Thursday, February 28, 2013

Words cry out...

Something new, an Exphrastic Trireme Sonnet  written today per instructions from poet Samuel Peralta for Form for All at ...

Words crying out to be freed and written
 to his long time wife he scripted an ode
pen inclined to paper tracing his blue heart 

From love's first sight til her now fate given
when rain falling distilled about her brow
rainbows growing to bridge their times apart

Letters were sealed by his moist lips to send 
(she waited for them in tide pool's mangrove) 
 kept them tied in blue ribbon in her armoire 

Branches bow low and soft billowed clouds wend 
soft warm breezes in places they once strode  
Sharing a hammock of legs hands and arms  

he recalls she asked of him, "...tell me, then, 
where do you begin...and...where do I end?"

by klr

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

The pelican's song...

  It us Open Link Night over at  Today I put together a poem with a recent watercolor of mine of one of my favorite's going out on it's own merit..I hope some of you find it and like it...

Roaming the
free to be who he is,                                                                                    
no need for approval here,
He often drops in
where not welcome
on his own terms
admonishing seagulls and terns
Dinner jacket, a mottled
feathered matting of ivory,
keen eyes. generous beak,
a curved mandible to envy
In spite of his ample trough
for hoarding fish, not awkward
but glides low skillfully
skimming the sea,
gracefully changing his course,
elegantly using thermal winds to slip,
soar or float, a natural diver he
A good name for him might be
Paddy,  Pavlov, or Pascal
not a vicious or ugly pest but rather a docile
simple duck with a handsome profile
A symbol of sorts of man's
ongoing ability to transform,
his right to freedom and mobility,
to fly openly,
inspired to stopover,
pause, let go and move on
or change direction
Feeling inspired by every moment,
each one being a juncture of the soul's journey
to be enjoyed from one moment into the next
..avoiding  extinction..
                                ....thus far

Saturday, February 23, 2013

I carry secrets...

I carry secrets:
whispered messages 
from distant flaxen shores
ebbing in faint aqua tides
turned and retold
in watery grooves of sand
Energy connecting waves 
sing verses of the sea,
nourishing my poor soul, 
returning you to me
and me to you
 In ocean's lulling foam
beneath beaming rays of sun
 laurels float about my head..
brackish marine life
clings to my nakedness 
my feet become the stern
Life moving in 
and out of me
turning me inside out
willing I am to be
prodigious vessel
empirical link to 
the cosmos' 
natural harmony

by klr

Today Kelvin at has introduced several of his drawings to inspire us to write descriptively..not hard to do on a day where the the sun is out and one is in the writing mood ,,,

Thursday, February 21, 2013

graffiti in Seattle...

Participating at today we are exploring graffiti poetry, the underworld artistic society of misplaced or unknown people making statements via this age old manner of expression...

Hits you like a bolt,
the stark satire
   graffiti on a bus -
birds drawn on a wire..
music streams from the ferry..
behind the stadiums.. the train tracks
  wise words spray painted,
some scary..

Culture unseen by many...
.. life depicted colloquially
rapidly move the world..
a city with it's heart on it's sleeve..
Guns and roses, too

                              In other words...
                                      bleeding sides of buildings..
tell the pain and glory
dripping colors cry out or smile
Warehouse walls shout "Viva Zapata"
..chalk drawn art as a time capsule
for martians compiled...
 "Elvis lives"!

Giant sketches of boobs & high heels,
words date the world of heroin,
bikes & tattoos..
.... a plaintive's plea
for amnesty/NOT the new Tea Party
- freedom of speech no doubt..
Glad it's hidden from
youngsters' eyes, tho
            4 letter words you know
..and hate..
         Exceptional art stands out
   amid funky scribbling
      ....they made a movie with
                  Dreyfus & Ron Howard
                           History scrawled -
shapes filled in//
time warps....
           speed bumps//
Now that's what I don't
call hip anymore!
Tower of Babel,
                                gardens & art gone -
                                   reminders of war..
                                      tumbling down governments
                    ..democracies yet to be borne
Zeppelin -
 Lil Abner.....yin yang,
...Peace, Man...
above all ...

