfold

that some mother’s dreaming will
become a vile nightmare
an interloper in sun rays
unwanted slumber
empty days

I am a little late to post this on my site. It was first posted in the Bezine last month. You can read more of some wonderfully written poems and other posts at https://thebezine.com/project-type/the-bezine-april-2017-vol-3-issue-7. The photo below was taken from the Morgue File & Digitized by myself.

Dreaming Children