Daffs

You bowed with such sweet reverence,napo2014button1
your saffron head inclined
as I passed by, my dog at heal,
in early morning fog.

Startled by your piety, I10009872_10202694533796436_5608063311309472939_n
stopped in wonder at your
gaiety. Good morning, dear, you
seemed to say. And on I

went, he pulled me forward to my
blessed day and with your
daff’s good cheer, I carried on so
grateful for His zeal.

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Author’s Note:
For NaPoWriMo today our prompt was to write a love poem to an inanimate object.

Well, my morning mantram doggie walk took me past a lovely little daffodil blooming in a neighbor’s yard. So I decided instead of a love poem I would try my hand at, and I am even embarrassed to say, a little something Emily Dickensonish.

I’ll work on it.

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Don’t forget to stop by my post – The Big Poetry Giveaway 2104. I am participating and giving away two books of poetry – for free! All you have to do is leave a comment and a blog address or e-mail!

 

 

Our Native Ground

Bees no longer callnapo2014button1 as often as they used to.
Pausing in my garden I once knew swift winged
hums brushing the air, a peaceful path of earth
alive with bantam workers.

Ladies in painted scarves of apricot and ebony,
proboscis partaking in summer vintage
tarry less than seasons past.

Uninvited tankards of elixir spread promises
of verdant carefree grass, a vow never pledged
in this thirsty acreage. Bluegrass brought from rain
nourished country labors to survive,
cruel work for a foreign hostage.

Our earth,
our native ground
sends heavenward,

eyelash grass and silver beard
whirling, bending in the current

little golden zinnia, buffalo berry

milkweed for the ladies
beebalm for the bees

purple prairie clover
larkspur, tansyaster
firewheel and flax

bitterbrush when
heartbreak comes

mexican hat shade
for hearty celebration

black-eyed Susan’s
wide-eyed cheer

pink mimosa, a Sunday brunch
evening primrose beckons sleep.

Pines and spruce
cottonwoods and poplars
quaking aspen raise us
upward to the sky.

All have been given, placed
with loving hands
to feed and nourish,
glorify.

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Author’s Note:

Not using the prompt today. Spring fever.

Frost

 

 

Mere words dribble

a tangle of lace stenciling

the white page.

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Author’s Note:

Day 4 of NaNoWriMo prompt offers the lune, a hybrid haiku, developed by Jack Collum.

Three words, five words, and three.

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Don’t forget to  go to my post,  The Big Poetry Giveaway, and leave a comment and e-mail! You can win a free book of poems. Who doesn’t want a free book of poems?

 

A Lover’s Charm

A smile brushing across your face,napo2014button1

Snow etched limbs in Spring’s embrace,

Ambrosial jasmine curling up,

One woolen blanket snuggling a pup,

Two hands clasped in lover’s entwine –

Bring peace this day and a jug of wine.

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Author’s Note:

It snowed last night, a good six inches. Aw, spring in Colorado. What more can I say?

Day Three of NaPoWriMo suggested a charm. I’m charmed.

Outside my office window.

Outside my office window.

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Our deck. I didn’t get the pansies planted. Oh, well. It’s Colorado. Tomorrow it will probably be 70 degrees.

Baba Yaga

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My grandparents came from Slavic lands
melting into the pot. They shed their language.
Abandoned their memories for new fashioned
treasures. Hollowed out histories. Stories
wiped clean to become part of the whole
taught never to stand out.

They melted, sculpted masterpieces
wrought into slag filled souls.
I was left unattended. Unattached without a line
to draw me close, no chink for my inquiries,

I heard her muttered plot. Baba Yaga seized
my wandering heart. Herself a nomad anima.
With house on legs of chicken flight she lured
me close to forest glen. Her yagaish, puckish,
prankster plan now makes me hostage
in my true homeland.

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Author’s Note:

Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo is to write a poem based on a non-Greco-Roman myth. My mind went directly to a passion I have right now, discovering my Slavic heritage. Of course, Baba Yaga would be my subject.

As I began blurting my first few words, I was reminded of the fact that my family was not one that shared stories about “the old country.” I am only second generation here in the United States. When both sets of my grandparents arrived it was their goal to become American and drop, hide, or forget everything from Poland or Slovenia. So I grew up only knowing English and nothing about my ancestors. The only connections I have are a few pictures and recipes because my mom loved to cook. I was born after World War II and to parents who were the youngest of seven in both households. My cousins and aunts and uncles were much older and are long deceased.  So I have no stories.

Then popping up on my Facebook page today was a link to the Denver Public Library’s celebration of National Poetry Month. Arturo Garcia’s poem The America I Want To See is the featured poem today and fit in perfectly.

Also, I wanted to find a lovely image of Baba Yaga. I really do love this character.  I found a wonderful artist, Rebecca Solow, who graciously allowed me to use her image for this poem. Please stop by her site and blog to enjoy her lovely work. There’s another wonderful Baba Yaga to be found!

Finally, don’t forget to comment on my blog post, The Big Poetry Giveaway! You can win a free book of poems. Who doesn’t want a free book of poems?

April Fools

Listen and silent share the same letters.napo2014button2
I listen to the branch scraping my window

bowing to April Fool’s wind roaring
down the mountain spreading its chill

across the plains. Silent, I take a breath
behind glazed glass, rejecting the invitation

to join its dance. The wind pauses in silent
wonder of the declination. I listen to my

heartbeat pounding a melody commencing
its own gambol on this day of fools.

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Author’s Note:

Day 1 of NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Month. It’s almost midnight. I had to get something posted. 🙂

I used the Bibliomancy Oracle as suggested on the NaPoWriMo website for my prompt:

By appealing to a natural sense of fairness.
It’s in that spirit we appeal to yours.
           from “The Cove Hotel” by Carl Dennis