Left to dissolve to nothing,
Life is a vapor quickly
Leaving almost no traces.
Leaves tumble from autumn trees
Listless, dead in whisp’ring wind,
Lethe takes memories — so
Light from stars must say goodbye.
Yesterday, my friend had a small party, and one of the activities we did was paint along to a Bob Ross painting tutorial. I had heard of him but never tried one of those videos. Anyway, my finished painting inspired this free-verse poem, because it is not very good! I’m rather embarrassed about it (so I am sharing it with the internet 😂). Continue reading →
For DVerse Poetics, we are writing about November: What does it mean to you? What does it remind you of? I wrote a 9-line poem, like an etheree but with 9 instead of 10 lines, because “novem-” means “nine.” Also linked with FOWC: Anticipate. Thanks to Sanaa for the DVerse prompt and for inspiring the title.
We may have had all summer to enjoy the sun, and now night and day are even. Yet as autumn begins to descend, I can’t help feeling it’s not a fair fight. I keep waiting for the last leaf to fall — for the other shoe to drop.
Flaming, leaves are red —
In a world that’s upside-down
Somewhere it is Spring
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.
This is for Linda Kruschke’s paint-chip poetry #35. I think it turned out okay for something that was almost a stream-of-consciousness, but I do think we were supposed to write something uplifting, which did not happen this time.
The future is like a red-velvet cake:
Despite its classy name
I’ve never preferred its flavor,
Just give me the same
Chocolate cake I’ve been baking.
Here’s a piece of honesty: I’m bluffing
When I say it’s exciting.
This “new normal” is like planting
An acorn in a little terra-cotta pot —
Do you expect a towering oak?
Sunrise is my favorite time of day:
Morning-glory hues up high
But I must ask if it is morning that’s broken,
Or if under that sky,
It is I who broke, and am breaking?