Choosing, or, the Coffee Shop Menu

Based on this prompt about choosing and also on the fact that, even if I am interested by new stuff at the coffee shop, I almost always get black coffee or plain tea. Even with this poem, after spending a day wondering which form I should use to write it, I settled, unsurprisingly, on a Sevenling.


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An Orange

For DVerse Poetics, we are to use the inside and outside of a fruit as inspiration. Unexpectedly, I ended up writing something, and though it’s no masterpiece, I think it works.


Outside:
Sturdy, thick skin
Can be scraped to make zest,
Can get under sharp fingernails
Which peel

Open —
Citrus juice spills
Over hands which hold soft
Segmented flesh out, sweet and tart
To taste

Noticing the Flourishing

May’s full moon is on Wednesday, and it is known as the Flower Moon, as Frank, the host of DVerse Haibun Monday, says.


This month, I have noticed a wealth of new flowers in the garden: varying shapes and shades, hues of pink and yellow, almost whatever one could name. Bees are busy pollinating, and the blueberries, too, are growing and ripening from a gentle light-green. We have already picked a bowlful; soon the fruits will fill baskets. The garden is waiting to give many other fruits and vegetables as treasures.

after heat of day
buzz of all activity
rests under the moon

 

https://dversepoets.files.wordpress.com/2021/05/super-full-moon-november-2016.jpg

Ill-Fated Dessert

For SoCS, our prompt is to find a word or words that contain “-oop.”

Getting out a spoon to scoop
Some ice cream — oops!
Across the room it flings,
Hitting the window coverings
And sliding to the floor.
Happy ice cream turns to Poor
Me needing to clean up.
Then I fill another cup.
This silly poem is inspired by the fact that ice cream straight from the freezer is impossible to scoop and is loosely based on what happened when I (tried) to dish out ice cream a couple of nights ago. 

Hungry Birds

My family’s garden has been a frequent source of inspiration lately (and honestly almost every time I go out there), and it fit perfectly with PSU’s Weekly Scribblings prompt, “Bird is the Word.” I am also linking with DVerse OLN.


goldfinch and friends cheep
perch and search among the plants:
empty bird-feeder

 

Poor birds. 😦 I still saw plenty of them, though.

Growing Strawberries

I wrote this string of haiku after observing the strawberry plants in my family’s garden. We have many berries growing and a few flowers on the plants. 

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I wrote this poem, in a way, to the little flower and about them. The interesting thing about them is that, even though there are many fully-grown berries by them, they do not compare themselves, and they never think that they are growing too slowly, nor think of themselves as failures. There are lessons that flowers can teach us, I think. And by “us,” of course I mean “me.” 

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Ribs

When your dinner inspires a poem, you might have a problem. 🙂 However, it’s the kind of problem that I love to have. In April I have set the goal to post a poem every day, so this is the one I’ve chosen to share today.


Very messy,
Like the ribs that I’ve been eating —
Very messy
Side of life that others don’t see,
Façade behind which heart’s beating —
Recall, my dear, all hide something
Very messy.

California Calamity

Today’s SoCS prompt is “starts with cal,” and the first thing I thought of is calories, but we’re not going to write a post about that. 🙂 Hmm… Calzone (yummy!). Oh, yeah, California, calling… But California doesn’t need to call because I am already here.  I hope we don’t experience any calamities anytime soon. I’m pretty scared of earthquakes.


shaking California ground
comes upon us sans one sound
the thing that causes much fear,
potentially always here —
nothing like the “quake” started
last March, in the year departed,
life can change quickly, warning
not possible, lingering sting

Boiling and Freezing. And Cheese.

For JusJoJan day 10, FOWC: Liquid, and also shared with the first Writers’ Pantry of the year, I have a poem that ended up being rather silly.


How many of us are filled to the brim,
Fatigued from fate’s capricious whims?

How many feel like their blood boils,
Are disappointed, despite their toils?

A cold glass of water, with crushed ice,
Then a generous glass of wine, would be nice.

Maybe instead of only saying “Cheese,”
We can eat some with delicacies.