She traveled in the natural world
speaking the language of chimpanzee
she soared where the sky pearled
the trees sang a noteworthy song
her mission in life a chorus of hope
finding in the forest a place to belong
each new beat vibrating in her heart
dedicating her life to care for the planet
encouraging others to do their part
her dreams were worth chasing
and the earth is worth saving…
What's Going On?
Hosted by Sherry
Never gone just transformed....
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| Equinox Valley Nursery Manchester VT |
No boo hooing here
resting in our special place each year
we gather to offer autumn fun
but, when the sun sets and the
harvest moon is at its peak
the orchard grows dark & cold
barred owls shriek
shadowy figures
haunt the hills
linking with dVerse - Bring on the Boo
hosted my De - writing a 44 word quadrille
incorporating boo in some form
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| Courtesy of Pixabay |
She grows weary in the journey
pondering why roses are thorny
her soles now worn from overuse
why do willows always sing the blues
walking sticks help along the trail
pondering, will truth ever prevail
dreams offer new paths to pursue
why do willow always sing the blues
deeper into the forest she walks
overhead soars the red tailed hawk
alternate direction is hers to choose
why do willows always sing the blues
linking with What's Going On? Weariness
For Susan's Prompt
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| Courtesy of Unsplashed |
The song, my paddle sings begins slowly
drifting in the morning breeze, freely
turtles basking in autumn’s golden sun
from an oak, a web glistens freshly spun
through the mystical lens one can see
magic resides in the old sycamore tree
perched high an owl, wisdom whispers
yesterday is gone, lost in soft whimpers
Hoo hoo-hooooo
splash, splash, splashing
dip, dip, dipping
murmuring secrets from the river
paddling faster with renewed vigor
each rhythmic stroke a labor of love
a pair of bald eagles soar high above
the song, my paddle sings is stronger
riding the current of rushing water
all around me poetry seems to flow
verses of life seem to come and go
in the wilderness of my beating heart
beneath autumn's canopy, I fall apart
finding harmony in nature’s arms
attracted to all its magical charms
whoosh, whoosh, whooshing
sploosh, sploosh, splooshing
navigating the natural twists and bends
the riverbed provides rest, a place to mend
in my dreams, I’ve seen a sacred place
weaving my thoughts, slowing my pace
the song my paddle sings, is reflective
mighty river baptism, new perspective
steering bravely into uncharted waters
my mantra, enjoy the wonder's life offers
glide, glide, gliding
smile, smile, smiling
Today, I am guest hosting at dVerse exploring the
poetry of E Pauline Johnson "Flint and Feather"
The challenge is to write a poem using "The Song My Paddle Sings"
as a springboard and using her poem as a source of inspiration.
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| The Sleeping Gypsy by Henri Rousseau (1897) |
untamed
gypsy spirit
thirsty for new life songs
sleeping beneath the desert moon
dreaming
linking with dVerse - Open Link Night
Hosted by Grace - who offers an optional challenge
1. Use the image above as a muse for your poem. Write an ekphrastic poem.
2. Or use the title of the image as a title or part of your poem: The Sleeping Gypsy
Thank you for visiting
form - cinquain
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| Courtesy of Pixabay |
Seeing through the windshield of change
sunlight seems to have lost its shine
a world where stories are rearranged
our direction seems hard to define
sunlight seems to have lost its shine
beyond the haze lies the mountain range
our directions seem hard to define
dreams of tomorrow now feel strange
slowly shifting gears ready for the climb
beyond the haze lies the mountain range
colorful trees their whispers sublime
dreams of tomorrow now feel strange
beyond the haze lies the mountain range
a world where stories are rearranged
dreams of tomorrow now feel strange
seeing through the windshield of change
written for What's Going On? Through the Windshield
hosted by Mary
Thank you for visiting and commenting
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| courtesy of Pixabay |
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes bring with it a sense of unease in the city. There is an air quality alert for vulnerable people. I notice a lone tree and contemplate its ability to withstand change. Surely, its roots are strong.
Summer’s sunlight seems to disappear earlier these days as the hickory and ash trees transition from green to a mustard hue. Soon the clocks will fall back. I feel the need to travel up into the mountains where the air is crisp and clear.
Perhaps, a higher perspective is needed to reset my balance as the season shifts and ease my wandering mind.
written for dVerse - Prosery hosted by Bjorn
For this prompt we must incorporate the following line in a piece of prosery.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes