Life is Poetry

Poetry, for me, is expression and grace, it's storytelling and a therapy. As a rule my poetic forms are long free verse, where rhyme comes secondary to content. Often my rhyming pattern is obscure, appearing mid-sentence rather than tailing at the end of each line....

Full-Of-Thought....

Sun-splashed –bench, quiet end of the park

soft-sun deliciously warm

cushioning the mind

from park-noise muffled by distance…

still sodden by recent rains

rich earthy scents rise up to lift the spirit

organic matter decomposing

in myriad lush aromas…

Plush fluorescent moss cling tenaciously to fallen trees

herbaceous weeds flourishing along the waterway

Mother Nature whispering on the wind

...pause a while and I will sing

of birds descending from purple’d sky

in aerial ballet they swirl on high

swooping to glide on pockets of air

- they sky-dance for you, they know you are here…

Ignore the hustle and bustle behind you

Nature advised

pay those concrete boxes no mind

I am always here to linger with you

I worry about you, Nature scolded

so lost in introspectiveness you are these days

where is that nut-brown child

who ran riparian banks

laughter on her lips-

- where is that passionate maiden

who danced with flowers in her hair

stamping her feet to the bongo’s beat-

- too full-of-thought you are…

Soft as a sigh the wind settled in gently swaying treetops

silence followed… except for distant traffic

and the echo of children flying on swings…

- this Was silence for the suburbs

as good as it gets…

A sunlit smile played about my eyes

- the lips were slower to release a laugh, I admit

but the spirit still runs lush ferny riversides

and I am still known to wear a flower in my hair

on occasions…

…  and yes, I am too full-of-thought

and wonderings why

and why-not

…. and just because ‘it is how it is’

does that mean ‘it’ can’t changed, right?

I meander, I know… a sun-warm bench in winter

does that to me… perhaps you’ll join me there some time

when yesterday meets tomorrow

and dreams comes true.

***

However not all my poetry is long and rhyming, though.

I do dally with brevity when the mood takes me, usually in the form of Haiku.

The haiku is an ancient form of three line poetry, originating in Japan in the 17th century mostly as a terse reaction to the more elaborate poetic traditions of the time, although it wasn't until the 19th century that the form became known as haiku or hokku.

Typically haiku are unrhymed lines that evoke natural imagery, with each line following a set syllabic format of five, seven, and five syllables.

Summer unfolding

with the chirping of crickets

thousand and one nights

Haikus focus on a moment in time, illuminating natural visions

to create a sense of breathless wonder and wisdom.

Feather drifts gently

Howling wind awaits true fate

Embrace the winter

***