A Song of Color In a Doldrum World

A scarlet blur

of stillness

upon a monochrome maze

of branches

from the bare trees skirting the meadow.

The song of color

in a doldrum world

waiting for the meadow

to join him again

in vibrancy

of new life and color

of the ever-nearing Spring.

Today I went on a hike with a dear friend as snowflakes were falling all around. In the woods, the red beauty of the cardinal stood out against the white, gray and brown backdrop of the trees and meadow. The male cardinal proudly displayed his colors as a mark of vibrant life in the meadow during the winter months. It was wonderful to just pause and take in his beauty for a moment or two.

I had heard about a type of poetry called Ekphrastic. It is based off of a work of art. I knew I wanted to write about the photo of the cardinal I had taken today so I figured I would give this form a try. In this type of poem, you are supposed to describe a part of the work of art and then extend your own thoughts into its underlying story. You use your power of observation to find the hidden stories in the work of art. I enjoyed the process of writing this poem and finding a hidden story in my photo.

If you would like to more about Ekphrastic poems, visit this site: https://poetryteatime.com/blog/ekphrastic-poetry

...Would You Tell Me?

Did you scream as fury whipped all around you?

Did anguish fill you as you were torn to pieces?

Did you weep knowing you will never be whole again?

Cause outwardly, right now,

you personify a strong warrior

surviving forces beyond your control.

Do you struggle to go on?

....would you tell me????

The other night very powerful winds whipped through my area. In the morning, when I peered out the window, a large tree limb had fallen and I could see the snapped shards of the branch. This moment in time combined with my current read, The Hidden Life of Trees: What They Feel, How They Communicate:Discoveries from a Secret World by Peter Wohlleben made me pause and wonder what that tree felt like last night as the forces of Mother Nature encompassed it. My wonderings lead to the writing of this poem. 

Fortunately, most of the tree still stands proud. If the limb was not jabbed into the ground like a vertical arrow right next to it, you may not notice the destruction. The tree will continue living each day. I wonder if it struggles. It will not tell me right now. I will need to watch carefully as time moves on to see if this loss causes the tree further issues. May it be a healthy survivor for years to come.

Softly Still

A silent

visitor

knocked at night. 

Barrenness

transformed to

beautiful.

Awaking

to a world

softly still.

I have been waiting all winter for this to happen. Snow was forecasted to fall overnight. In previous weeks, I woke up excited until I looked out the window and saw brown-gray grass and barren tree limbs. But, this time, I woke to a winter wonderland! 

Glancing out the window, rooftops were dusted in white as well as the black pavement of streets. The grass was a blanket of white and the trees looked like someone had dipped them in confectioner's sugar.  Everything looked beautiful. The snow had turned our bleak gray and brownish into a world of white brightness. The flakes had softened the world. For the moment, everything was softly still. 

Poetry form: Tricube

3 stanzas with 3 lines each. Each line has 3 syllables.

As a Buffalo Bills fan, I think the #3 was on mind this week and last so it brought this poetry form to mind. 

Hope is Barely a Flutter

The dreariness drapes over me

as my eyes flutter open to another day.

The gray gloom continues

as day has the darkness of night.

The forlornness feeds my soul-

No energy, no motivation, no umph.

The drabness is victorious

as the anticipated break from colorlessness falls in defeat.

Hope is barely a flutter-

How much longer until I feel aglow again?

Let's just say that the world has been nothing but GRAY. It has been days upon days of endless clouds ranging from light gray to almost black. At times, noon has looked like midnight out the window. This unending bleakness is taking a toll on me as well as people dear to me. The new year is not filled with energy, motivation and positivity but sluggishness and blahness. The colorlessness of the world around us is definitely feeding the unvibrancy of our lives. Even when the hope of predicted sunshine exists, the clouds rally and defeat the brilliant rays from shining through. Each day I rise hoping upon hope for even a small rip in the gray blanket that shows a brilliant blue and brightness shining through. Come on Mother Nature and deliver your gift of sunshine to my area. I long for it so my days can be fed by your warmth, light and hope. 

