I drink coffee and think of a handmade, blue cup that I used for decades. That cup felt right for my fingers and mouth. I remember being told how it fell and how the handle broke off while I was away. Were I home I would have tried repairing it (without success), but it was thrown away. I did not complain. One can always buy another cup, even a technically better one, like the one I am using now, handmade and blue.
I see wrinkles change the smoothness of my skin. They’re not like cracks in pottery. They age well or not so well. What makes them age well is worth more than the gold that I have heard some use to repair a beloved cup and it cannot be bought. Whether mine have aged well or not, teenage cashiers now give me the senior discount I didn’t even know existed.
COFFEE HELD IN BLUE
SUMMER HELD IN HEATED AIR
BLUE LIKE OCEAN WRINKLES.
Linked to dVerse Haibun Monday hosted by Grace with the prompt “Kintsugi: The Art of Broken Pieces”.
Photo: “Low Tide Atlantic Ocean” by the author taken at Myrtle Beach,
North South Carolina.
We placed our palms upon the casket’s lid.
He used a marker tracing out a place
Where we could write some parting words. We did
The best we could while scrambling for some grace
To honor with farewell one so well-hid.
What words we wrote no readers need to face.
Eventually our hearts will come around
Since all’s still good above and underground.
Linked to dVerse Poetics hosted by Paul with prompt “underground”.
Photo: “Indoor Plant” by the author
I am also linking this to dVerse Form for All that I am hosting. The form is ottava rima.
It sounds like truth. Perhaps I’ll find
Wonders on the way?
Dreaming leaves the world behind.
Truths come home to stay.
When I wake into the light
What seemed like darkness may
Sort through the shadows, cool the night,
Clear for endless day.
Liked to dVerse Quadrille hosted by Victoria C. Slotto with prompt word “sound”.
Photo: “Looking at a tree through its shadow” by the author
At first you sense a peaceful, cooler green
Than jealousy can fake within its eyes,
And then a calmer red with no disguise
That anger has to wear when it is seen.
When blue becomes delightful, sparkling bright,
Beyond what reason’s ramblings can achieve,
Then violet turns away from time and leaves
You knowing there’s no need to fear the night.
Linked to dVerse Poetics hosted by Michelle (Mish) with prompt: “Write a poem about something abstract using one or more senses”.
Photo: “Colorful” by the author. The photo was taken at the Chicago Botanic Garden.
I wonder what it feels like to pop like a kernel of corn? No matter how many times I pour a bit of olive oil into the popper, turn on the heat, drop in a third cup of kernels stirring about three minutes until the sound dies, dump the now fluffy kernels into a bowl and bless them with sea salt–no matter how many times I run this experiment, no matter how accurately I measure, I have no clue what those kernels felt. Some don’t mind leaving mysteries veiled. Some impatiently assert those mysteries don’t exist, but even they can’t escape the mystery of eat, eat, eat and then pop some more.
MOMENTS POP AWAY
WARMER DAYS MARK WINTER DONE
TIME FOR ONE MORE WALK
Linked to dVerse Haibun Monday hosted by Björn Rudberg with the prompt “consider cooking in your haibun and give us a recipe in your prose”. I have included my secret recipe for making popcorn.
Photo: “Popcorn Steps” by the author. Collage created using Google Photos.
Before the music finds a way to end
I hope these faithless fears would take a break;
I hope I’d choose to give more than I take
I hope to trust the present as a friend.
Before I tell a dream it’s time to rise
I hope its vision binds me in some way;
I hope to nourish it throughout the day
Until I find its truth in someone’s eyes.
Before my rhythmic breathing has to slow
I want to say I tried each given task;
I want to feel I hid behind no mask
Preventing any miracle to show;
And if my bucket’s empty when I’m done
I hope you won’t reject an emptied one.
Linked to dVerse Meeting the Bar hosted by Victoria C. Slotto with prompt to write a list poem.
Photo: “Yellow, White, Red and Green” by the author. Flowers on display at the Chicago Botanic Garden.
Thoughts will echo, bounce and shout
Like whispers haunt a cave,
Like cryptic nonsense thrown about.
I caught some I might save.
If thoughts would knock and say they’re true,
I’d welcome them today,
But does it matter what I do?
They’ve entered anyway.
Linked to dVerse Quadrille Monday hosted by De Jackson, aka WhimsyGizmo, with prompt word, “echo”.
Photo: “Open Door” by the author. The scene is a garden gate at the Chicago Botanic Garden.