This is my first post for 3 days and my first poem of this month. In April, I only posted 26 or so poems, instead of 30, and reading of other bloggers’ posts fell by the wayside as well, even as the A-to-Z and NaPoWriMo challenges were going on, and people were writing more posts. I hope to get better at reading other people’s posts this month, although nothing has changed so far.
Let them flow and go,
Until they are blown away,
Down the river of blue
This is my very late response to the Cosmic Photo Challenge, for which this week’s theme is In the Morning Light, so I took these photos in my back yard this morning at around 6:15.
Psalm 103 inspired this cinquain:
Give thanks For everything: Morningtime is hopeful, Looking up at sunrising sky With clouds
Wanting to extend this theme, I wrote a Chaucerian stanza next:
The clouds of morning bring with them a hope: A cotton-candy pink like sweetest blush Colors their face, as languidly they lope Across the sky, amidst the gentle hush Of morning. Currently there is no rush. I hear birds chirp and revel in the sound, Hope beauty is unclouded, evening-gown’d.
This poem was inspired by the images for these 2 prompts: MLMM’s Photo Challenge #417 and Sadje’s WDYS #137. I wrote it, a curtal sonnet, a few days ago and was not entirely happy with it so almost forgot to post it before the next WDYS is released!
The way ahead could be vast as the sky,
Its limits only bound by my belief --
Yet how closed-off it feels, making me cry,
Unable to find a path to relief.
How much is self-imposed, a needless thief?
Suspending disbelief for but a day
Might help me find a sky that is not gray --
And in those clouds some brand-new shapes are found.
Then on the Earth I'll stand and look around,
And hear a voice point out, "This is the way"--
How sweet the sound!
This photo struck me because it, to me, is almost a symbol of what it’s like to live with depression. People who have no idea what they’re talking about will say to “think positive” or “make a gratitude list” (as if the problem is that I’m ungrateful). However, it is true that finding little things that make me happy, little moments of beauty or cuteness (like the ducks) does help. I can recognize the sky, the nice clouds, the awesome rainbow — but often it’s like the most important part — the COLOR, the purpose almost, as well as hope — is missing. Tell me if you understand what I am trying to say, please. 🙂
70 degrees, skies only sometimes overcast — is this what passes for winter in California? Many places have snow and storms; this is much nicer by comparison, but today I can’t keep warm. I’ve tried both coffee and chamomile tea, huddling under a soft blanket while reading. Shortly I may decide to snuggle under my bed-covers and hibernate for a while.
a chilly morning see some blue between the clouds soft blanket of white
The other day I shared a rather silly ghazal, and today I have a more serious one that I think is good enough to share. 🙂 It is also a response to MLMM’s Saturday Mix: Double Take, where we write using homophones.