Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Like a river flowing











dVerse
https://dversepoets.com/





  Columbia River  between Oregon and Washington States


Birthed in Canada,
pure drops of water,
crystal clear
trickle from portals
of glacier-sided mountains,
filling secret streams
emerging hastily to catch up with
her many tributaries like children
All join her as she mightily
travels through the emerald
Cascade mountain range,
quenching her land's thirsty throat

Home to Chinook salmon and
Indian spirit lakes mirroring the sky,
'tis where I hail from,
where I was raised by
her coolness bathing my mind,
instilling in my heart passion
for pristine waterfalls,
places named for legendary chiefs -
Multnomah, Sealth, and
Swinomish

It led Sacajawea
and Lewis & Clark on virgin trails
through tall timbers
along its route winding to the sea
Roll on, goes the song,
roll on Columbia,
roll on

She engages along the way,
hosts of history
who inhabit her banks
Train tracks on either side,
gigantic dams
speak of energy supplied
to people living far and wide
Separated by heaven and earth,
she's the main artery,
churning sustenance
from darkness to dawn
Our state's life blood journeys west,
leaving her bounties
from apple orchards, vinyards,
wild huckleberries,
to cedar and fir boughs,
elegant elk and deer,
easily flowing into the
wide sandy mouth of
the Pacific ocean

       
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            




Thursday, March 16, 2017

Awakenings
















dVerse

At dversepoets.com today, Bjorn asks us to write or paint with words of impressionism in art, where the essence of the subject is brought out with light and brush strokes that draw us in. There is a freshness about the art that is easy on the eye and evokes strong emotions.



                                                                                              by Jean Mannheim

Emerging gracefully from 
around a grey corner,
spring arrives at a bleak time,
taking to task for 
not leaving sooner, hail, and
winter's slippery grime
 - where maroon vines of heartache 
now creep,
Spring bliss will line the street
birds trill in concert
with stained glass chimes
Still, hands reach for other hands 
to grasp; arms stretch for 
other arms to hold
Pink snow appears all around;
light plays with slender
beams of gold
White wisps of cotton ridges
dab the sky, breezes nudge
dreamers 
longing for softer days,
to stroll heathered paths
looking for the one thing that 
really matters
Removing her hat to let
sun kindle her cheeks,
she drops easily to the ground,
sensing awakenings 
Braced by one elbow,
she rests on rounded side in
a green grassy lea
 She waits for
flowers
to fill her garden bed 
After all,
Spring is appreciated