 - it all hits you like a bolt

Sunday, February 17, 2013

Show me a place...Leonard Cohen version

Tying a Leonard Cohen song or song of a place to a poem of my own immediately made me think of a special place I'd like to be, in Italy with someone special....on a long extended summer Tuscan holiday...not as moody as Cohen and not as many rhymes as his song but I hope it has the same effect.  Still recovering from the flu I was unable to even use the computer the way I wanted to for two's good to feel better finally..thanks to those who expressed their well wishes ;)  

Show me the place.... that calmed my restless heartbeat
Show me the place..back down that familiar street
Show me the place..where I felt so young and free
Show me the place...dreams were born and carried me

A summer place..
where willows swing and sway
where a summer song
plays its sweet refrain
where morning shades
are a tropical drink..
an ideal harbor washed
in turquoise haze
Somewhere a place...a home away from home
of years gone by
Mid days fade to cream as "Al Di La" plays a technicolor Casablanca..
Where grapes turn into a smooth Pinot Noir
for those who came from afar.... 
evening conversations
to plump our hearts .
...and bewilder our minds

Show me the place.... that calmed my restless heartbeat
Show me the place..back down that familiar street
Show me the place..where I felt so young and free
Show me the place...dreams were born and carried me

Show me the place....
where pudding aromas laze in the air..
of paella and bread...where lavender and coconut 
swim with flair 
Somewhere that summer place
defines my life's desire
Where echoes spill
from the in the salty air...
an orchestra of chanting monks...clomping hooves..
...of fountains cascading
Somewhere a place to rest ...awhile in the whiteness
of a feather bed.. sewn of silkworms and bamboo
A coverlet of cirrus clouds
outlined at twilight in blood orange glaze

Show me the place.. .
eyes close with sleepy desire
Somewhere there is a place I long to go
A summer place.....keeping me warm from the cold
shaded from the heat....where I'm safe from harm
Somewhere a summer place...
Show me the place..

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Soda fountain memory..

Today we are invited to write using some of the many styles of poetry, forms and various tools and  incorporating them into one poem..since I arrived late on the scene at I have worked on only a few.  This I had already written for Valentine's Day and thought it might do as it is more prose, story, a rhyme or two, colloquial.

Driving the Coca Cola truck was a job he loved..
uP/ D
           n   ramps ..loading - unloading crates..
shipping bills - inventory - neon signs as gifts..
people made the day go around..not the clock
ESPECIALLY,  when he delivered to Woolworth's general store
in San Diego..

..he timed his arrival to coincide
with her coffee breaks ..(after the ice was broken)
She was a tall brunette with a shy smile..
her demeanor  made him feel at ease..
She worked behind the counter at the soda fountain
most days, on her feet all day,  with
her nose in a book when she had the chance..Friendly to all,
she made lifelong friends wherever she went..
He wore a white cap, pushed back on his head,
pushed a hand cart
to wield heavy loads  (and us)..

His laugh was deep yet soft; he was respectful and polite and
she said 'yes' when he asked her for a date
They went square dancing regularly
He kept his beat up Chevy well tuned
.... ordered a fudge sundaes...
she was partial to a 7UP float
with vanilla bean ice cream..
They double dated with friends..he wooed her with HUGE
glittery Valentines and birthday cards..
always signed them "All my love, Eddie"
For many years they both worked hard, he at the lumber mill,
then driving trucks delivering pop and beer..she at the shipyard during the war, the cannery,
and the post office..
Many happy years and many friends later,
After 60 years, she had boxes of his saved cards
They had a wonderful old craftsman home once,
where I remember chickens, a cow, a porch swing, and
the moon.. a dog named Butch. my teddy bear...
But there were many locations as they were like nomads moving
many times between WA. Ore. & CA.. always with my great granny in tow..
I was his first grandchild and I loved him so much.
He rolled his own..smoked until he had cancer at age 86..
I visited him in
the nursing home.
I told him that he looked more handsome every day...
and he winked and smiled back at me the same familiar way ;-)
Grandma live another 12 years..
I never doubted their love for each other,
How they missed one another when he was on the road all those years,
but she would sit on his lap and hold his face in her hands
and they would talk for hours and hours.....
I'll never forget them and all the memories..

Saturday, February 9, 2013

Synonym of adj. bittersweet => sad ( vs. glad )...

 The prompt today at "letting go".  Having written along more somber lines
 recently I was poised to pen something funny; but alas, I wanted to share my experience of letting
 go (one of them) that means a lot to me and many may relate to.  I know Claudia does ;)

When our eyes first met and said 'hello'
my life's purpose was made crystal clear
Unfolding you I whispered so low..
'I'll not let you never fear'

Dreams were created in your design..
A sturdy nest so not to fall through
Proud to show off and say you were mine
I poured affection all over you

Your wings grew as did your confidence and grace
I in awe of your talents and esprit de corps..
humbled as your guiding light to show the way
I could not be your sail nor would be an anchor

My heart pendulum swung low and high
myriad times watching each tiny step
Felt new pain when you were ready to fly
You came home from college some weekends

I gave you away on your wedding day..
sat by your side when your daughter was born
I learned circumstances always do change
But you are my daughter forever morn

And though you belong to God and the world
and are not mine to keep..
I'm glad you are soaring high as a bird
for that I will ever happily weep...

