Looping

Ride.jpg

This ride’s worth a half hour wait.
Even longer, so don’t hesitate.
Thirty seconds of hell
Then a heavenly spell
Back in line, “Yes! The park’s open late!”


Linked to dVerse Poetics hosted by Lillian with amusement park as a prompt.

Photo by the author.

Counting on Spring

Bright Blooms.jpg

We are perspectives on what’s real.
We’re the ones who see it.
Anticipating what we’ll feel
While wintery fears conceal it.

Although it isn’t spring here yet,
Our fresh, green dreams will grow
And should despair let us forget–
Bright blooms somewhere will show.


Linked to dVerse Quadrille hosted by Kim from Writing in North Norfolk using “spring” as a prompt.

Photo: “Bright Blooms” by the author at the Chicago Botanic Garden.

The Safe House

Most people are blessed with incorrigible ignorance. They don’t see the lion under the table. They don’t see the goblins in their chicken houses. They don’t even have a chicken house and so they can’t see the devil in his details.

I tell them. They laugh. I tell them again. They say they’ll lock me up. I tell them, “If you lock me up who will protect you from the fairy kingdom?” They lock me up. That’s exactly what I wanted them to do. The last line of defense had collapsed. It’s safer right here. By nightfall someone else can worry about those goblins.

There once was a dragon who knew
That damsel’s effectively through
With her knight on his horse.
They had run off, of course,
Since there’s nothing now either can do.


Linked to Saturday’s Image Write #6 hosted by Bekkie Sanchez and featuring Jacek Yerka.

Linked to imaginary garden with real toads Title-Tale hosted by Magaly featuring Goblinproofing One’s Chicken Coop: And Other Practical Advice in Our Campaign Against the Fairy Kingdom by Reginald Bakeley.

Part of the Confessional Poetry of Imaginary People series.

Becoming the Wizard

Lake Michigan.jpg

There was a wizard once who knew
The way to let what’s timeless through,
Transforming what we thought was true
Into a lovely show.

He hinted there’s something to do
Then we could be like wizards, too,
But now I’m old, I hope what’s new
Just lets the warm love flow.


Linked to dVerse Open Link Night hosted by Gayle from Bodhirose’s Blog. I wrote this years ago after reading Deepak Chopra’s “The Way of the Wizard”.

Right Sized for Just Enough

The house I’m building in my head
Is either very small
Or big so it excludes no one,
An ark that holds us all.

But since I don’t know everything
And others would build, too,
That fancy house would have to be
Quite small–just what will do.


Linked to dVerse Poetics hosted by Sara McNulty with the prompt “DIY building”.

Photo by the author, “All of us fish in one pond”

Forest Bath

We bathe in wonders. Some manipulate aspects of these aided by theories of gravity or electromagnetism. I try to stand tall with shoulders back so I can breathe deeply which keeps my heart open to resonate with Whatever. I step off the street and enter a dense forest trail. As I move deeper into the woods human sounds smooth out into hums softer than the crunch of my feet on last autumn’s leaves.

Walking this path, I intend to pay attention, but I miss almost everything.

When I choose not to enter some woods, it sprinkles me with thoughts of regret. If I do enter, but pay no attention to anything, I am still caressed. Someday I might understand the rapture of every creature like that of the worms as they return autumn’s mulch to the trees, but, right now, I can’t separate out those drops of this forest bath. I walk. When the path ends I feel refreshed.

WORMS WORK WINTER MULCH
RIVER DRAINS AWAY THE SNOW
FOOTSTEPS CRUMPLE LEAVES


Linked to dVerse Haibun Monday hosted by Toni aka kanzen sakura (www.kanzensakura.wordpress.com)  who writes, “In 1980, the Japanese began a type of healing/meditation/relaxation process called shinrin-yoku (森林浴) or literally, forest bathing.” The prompt is to try this yourself and report on your experiences.

The Theft of the Bright Moon

I take for granted the bright Moon
The way I do the Sun’s clear day
And should I find that someday soon
The Moon gets lost or towed away
Or popped above like a balloon,
Would I regret it couldn’t stay?


Linked to Saturday’s Image Write #5.
Image prompt by korinrochelle.