This was written for the current Weekly Scribblings, as well as DVerse MTB for today. I hope this poem is especially sonorous. 🙂 For the Weekly Scribblings prompt, they provided a haiku, and I was inspired especially by the phrase, “an old rosary carved of human bone.”
This is my (late) offering for the Sunday Muse, which I often attempt to write for but which I’ve only posted for once or twice. This week’s image is below:
Monarch butterflies symbolize rebirth:
Kings seeking asylum from
The insanity of Earth,
Refugees to the Moon.
I pray, and kneel, arms
Strong in God’s holy refuge:
Maybe Luna can welcome me too,
I’d be the butterflies’ subject.
This poem today is for the Saturday Mix at MLMM, and we are supposed to write a vers beaucoup. Follow the link to learn about this form. I am not sure if I was supposed to write more than one stanza, or if one stanza is sufficient. In any case, here is mine, and I anticipate writing more in this form. I thought that all of those rhymes would sound kind of silly and forced, but it’s fun. Je vais écrire beaucoup de “vers beaucoup.” 🙂 Also linking to the Writers’ Pantry.
May God speak to the weak ones who seek
Him, so bleak hearts become more welcome
To the awesome. May He hear, to make fear
Disappear, to protect what world rejects.
Here is a second one:
All the earth, sing the worth of new birth
Into mirth: from the trees to the seas
And the breeze, animals and all peoples,
Despair repulse — to bless brings happiness.
This Chaucerian stanza is for Linda G. Hill’s SoCS, and the words today are old/new. Although it’s not a free-verse poem, it was pretty quick and I didn’t edit, so I am sharing it.
The old has passed away, the new has come:
This I believe with all my beating heart,
And I want to give it a warm welcome.
Every single day is a fresh new start;
Change does not come at once, but part by part.
Do not lose heart: we are works in progress,
Magnificent, and will find happiness.
This is for SoCS, and the word today is container. I wrote a cherita pretty much as quickly as possible. 😅
I think about the containers we keep food in:
Glass or plastic bowls, tin or aluminum cans —
I think about the container for baby Jesus
A manger, a feeding trough, for Him
From the beginning the Bread of Life,
So that we can contain the divine.
It’s late, but I haven’t posted today. I have written a lot about today’s feast day in the Roman Catholic Church, the Exaltation of the Holy Cross. For more information, click here. This is just one of the poems inspired by that today.
Save us through Your cross, O Lord,
Toss aside our sins,
With the Spirit in our hearts
All expected facts reversed,
A curse made glorious:
Died but then risen again,
Splinters from this painful tree
Lead to healing, making free.
For DVerse Poetics today, we are to write inspired by wheat. At first, I was completely at a loss for any inspiration, but tonight I wrote this Chaucerian stanza.
Unless a grain of wheat shall fall upon
The fertile ground and die, a sacrifice,
It remains a single grain; but once gone
It returns, and is now worth well past twice:
Potential on which you can’t put a price.
Does wheat feel trepidation ere the fall?
Is falling in the field falling at all?
This is for paint-chip poetry #33, and it was partially inspired by FDDA #20, since the temperament described in the poem is maybe an exaggeration of mine but closer to mine than I would like to admit.
Her emotions can go from happy to envious
More quickly than a wind gust.
She’s glad when someone else is accomplished,
Yet also wants the better end of
The wishbone, and of her many wishes.
If she begins to go off the deep end don’t forget
To breathe, get oxygen, take time for a lap swim.
Remember, in the garden, is basil green with envy
No; it helps the heirloom tomatoes to grow.
Now that I think about it, this poem also, in a way, reminds me of yesterday’s Gospel reading (Matthew 20:1-16), which ends with, “Or are you envious because I am generous?”
Say “Carne Vale” — finish all the meat!
Before the start of Lent, those 40 days.
But may these days with vice be not replete:
Let him not be a hypocrite, who prays
“Have mercy” during Wednesday’s austere Mass,
If Tuesday was a sinful, sick morass!
This next one is meant to be funny and quick, so I didn’t want to give it its own post.
Which t.v. show should I watch today?
On Netflix there are more than I can say,
But what is good, and what is utter crap?
So tired of browsing, I might take a nap!
An unprompted poem shared with today’s Writers’ Pantry.
I am blessed to be Your lamb,
Seeing Your kindness,
Kept safe through the raging storms,
Led to happiness.
Held with care inside Your arms,
In the darkest valley,
My head buried in Your heart,
Full of peace and mercy.
Let me never wander far:
To You leads the brightest star.