Tis the Season

Victoria over at dversepoets.com suggests we write in the poetic form of "Synesthesia". If you have ever given a voice or color to an emotion or thing, this is an opportunity to imagination what you might write and give it a try. Check out what others have written today.















Shavings of sherbet served 

in morning clouds 

play in squinting stained glass 

sail boat skies

Markets below sell wares, fruit

cakes,  freshly brewed art for the soul

Gold leaf ladders lean against

invisible walls as I gleefully 

slide down a long curving chute,

land on polar bear soft,

billowy white drifts of linen, 

scents of pine and tart mulberry _ 

Strings of colored lights adorn each door;

 there stands a thin fiddler playing his lute 

for wars no more

I grab a fir tree swag, swing high above 

on an aerial merry-go-round_

all around town

My hair screams, hints of the midway,

life kaleidoscoping by

There, in a treetop of mint frosting,

I sit with an angel 

at the break of day

Trees bow low in meditation 

as I breeze through them on my way

Heavenly birdsong ties with ribbon

red bows to pin to my heart;

The sea is fully dressed in tinsel

Then with the stealth of a doe,

I weave textures of nature into

holiday mittens, frozen memories

of chunks of coal,

gingerbread images 

of red-cheeked children, 

in tweed hats, cookie size wide-eyed

Holiday bustle meets ancient shamans 

pedalling oils of penitence

"we are all brethren", 

say Myrrh and Frankincense 

And when it snows, 

the bitter taste of foes 

and woes of  yesteryear melt away,

leaving us perched on a mountain 

of purple heather,

overlooking a valley of rugged 

cobblestone where gumdrop

toadstools grow 

and say,"this is home."  

We are all in this together.

Wood smoke...

....yesterday began with
a purchase at a copying store;
after, I bought gas, and coffee
as an eye opener                                                                  
Driving then to the little beach
to find sea shells to make
ornaments  -
presents for family,
mussel and clam shells angels
with a glue gun
Then I looked above the frosty
banks of the bay;
two eagles circled each other in play
A sailboat's mast became their perch,
December's sun reflected off
their snow white feathered coverage
Ice blue sky heralded pristine farmlands
in the distance, pink cotton candy clouds
brimmed with sugar sweetness -
our winter's cold   creating clarity
Water lazily lisped ashore at my boots;
unseen currents carry the salmon below,
and the eagles, to and fro,

taking them wherever they must go

Then I came home to decorate the porch -
(oh my, the tangle in the string of lights)
and to hang a huge paper snowflake...
All done in short order, "Festive enough,"
I say, with the 3 foot tree in the window,
 "I'll take a break! "

There upon arrived a spontaneous invitation,
I wrapped a scarf around my neck and
put on my gloves and walked
 a short distance -
to a gathering place in the woods;
the light in the window welcomed me.
There stood an old tool shed; neighbors
 sat inside around a small wood stove,
Snug quarters - a tiny lit Christmas tree
sat on a shelf, next to old pots and pans,
 oil cans, barrels and stools to sit on
My eyes took in the old collectables,
tools, and a small frig,
my ears the radio's Christmas music
And while I listened to stories
(said to be based on fact, real and true ;-)
we drank hot toddies, just visiting,
toasted 'cheers' to the night, and
to the holidays.
 Warm and delicious the drink,
the fire and the company..
just us old hippies..
And so it went; now it seemed to me
a current was also carrying me,...
through each moment of each hour
 of every day, as it should be...

Today we are writing of hearth or home using familiar common speech...with Gay Cannon at dversepoets.com