Tag: Poetry

#Haibun: Desert Rain

My Garden: Mesa, AZ 2023 New Year’s day dawns dark, dreary, and rainy, which is so rare in the desert southwest. I stir from a deep slumber, listening to the uncommon sound of water dripping off the roof. These days, the calendar pages seem… Continue Reading “#Haibun: Desert Rain”

The Color of Hope is Light

“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.”  ― Plato Light bending, shaping, flowing into nicks and cracks of darkness impugned Both an unrelenting wave of briny ocean and a… Continue Reading “The Color of Hope is Light”

In Dreams

I dream each night of a small bungalowsomewhere in the French countrysideA place to rest on the shaded verandahto watch my simple life go by. I wrap myself in old cashmereI bought long agoin a quaint Paris brocantenever minding tiny moth holes. I tie… Continue Reading “In Dreams”

Meditation on the Sanctity of Breath

A flock of dreams feastOn ancient buried memoriesSuch lush, verdant, fertile browseNourishes my weary souland feeds my ravenous spirit Each sacred breath,A river flowing over stonesTrickling through pulsing veins~Air- precious tether that binds me~Forever to life Author’s Note: Hi All and Happy Memorial Day.… Continue Reading “Meditation on the Sanctity of Breath”

#Haibun: Desert Spring

“I would not sacrifice a single living mesquite tree for any book ever written. One square mile of the living desert is worth a hundred ‘great books’ – and one brave deed is worth a thousand.” ― Edward Abbey I love this time of… Continue Reading “#Haibun: Desert Spring”

Evening at the Lake

Day to night, sun to moon and sooncall of the loonacross the lakeleaving a wake Bullfrogs croaking their throaty songsamid the throngsflies dart awaycaught in the fray Shooting stars fall from the black skywe ponder whya hasty wisha swimming fish dVerse Poets Pub: Poetry… Continue Reading “Evening at the Lake”

Morning Serenade

Shivering leaves in morning breezeas breath forms whispering cloudsQuiet garden is still, creatures asleepunder warmth of fallen dead leaves. Yellow orbs cloaked in waxy greenon the gnarled lemon treewhile high in the lush mesquite,Grey-brown Thrasher sings to dawn. dVerse Poets Pub: Quadrille Monday

%d bloggers like this:
%d bloggers like this:
%d bloggers like this:
%d bloggers like this:
%d bloggers like this:
%d bloggers like this:
%d bloggers like this: