NaPoWriMo – Poem #12

In my neighborhood, there sits a fenced off mudpit. One lonely ducks swims through the muddy waters where once there lay a pond. Ducks, geese, squirrels, and butterflies all danced and floated along these shores and through these trees. Now this landscape is little more than mud-slick banks and barren limbs. The duck looks to us for food, as if we might have some morsel to toss over the fence, but we have none. Heavy machinery growls and heaves in the distance, replacing the chattering noises of animals – their presence is little more than ghostly impressions that I summon from memory. The air smells of raw dirt, foul water, and exhaust. Gone are the smells of pink and purple blossoms and fresh cut grass. The lone duck swims back to the center of his tiny mud pool. This heap his solitary kingdom.

Man reshapes the land.
Beauty turns to lifeless brown.
Nature takes its leave.

NOTE: This poem rather loosely follows the Day 12 prompt from NaPoWriMo.net – to write a haibun that takes in the natural landscape of the place you live. 

 

NaPoWriMo – Poem #11

Crone Ascending

When that which was
and that which is becoming
realizes that which shall be.

Wrinkles like record-keepers
mark the years, the moments
fixed, earning their place,
in the register of time.

Round and supple curves
have melted, hanging heavy
on a frame shrunken, shorter
where it once stood tall.

A barren, empty womb
where unfulfilled promise,
fruit that never ripened,
has withered and died.

Eyes, curtained windows,
into a mind full, but inaccessible
broken stairs, rotted rungs,
and detours without destination

When the maiden has faded,
the mother turns away,
and the crone is ascending.

NaPoWriMo – Poem #10

If I Were a Desert

If I were a desert
I’d be endless sun
light, searing and brilliant,
dancing like glitter
over each speck of sand

If I were a desert
I’d be shifting landscapes,
treacherous visions,
gliding over a graveyard
of dust and bleached bone

If I were a desert
I’d be scales and shells,
sharp spines and venom,
life through persistence
shifting amidst my sands

If I were a desert
I’d be warm breezes,
heat from a lover’s breath,
exhaling torment and promise
against raw, responsive skin

If I were a desert
I’d be dry lips,
parched and cracked,
whispering to cool rains
begging for the waters to come

and quench me

NaPoWriMo – Poem #9

Random thoughts on the Demodex…

Just as the microscopic mites which live upon our skin
–digging, crawling, eating, mating, dying–
are we not like tiny mirrors of the same living upon the earth?

Please note: This mini poem, is in response to the Day 9 prompt from NaPoWriMo.net – to write a poem in which something big and something small come together.

NaPoWriMo – Poem #8

Weaver of Words, Work Thy Magic!

Set the desk with ink and quill
Prepare the parchment and work your will

Light a candle, let inspiration spark
Be ready to weave your words at first dark

Now, chant this invocation:

Muses hear me, in the night
Guide my pen, ease my plight

Spin my sonnet like a spell
Drawing ink, I conjure from this well

Let my lyrics lure the reader
Entwining verse, refrain, rhyme, and meter

Hypnotic haiku that intrigue the soul
Enchanting elegies that lament and console

Sing me odes to overwhelm the senses
And whisper limericks with no pretenses

Ballads that bewitch and beguile
Followed by epics that go on a long while

When at last the ink has run dry
And the first sign of light is drawing nigh

May inspiration cease and silence swell
Sleep now Calliope, Erato, Thalia, and Euterpe as well
As light sheds the veil, thus endeth our spell!

Please Note: This poem is inspired by the Day 8 prompt from NaPoWriMo.net – to write poems in which mysterious and magical things occur.

NaPoWriMo – Poem #6

warm breath
of
Spring

wraps
my skin
in a
blanket
of
promise

but
cold winds
whisk it              away

April rains
cool
and
harden

droplets
crystallizing
into slivers
of ice-glass
shards

sharp
and
stinging
against
flushed skin

becoming
snow                 flakes
heavy
and full

frigid hand
of
Winter

clawing
claiming
grasping

once more
before

giving way
to sleep

This poem is an attempt to follow the NaPoWriMo prompt for Day #6 – stretching our comfort zones with line breaks.