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.
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.
Good roots avoid the sunbeams.
They much prefer the dark
Away from light and sources bright.
They love the mysteries of night.
That’s where they leave their mark.
But leaves prefer the sunlight.
That’s where they dream to toil
And offer all until the Fall
To help their Whole stand true and tall
Then rest on peaceful soil.
“The roots are also incredibly light-sensitive; but in contrast to the leaves, they don’t like light at all.” Stefano Mancuso and Alessandra Viola, Brilliant Green: The Surprising History and Science of Plant Intelligence, Island Press, translated by Joan Benham, 2015, page 50. If you think plants are vegetables, this book is worth reading.
Linked to dVerse Poetics hosted by Björn Rudberg with “soil” as the prompt.
Linked to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads for their Tuesday Platform imagined by Marian.
Photo: “The Details of Blooming” by the author. The scene is from the Chicago Botanic Garden.
In my mountainous castle well hidden away
There’s my beast getting restless for lightness of day
And the blood that I seek must be innocent, sweet,
So delight feeds the brain and my rapture’s complete.
How I long that the travelers wandering by
Are so pure that they capture my sensitive eye.
How I long that they tarry so I’ll taste a bite
Of the glory of goodness lost deep in the night.
Ah, look! There’s a traveler coming toward me
To my mountainous castle all lost by the sea,
To the doom that awaits him whose way seems so sure
With a heart pumping love and excessively pure.
He is knocking! Let’s open the door to his death.
He is breathing but soon he will not take a breath
And then at the table aged wine I will drink
And the meat, raw and bloody, may finally stink.
But wait! My hand moves but it can’t free the door.
The traveler turns. He won’t knock anymore!
Have I grown out so ghostly my body has gone?
Have I nothing but fantasies I can put on?
Linked to dVerse Poetics hosted by Kim with the prompt “to write a modern dramatic monologue about a plot to do away with someone (or something)”.
Photo: “Fantasy Forest” by the author. The scene is part of a bonsai forest at the Chicago Botanic Garden.
These words are silly shadows.
When darkened ground forgets bright sky
And hints but it does not know why.
There’s something missing here.
Linked to dVerse Poetics hosted by De aka WhimsyGizmo asking us to write a postcard poem.
Linked to NaPoWriMo2017 Day Eighteen.
Photo: “Shadows of Reality” by the author.
“Those humans think our brains are for the birds.”
“They think they’re talking but they just use words.”
“Those idiots drove poor, old Jeb insane.”
“They trapped him once and monkeyed with his brain.”
“They’re uglier than humans often get.”
“Let’s have fun. They ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Linked to dVerse Poetics hosted by Lillian with the theme of “anthropomorphism”.
Linked to imaginary garden with real toads hosted by Marian with an open theme.
Linked to NaPoWriMo2017 Day 4 and I almost didn’t get it finished today.
The topic was motivated by imagining what crows might have thought of John Marzluff’s research on crows which I find fascinating. Given this research, I wonder just how far off I am from what they’re really thinking.
The acorn doesn’t worry much.
It wants to be a tree.
But if it feels a squirrel’s touch,
Then lucky squirrel. Its wish comes true
To run the way that squirrels do,
But on some other tree.
Linked to dVerse Poetics hosted by Mish with the prompt to write from nature’s point of view.