Sometimes words are inadequate for new poets..
but as your friend and peer...suffice it to say ..
I am honored.....
            ..and divinely blessed
     each and every day..


My Mary at age  42

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Paper dolls..sour lemonade..

Today at we are writing about childhood memories...a huge realm of subject matter..

Young girls played in rows 
of Ladies' Mantel..
smelled of new hay and squealed
high soprano C
     rose lips pursed.. pretending to be movie stars
They wore hand sewn dresses..
played 'neath cedar trees
..ran barefoot..made mud pies...
played hopscotch 
in the same field where they caught 
grasshoppers in jars..
They drew pictures of horses...plucked daisy petals
They wound pastel ribbons 'round the 
maypole in May while 
the piano played
...gained many a skinned knee..
jumping rope..climbing high bars..
Among their best pastimes..
 cutting paper dolls..sharing a sleeping bag..
learning to tie knots..balancing on
a sunbeam..pushing each other high
on a swing..swooning to 45's
wearing mom's heels, dressing up
..making brownies..
running long and faaaar
They thought they might be dancers 
in the Royal Ballet..
even Miss America
..but the wrong way signs
pointed to factories..
where they ironed firm pleats 
with dry steam longer wishing on stars
Others folded diapers..
being still a teen....already daughters
of faulty design..
they were not meant to be amid bridesmaids
who flocked to the beaches 
of Bordeaux
..not to mention no accolades from an
Alma mater
Had they known from 
the beginning...that the pattern was set..
that their deep scars..
left by mixed messages and
conditional love they trusted,
would impede them, 
they would have rebelled..ranted and raved
They would have had the power..
..and would have denied the sour
they had they been fed 
from the start

Saturday, February 2, 2013

Snowdrop cinquain...

 the imaginary garden with real toads

My first attempt at a cinquain, trying it out over at  imaginerygardenwithtoads where there are frequent interesting challenges...the form is catchy, not sure I've got it , but fun trying...

Strict syllable count: 2-4-6-8-2
Strong title (important with such a tight poem)
Strong imagery (perhaps, even, an image per line)
Nature imagery, as in haiku or tanka (though I certainly vary from this!)
Juxtaposition or a clever “turn” at the end


Snow drops
peer from under
sleepy lids with blankets,
tucked in by rich warm soil,   
webbed feet skitter across the stage
first act

 cast arrives in order
of appearance in dressing room

colors rotate, 
performing now through fall,
playing rolls with no rehearsal
rain shine

 Front row
theater seats
 from snow drops' wide peephole;
best place to watch the finale

Light flickers..power outage..

It's poetic day at and Karen is hosting;  the subject is fitting 
for Groundhog's  Day, shadow and light, and to take it wherever we want to go, suggesting examples in fine art and literature..this was fresh in my mind;  I will never write like Lorca and my art history knowledge is confined..I can only admire and respect their work.  So free form (no form) it is...;)
.....there was a power outage at an interesting moment during the movie I was watching...I tried to recapture later what I remembered..

                                                                                                                                       the dreyfus affair
lamplight flickering..flicker..flick" interrupted..sputters..
"it involves our foreign policy".. off - on - "secret document"..
- off - on "Treason, Colonel Peacock!"  Darn..wanted to watch that movie!
Oh well...dark long?  resigned myself to bed early..the covers
felt needed...welcoming...I lit 3 candles to read by;
lap top not charged_
dark in all directions outside in neighborhood...recalling days when it was fun to play in the dark..
too tired to wait for lights to come back on...but, caution....
do not fall asleep with candles burning...shwoosh, shwish, whoo!
now,  pleasantly peaceful
only stimuli purr of cat next to me                                                                                                                              
the heating pad? .no electicity.. substitute for intimacy off, but...                                              
restorative rest is what I must have ordered subconciously..
and didn't know it....I'm out like the lights.........1 hour later...blinking digital lights..
penetrate  my eyelids..                                                                                                                                                                                              "save the army"...." France!!!"                                                                                                                     
TV audible from other room...
'Ahh....turning over slowly...stretch..all lights are on..
23:00..time to turn them off again..walking through house..switching off...
"you are hearby sentenced to life imprisonment and 300 francs fine.."....loud>>>>>>>>
lower<<<<<<<<;just much did I miss?
EmileZola.jpgTO BE COWARDLY!!"..adjust volume..."knighted to Legion of Honor .. a brave soul..EMILE ZOLA!...the conscious of man...thousands are safe and sound asleep under their roofs in Paris..."  -- turn TV off..dark again...the light and dark of history...myself, a wee bit more enlightened..