NaPoWriMo - Poem #7 I love a rainy night...

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

April, 7, 2014
NaPoWriMo - Poem #7
                                                                                                                                                  
The prompt for poem 7 is to write about something we love, inanimate.  Not sure I'll be able to keep this up for 3 more weeks..and do all the reading, which is expected to be reciprocated.   Also for dverse where we are writing about something we treasure.                                                                                                                      

I LOVE A RAINY NIGHT                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     
I love a rainy night -
isn't that a song title?
- when I most miss 
your cheek against mine;
On a rainy night,
in front of an amber fire,
I see that photograph 
of me and you; 
memories
Tiny moonstones
in a green velvet pouch -
I take them out, then
put them back again

On a rainy night,
swallows glide 
through the mist, 
sipping raindrops
I consider warming crystals 
of frost on the window pane 
scent of a newborn baby's breath     
I love a rainy night -
the light grows low;
whispering sounds of rain
become like champagne's
 bubbly overflow -
and I am hearing 
Auld Lang Syne

Mementos ...

                                   


                                  

A puppet is among my souvenirs 
dangling dutch boy blue legs, funny red hat,
strings by which he dances, moves his stray arms;

Eyes wide, jaw clacking, wooden acrobat,

I bought him from a man named Geppetto

Intricate black lace waves causing a breeze, 

hides a face or sometimes sends a signal 

Spread open or closed, while Tango dancers

tap toes, shake maracas, brass bells jingle 

A fan also among my souvenirs

Faded photos - mother, father, five kids
taken long ago in Old Mexico'
cathedrals, speeding taxis and trumpets
delicious sopa, pan and pisco 
fond memories among my souvenirs

                                   

Riding the northern train to Old Cape Cod

Met a woman in the food car, we talked;

she had known Katharine Hepburn, my idol,

built her theater near the old town clock

Journal notes are among my souvenirs

Wedding bells, long held passionate kisses 

kept Valentine card expressed love and joy 

He knelt on his knees and held my left hand, 

put a ring on my finger, sailor boy 

It too...
         came to be.... 
               among my souvenirs

There is an old song about this, but these are not the words...Karin has us writing something today that is repetitious over at dversepoets.com  

                                 

                                 

                               

                 

                                   

Of old LP's...

It's Open Link Night at   dversepoets.com ...

A familiar spotlight
beams down on me
passing ancient stars still aglow
Gravity tugs between the colossal hunter
stepping across the night sky
and my heart
If I sing from a mountain plateau,
build stairs for me to climb
I'll bring you armfuls of wildflowers
...play for you a honeyed cello
where safely therein his belt, you swing
on a middle star..

 ...and tell you revelations
of a changed world and time

Intercepted streams
of consciousness meet...bent vinyl time
softens, memories boomerang
from a favorite LP
Ah, your savior-faire,  my naivete..
a favorite red gown,
 spumy champagne
Still, you are the high road
I drive by the sea...
you're there beside me at the symphony,
and when I dine you are the
soupe du jour,
So once again won't you lead me
waltzing blissfully,
this time across the dance floor
of the stratosphere...

Old Cowgirls ....

This composition is in the huitain form introduced to me by deVerse  this last week;  also I used the "summer" theme for the month of August from another writer on the site...I hope it passes muster..I  know it's a far cry from the famous ballads and writings by countless before today ;}   Besides, Cowgirl Poetry,  genre all it's own, is very formidable.

~huitain~ usually 8 syllables, 8 lines in a stanza

Old Cowgirls...

Summers found us bridling our mares

Nuzzling for the bucket of oats
Ready for trails to lose our cares
Pushing back low tree boughs that poked
Riding through small canyons, back roads
Long shirts tucked into riding jeans
protected us from poison oak
Cowgirl hats provided sunscreen  

Water droplets covered with dust                          
clung to our boots and I wonder
whatever happened to my trust??
Narrow paths tall grass at shoulder
Turning necks in saddles under
skies that heard our dreams and wishes
what parents oft put asunder
freedom with a horsetail's swishes

Brushing my horses bangs aside
Buckskin coat with expresso sheen

Her appaloosa with sad eyes                                            
Laughing faces where big tears streamed

We were just under seventeen
Dismounting to drink cool water
Pink snow had fallen on lime green
To draw strength one day for fodder

Hooves dug in dirt climbing up hills
Rocky terrain met meadow lakes
Wilderness ferns and flowers thrilled
Grasshoppers, snakes leaped in our wake
Sharing feelings, goals, fears to sate
We raced, we cantered, walked slowly
Country nowhere else could equate
Twilight led us home woefully

Learning preparedness those day trips
Had quickened our first responses
So when someone loved lost their grip,
terrible things confronted us
We grew extra arms, took losses
Shared losing a sister too soon
Inclined to believe our horses
chariots waiting past the moon

by klr

The photo in the belt buckle is not my friend and I..there are none that we can find...