Sky

April 29, 2021April 29, 2021

The Sky So Close

This evening when I took my dog out I stood in awe
as I have done very few times in my life while looking at the sky
the clouds of gray and white as the sun broke through
I have felt this before but so rarely
I felt as though I could touch the very blue of the sky
as though it was so close it became more solid before me
instead of part of the Universe that surrounds me
the clouds felt the same as though they were so very close
I might touch them and feel the mass of them
even though they drifted about me and did not stay still

there may be one who causes everything in life
to look more beautiful than it has ever felt before
when I was a very young girl before everything changed
I might have looked at Nature in such a way
in wonderment of its very being
but now, incredulous as it may seem and it does
my world is as beautiful to me as when I was a girl
a world that holds me in awe and I am entranced
by the mystery of it, the magic of it
and life now begins anew

Image Taken From Public Domain Photos & Created As Art

January 25, 2019

The Well Within

Reaching to look outside myself

to pull the words up and out

of the well within

the weather causes me to feel

weighted down like

heavy murky fog

settled on a lake

or blighted fall leaves

that have floated down

to settle on pools

of water

stuck there one on top another

unable to do anything

but finish dying

finish being

even as the sun shares

the gray sky with clouds

I found this poem in my drafts and as I have not posted anything recently, decided to post this. Winter is finally coming to an end (I hope) but this is how I feel about it here in Washington, having been born and raised in California. Thanks to all who follow this site for your patience.

Photo Taken From Public Domain Pictures & Created As Art

searching

June 10, 2018

The Color of Clouds

A Herald of Rain

November 3, 2017

The Music of The Conch Shell

The conch sea shell is a reminder always
of where it is she really belongs

of small hands holding the beauty
of ocean waves within its’ confines
hugging her ear & she in awe and wonder

even now when she cradles it closely
and listens longingly and intently

she can see the waves building high
coming to crash along the sandy shore
where seabirds add calls to the score

to a music with a wondrous crescendo
the color of sea salt spraying her skin

the wind picking up the string section
with soprano highs & contralto lows
& a sky of variegated blues the backdrop

connecting the ocean stage to the horizon
unseeing of the stage hands hidden below

but bringing memories of dolphins dancing
upon the ocean stage & the magic of whale song
whose singing plays the melody all the while

she knows with utmost certainty she will return
to the place where she really belongs

This was first posted in the last month issue of The Bezine, editor Jamie Dedes, which can be read in more detail at https://thebezine.com/project-type/the-bezine-vol-4-issue-1-music-anniversary-edition-oct-2017. There are two photos below taken from Public Domain Pictures and digitally altered.

Conch Shell Music

July 17, 2017July 17, 2017

A Siren Wailing For No Reason

The sun had risen high in the blue sky
over rolling hills of farm country
causing a dry heat much as the roiling
heat of the home of her childhood
produced in waves upon asphalt streets

she knew the howl of a siren near by in
the close distance as she sat visiting
with her son her terrier mix at her feet
and he saw her puzzled look asking why
to glean the meaning of that sound now

for she recalled a time years past
in the elementary school days now gone
the drills that came, of getting down
upon the floor to hide beneath her desk
with her hands upon her head to wait

but as the memory flashed upon her face
her son smiled to say the neighbor
who lives not far likes to hear the siren
wailing as it does for not a reason
but he hears it every afternoon of a day

so she smiles with him to recall those
drills of her youth and hoping as she did
that her desk might shield her from harm
for it might come with her eyes shut tight
the all clear was given & she breathed a sigh

This post is is response to Jamie Dede’s Wednesday Prompt. You can see more of other poet’s responses at https://jamiededes.com/2017/07/12/at-the-dead-of-noon-a-poem-and-your-wednesday-writing-prompt. I visited my son recently in the town of Ritzville which has a very small populace, a very large granary and railroad tracks running through town carrying all manner of things from lumber to oil to grain and much more. But the one thing that made me take note was the siren which someone sets to wailing every day. Brings back memories and for some of you it may spark your own and for others perhaps not but I hope you enjoy the read. The photo is of my son’s house which I have digitally altered for this post.

A Sound of Siren

July 29, 2016

SLIVERS OF YELLOW

I was thinking of another time some years ago when I lived in Daly City just outside of San Francisco and drove to work in part on the coast highway. I worked in San Francisco a brief time but have some good memories.

The morning bereft of color
mist defying gravity
horizon an eerie miasma
begins slowly lifting
blue sky curtain unfurling

as I traverse down Highway 1
past multi colored stuccoes
towering green pines reveling
shot through with slivers
of brilliant sun rays yellow

dancing on a topaz colored hood
as I leisurely drive to work
in my four door sedan ride
past shell littered beaches
covered with gulls grey white

the waves of the seething ocean
craftily sewn seamlessly
midnight blues and pthalo green
topped with foamy white brew
a quilted blanket for the sea

Image Taken From Morgue File & Digitized by Myself

Sun Yellow

January 25, 2014January 25, 2014

The Winter Night Sky

the stars in the winter night sky
cast shadows
across the rose garden
trembling unseen
beneath their thorny stems
waiting for the warmth of sun
to bring forth budding faces
reminding me of you

Image Taken From The Morgue File
by Karpati Gabor

My mom went now, six years ago on January the 17th, to be with all those she loved and who went before. I certainly believe she is one of the angels now and watches over all who remain. I will never forget you mom. The red rose was her favorite.

August 15, 2013August 15, 2013

Painting Fall

Google Image

flocks of geese fly by
in V formation
silhouetted against
the evening sky

a lone heron heedless
of their departure
clouds so close
you can almost hear
their wings brush them

as leaves on trees
and shrubs begin to
show a sprinkling
first of color then
gradually spreading
to cover

as though artists
hidden in the guise
of fairies
have used them as
their canvas
to paint the
coming of Fall

http://dversepoets.com/category/openlinknight/

May 13, 2012

She Never Told Me

she never told me
who she was
attaching herself
to me as calmly as a
shroud, a winding sheet

nudging me ever so
slightly like a shadow
ever-present even
after the sun
diminishes in the sky

she never told me why
her hair was short
whilst mine was
braided long with
ribbons twisted in
colored fashion

my body captured in
dresses and hers
a bit of shorts and
summer shirt bare
feet running past

my own in shiny black
leather reaching for
conformity, acceptance,
approval but sadness
overwhelming as i

looked back to see her
smile to beckon me
closer to not look
back at life come
lately heartless
without forgiveness

she never told me
who she was as i
took her hand in mine
holding tightly we
twirled dancing
free, cutting

loose the winding sheet
collecting our shadow
unto ourself as we
sped toward loving

who we had to become
she never told me
who she was
she did not have to
for she was me

February 2, 2012

Flood Waters

Flood waters have
subsided
irrelevant of the
time and space
left between
as differentially

notations are jotted
down in betwixt
margins
in my mind
filtered down
amongst
darkened hallways

secreted away in
shadows hiding you
from me erudite
of those times
when bewildered by
your bravery

I would glance
skyward and finding
you there was
filled with wonder
you extend your arms
to me laughing
exposing a
reality

your revelation
but my ephihany of
living fearless as
you enfold me
warmly melting
away all
sorrow

in invitation to
your treetop canopy
where the waters
have left you
I contemplate if

this is a dream…or
something
much more

I dreamt of my oldest daughter who has Lupus and is presently not doing very well, a surgery pending and perhaps another…we aren’t sure…and felt it had to be written down.