Tag: Nature

Cruelty of Spring

(Photo by Nicole Hester/The Tennessean via AP) courtesy of Journalrecord.com

 

April,

spring,

green,

a time of renewal,

life begins, grows,

days warm,

April, the month of poetry,

inspiration to be found

watching nature as she yawns,

stretches, rubs the winter’s sleep

from eyes closed against the cold—



Then why am I cold still

this April morning

as i sit

and sip

coffee

this fine sun warmed

April morning—



It is—

The three children of Covenant school,

The nineteen children of Robb Elementary,

The children,

The children—

All the children who knew terror

in the final moments of life.

All the children who live

now knowing the horror

of seeing classmates, bloodied, dead and dying

on the floor of a classroom.



This warm sun heralds spring’s return,

life’s renewal, the earth’s promise,

yet I can find no warmth.

Prism






Image is my own





washed clean





in orange sunsets





drenched by





lavender sunrises





so the dust





and the grime





can no longer





cling inside or out





of a me





freed, freed





of all of you





I am the prism





of beauty





I always was





yet never was





with you





 

	


	
	






	
	

		
Winter’s Will
	


	

		

image courtesy of ALEX VASILYEV on wired.com





There is no understanding





how winter comes





for it comes in too many ways





at too many times





often when it shouldn’t





starting at the edges





creeping to the core





snatching away all the covers





driving out the flames





or





slowly, softly





almost tenderly





like a gentle, timid lover





will winter drift into days





as autumn delicately falls





little dip by little dip into winter’s icy arms





then a frozen world is made.





At times winter rides





with sword drawn





into spring





after life has begun





to wreck havoc on all things





green and growing,





make still all hearts feeling the flow of life begin,





at those times, winter rides





until sweated out





in the course of time.





Yet winter may freeze us solid





in the midsts of summer’s heatwaves





as we stand over gaping mouths of graves.





While some breathing in the hope of spring





as others live in winter’s black ice





suffering the bite of hunger and need





winter’s winter grows larger still





beyond Arctic, beyond talk of tundra,





or talk of some kind of permafrost—





but something too many know.





we will not end in fire





nor will we end in ice





in the end,





it will be the lukewarm breeze





of indifference,





the one to do us in.





 





 





 

	


	
	






	
	

		
Twilight Days
	


	

		

image is my own





days spinning faster 





now toward twilight it seems 





hours before dawn





 





years ago hours 





lived, died, born again screaming 





before twilight’s edge





 





watch the dawn hours 





spin, dizzy and drunk with years, 





into twilight’s grave





https://godoggocafe.com/2022/11/08/tuesday-writing-prompt-challenge-november-8-2022/

	


	
	






	
	

		
Plantings
	


	

		

Image courtesy of https://www.mutualart.com/Artwork/Green-grapes-on-the-vine-with-morning-gl/0F474D245DD85FB8





I tire of seeing memes about having a positive attitude and choosing one’s feelings plastered
social media.  It is no surprise our young people are in the midst of a mental health crisis when constantly bombarded with messages telling them, in essence, “The only reason you are sad is because you are making the choice to be sad,” or, (one of my favorites for sabotaging anyone’s self esteem) “You have a choice to make your day wonderful or not.” While such simplistic messages are well meaning, I believe they are sometimes extremely toxic.  After all, what if your parent died on that day? Did you make the choice to have a horrible day?  What if you go home to a toxic abusive environment? How can you choose to make your day wonderful? So before reposting those wonderful positive messages on social media, let’s all take a step back and think about what we are really saying to someone who may be going through something or in an environment where there is no choice in the matter but to feel what he or she feels. Let’s send messages that say it’s okay to feel what you feel and acknowledge it and to take time to feel it all,so something can be gained from it—a lesson, a positive action taken, whatever it may be, so we know our suffering was not for naught. Hence, this piece.






I gathered my despair,





my tears, my losses, all my grief.





Sat with each,





held them close,





let them dry,





waiting for spring.





 





When the ground warms,





softening, ready for tilling,





I will plant my despair,





sow my tears,





plough rows for my losses,





dig a hole deep enough to hold all my grief.





 





In the turning of time,





from the shrubs of my despair,





I will snip flowers and herbs





for healing others.





From the vines of my tears,





I will pluck the fruits and vegetables





to pile upon the table for all who need.





From the fields of my losses,





I will reap the harvest grain





to store for when a time of need arrives.





Finally, from the tree of all I grieve.





I will pick the sweetest fruit





of memory.





 





 





 

	


	
	






	
	

		
Hardened Earth
	


	

		

Photo by Jezael Melgoza on Unsplash





dry, drought ridden earth





riddled with cracks inches wide





forms chasms decades deep





 





layered in dry dust





rising as rain pelts away,





determined to flood





 





chasms, erasing all cracks





but this earth is too hardened





unyielding to any rain,





seeking to soften hard soil

	


	
	






	
	

		
Return
	


	

		

pexels-miriam-fischer-2671074





Weekend Writing Prompt #267: This weekend your challenge is to write a poem or a piece of prose in exactly 31 words using the word “Return”.





https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/category/weekend-writing-prompt/










I envy the monarch’s, the hummingbird’s arc of return, 
          infinite, eternal. 
My jealousy consumes as I have 
          no return, no cycle— 
Only the damnation of this linear thing, 
          finite, directionless. 

	


	
	






	
	

		
Endlessness
	


	

		

Image courtesy of Pexels.com





https://godoggocafe.com/2022/06/21/tuesday-writing-prompt-challenge-june-21-2022/





Todays prompt: Begin a poem with “endless”





Endless winds rustling

Through leaves baked a thin crisp green

By summer’s noon sun.



Endless wilting flowers

Reaping words of empty dust

Sands away meaning.



Endless hope sprouts blooms

In the dry cracked refuge of earth

A survival scented thing.


	


	
	






	
	

		
Spring Melting
	


	

		

image courtesy of southernexposure.com










Spring threatens to melt into us. 
Summer follows soon enough.

Birds will return, seeking seeds and worms,
Building nests for the young to come.
Will the birds remember the songs they sing?
Songs of summer, songs to mate?

Flowers will emerge, warming their petals 
And leaves under a brilliant sun.
Will they remember how to open
Their blossoms?
Will they remember how to dress themselves
In glorious color?

How can the birds or flowers remember
When the world walks a tightrope
Over the abyss
And sunflowers may never grow again
Tall enough to bow their heavy heads to God?


	


	
	






	
	

		
The Willow Trees
	


	

		

Image from Pinterest





https://onewomansquest.org/2021/05g/24/vjs-weekly-challene-trees/




 




In the stillness of days between,


The willows long to reach across the stream,


Breaching distance impossible.


Without the breeze,


Their branches hang in solitude,


Their leaves nearly tears,


Longing drips with want heavy in the air


Until finally—thunder—


Lightning— A breeze teases,


Limbs reaching,


Almost, nearly touching—


And then the wind begins,


Whipping one direction,


Then another, almost swirling,


Limbs, leaves touch


Across the stream


Solitude breached.