24 Apr 2011

All Too Much...

Excess? No, X.S!
Text-speak jargon for the young.
Mobile mania.



For Day #23 at Writer's Island and  Poetry Bus for the 23rd - snap?!

23 Apr 2011

Tension

A
dancer
stretches out,
clasping fingers
around aching foot,
pleading with tense muscles
to delve for more energy,
willing them to obey her wish,
that the dance may continue to flow
in an unbroken river of movement.

For Writer's Island  Day #23 I have chosen to write an etheree.  Beginning with one, the lines increase by one syllable each time, to reach a total of ten in the tenth line.

Late Edition Extra! Now it's afternoon, and more words needed to be written, so here's a Haiku for Saturday.

Image from redbubble.com
The day holds love-light,
residue of the morning.
A perfect pleasure.

22 Apr 2011

Seed Of An Idea

Negative
grows from positive;
sweep brush head's
created
as an artist embraces
dandelion dreams.

This has been produced for Day #22 at Writer's Island.

21 Apr 2011

Gift

The locket
lent a glow of love
to her world.
Every time
she fastened its golden clasp
her lips smiled "Thank you!"

Another Shadorma for Writer's Island on Day #21.

20 Apr 2011

Blue Nude

Original drawing by Jinksy
Night's velvet
envelopes woman  
in a cloak
of darkness,
but the beauty of her form
creates its own light.


A Shadorma (3/5/3/3/7/5 syllable count) for Day #20 at Writer's lsland , also linked to One Shot Wednesday.

18 Apr 2011

EGGsplosion?

Mythical firebird
in a sunspot spectacle;
a phoenix rising.


Tess at Magpie Tales has chosen to serve us eggs ready for Easter, it would seem, but like a cuckoo in the nest, they hatched into another kind of idea inside my head, once I'd whirled the picture and changed the colours...
As luck would have it, this weeks Poetry Bus Driver suggested the word 'Exploding', and I beg to be let off writing yet another ticket, after creating this one a little in advance!

#18

Raindrop universe
fills a cupped flower petal.
A Butterfly drinks.

For Day #18 at Writer's Island, and The Poetry Pantry

17 Apr 2011

#17




Spring tides strike terror;
unguarded shorelines cower.
Wave-mallets sculpt land.




For Day #17 at Writer's Island and linked to Poetry Pantry

16 Apr 2011

#16

Invisible in country dark, the birds
had pegged the notes of songs among the leaves,
like flower garlands hung on high to dry. 
In crescendo, sprouting buds full bloomed
then died as petal echoes touched my ears,
enchanting them with musical perfume.
The darkling mystery of night revealed
its secrets, as shifting moon and stars revolved,
and lit arpeggios with silver mists.

For Day #16 at Writer's Island  and linked to Poetry Pantry #45

14 Apr 2011

#14

 
Silk ribbon river;
moon-boat sails with star cargo,
highlights spring blossom.


For today's Freewrite at Writer's Island, as well as One Shot Wednesday.

13 Apr 2011

A Passing Thought On Things Past

The Dodo was an ugly bird.
I'm pretty sure you will have heard
that he is totally extinct,
no matter how much we may thinct
he shouldn't be.


According to the notes I found with this illustration, it shows an almost complete skeleton of a Dodo, put together from bones collected by Mr George Clark  which he found in a marshy pool in Mauritius. In front is seen a dried foot of a specimen which was brought alive to Europe at some time in the sixteen hundreds. Both foot and skeleton are in the National History Museum.

Apologies to One Shot Poetry Wednesday for this light hearted snippet on a dull day, which is day #13 at Writer's Island.

11 Apr 2011

Windsong

Summer breeze
blusters the daisies,
tosses trees,
chases clouds,
and echoes children's laughter
while it tugs their hair.


This is written in the form of a Spanish Shadorma, poetry which has six lines lines of  3/5/3/3/7/5 syllables.
It's for bkm's Monday's Child prompt in which she gave us this picture by Florence Edith Storer.

Vision

With palette and brush
the artist creates his dream.
A butterfly lives.


Thank you to Tess for another Magpie prompt that proved irresitable to me!

Zig-Zag

I am a crooked line.
I slalom throughout time,
till I stop at vantage points
of each remembered 'now'.
I salvage scorched images
as their embers flame
and burn each new reality
into the time-line of my life.

A Bug's Eye View has us following a strange route today to buy our tickets for the Poetry Bus! Let's hope she knows how to drive in a straight line, though! LOL
I'm having second thoughts on this one , so have decided to add the first draft of my idea, and then ask readers for their thoughts... This is what I wrote originally:-

“I am a crooked line. I swerve through time like a slalom, till my mind stops at a vantage point for the NOW I choose to remember. An ember flames and burns a new reality into the time line of my life. It scorches images which can be realigned, in straight or crooked lines.”

Then my Poetry Guru suggested using slalom as a verb, which I agree made more sense, as did his dispensing with 'my mind' by simply saying 'I', for who is 'my mind, if not 'I' ? Once more I thank him for his clear sighted thinking!

And I've tucked this into The Poetry Pantry, as well...