(The photo is the gray sky on this Sunday.)

A Silent Artist's Visit

 A silent artist

etches ice-

beauty on chilled glass. 

The winds were howling and whistling during this last winter storm. The bone-chilling cold could be heard as we huddled inside our house. The trees were swaying and bending but thankfully never breaking. The temperature plunged from 40 degrees to 7 degrees in a matter of a few hours. 

I was walking through the house checking on various things in preparation for Christmas. As I walked into the room where I was hiding gifts, I noticed some beautiful icy artwork on 2 of our windows. The crystals were aglow with red and white from the decorative lights on our trees below. The long icy lines were so thin and delicate. The smaller hash lines crossing them were of various lengths and looked like they had been carefully placed by an artist. This frosty creation in the corner of my window brought joy to a blustery, frigid, worrisome day.

Thank you Jack Frost for the magical silent visit to show me the beauty that could be found in today. 

Poetry form: Lune

The Lune is American Haiku. It is 13 syllables with 5-3-5 syllable count in 3 lines. It was first created by Robert Kelly  

Mama, Are You Near?

Mama, are you near?

A brand new world awaits 

And your presence bolsters my steps forward.

Exploring, playing, wondering-

Curiosity pulls me away,

Oh, too far so returning to the safety of you.

Today I had the opportunity to see Asian elephant twins. They are about 2 months old. It is very rare to have twin elephants so I had to take advantage of this opportunity and go visit the Rosamond Gifford Zoo. The elephants are beyond adorable.

The twins came into the enclosure one on each side of their mother. The first thing I noticed was their size. They were so small- just coming up to the knee of their mother. One or the other could often be found walking right under the curve of their mom’s body. It was a safe, secure place.

Once their mom stopped and began munching on hay, the little ones began to explore. Their little trunks stretching out to experience things that piqued their interest. But after exploring for a bit, both would turn to look for their mom. If they had strayed away, they would jog over to touch her side and stay for a moment or too. Then off they would go again with the same pattern- explore, play, check, return. The ever present security of mom allowed them to joyfully play and give great amusement to all the humans gathered around.

It struck me that we are very much like these little elephants. No matter our age, we still look for that touchstone of mom after exploring the big world around us. We share our successes with her but most of all long for the safety and security that only she can provide during challenging times. We stay in her presence for a moment or two and then bolstered by her presence, take steps forward into the unknown.

Poetry form: Cherita (single stanza of 1 line, followed by a 2 line verse, and ending with a 3 line verse)

The poem tells a story.

 

Thin Strength

                                                                                                    

Worn thin but strength within,

battle-

clinging

to 

survival,

battle-

stress

difficulties

hope

battle,

Strength within but worn thin.

On a hike this December morning, I noticed the sun highlighting a paper thin leaf. It had faded to cream and was the last leaf clinging to the branch. It was wavering side to side in the cold, forceful winds. It seemed a bit stubborn to me. It was battling all of the elements around it to cling to life for as long as possible.  Even though its life was challenging, it was using the strength within its stem to hang on for another day.

It struck me again how similar to non-human things we are. I know that I have felt paper thin at times, that one more difficulty or unexpected turn was going to break me. I, too, was being battered by the elements of my environment. I had to look deep within myself to find the strength to keep walking through these challenging, uncertain times. My hope, even though it was faint, that things would change for the better allowed me to battle against the stresses of life. I was worn down but would use my soul strength to rise again. This hope allowed me to survive and battle on for another new day. 

My hope for you is during those times of unending pressures and stress that you will find the strength within even though you are worn thin. 

Poetry form: Skinny

Here are the guidelines for the skinny:

1. 11-line poem.
2. First and 11th line have the same words (order can be changed)
3. Lines two through 10 contain only one word.
4. Lines two, six, and 10 must use the same word.