For Linda Kruschke’s last (😞) paint-chip poetry prompt, an octave using at least 2 of the phrases below. I used 4 out of 5. Also linked to MVB: Open. I finally did one of these on time, and there won’t be any more. That’s almost funny.
Linking up with FOWC: Figment, even though I have actually been working on this for 3 days. For whatever reason, it was rather challenging for me to finish.
In this moment all is well,
Calling me to peace.
All my worries letting go,
Tension can release.
Now is no disaster near,
Figment of my worries.
Dealing with anxiety
Is part of the journey.
What’s to come? A mystery.
But for now breathe peacefully.
I wrote this etheree today, inspired by the psalms and gospel. It also reminded me of the poem The Dove of Peace, which I wrote a while ago. I wrote a series of 3 poems based on one picture, but I’ll only link to the first one. 🙂
I could have
Wings like a dove,
Like the dove of peace,
Like the dove alighting
On Jesus — and those white wings
Shall open wide and welcoming,
Finding rest in the depths of my heart,
Where even there will be found living peace.
Here it is, Thursday evening again, so here is my almost-late response to both the paint-chip poetry prompt and this prompt about togetherness. I am responding to these prompts together to make it easier. 🙂 That’s not such a “daring” thing to do, is it? Without further ado, 31 words including one of these paint chips:
Sitting on a park-bench
With you, as nighttime falls,
Watching bunnies come out of
Bushes and tweeting birds retreat —
The sunset comes as we
Relax and breathe — breaths of fresh air.
The bridge between two days is called “Today,”
The past and future merge when it is Now:
Although this moment cannot ever stay,
And in a blink will need to take a bow
Without an encore, let Hope allow
A smooth transition to the moments new.
A brand-new land waits barely out of view.
A haibun alluding to the solstice for DVerse’s Haibun Monday.
Sweet, ripe strawberries convey the taste of summer. Store-bought may be bigger, but nothing can beat the beauty of garden-grown. The sun from my own back yard reddens the fruits, which have grown from hand-planted seeds, just as this daylight has grown from the seeds of winter nights. Teeth sink gratefully into the fruits of our labor.
This moment stands still
Reaching the peak of ripeness —
Sweet strawberry juice
This poem is for FOWC: Search and was partially inspired by this prompt about what provides comfort. It is written in a form that I learned from Abigail Gronway at “Dark Side of the Moon” a long time ago. Go check out her blog; she writes fantastic poetry! I am also linking with DVerse OLN.