'Pine Grove'

A response to a visual writing prompt from Margo Roby (Wordgathering.)

 Ivan Shishkin Forest Reserve. Pine Grove.  1881

 

 ~Pine Grove~

I’ve been to this painting,

I know its every stick,

And stump, every needle,

The artist has put so

Painstakingly in just

The right places.

I used to be bothered

By its sheer realism,

I could not see behind

Almost a photograph,

A pine grove, that was just

That: a pine grove.

Now I’m older, kinder,

Less complicated,

I travel this painting,

I sail its seven seas

Of wooded land, with pines –

As masts – upright.

I think of ancient Greece,

The cold hearted gods,

The Parthenon, the war

Mongering Athena,

The marble stalks that shoot,

And reach the sky.

I see a flock of girls,

Slender and tall, in their

Sarafans, hair braided,

Stepping out of the dark,

Getting ready to dance,

Waiting for me.

Live for the Love of it,

The Happy Amateur

'Poem As A Weapon'

The poem was written in response to a writing prompt from Naming Constellations, Reverie Four: 

http://namingconstellations.wordpress.com/category/reveries/

I started with a phrase The shiny mithril that her heart surrounds and built on that.  Not sure if I did a little bit of what Joseph tried to get us to do...but I wrote a poem.  :-)

~ Poem As A Weapon~

Still searching for her roots, she never lost them,

She sprouts from them, spreads her leafy branches,

They keep her strength - her roots -

They know her weakness.

The shiny mithril that her heart surrounds -

The only weapon she can use against them,

That worded wonder - is her sole protection.

Without the words she’s intricately weaving

Her bare soul will be an easy target,

Her roots will reach her from beneath the ground,

And pierce her heart.

Live for the Love of it,

The Happy Amateur

'Passing'

 

‘Passing’

Her 

Mind is

Fresh, the anguish

Cleared, subsided once more,

As morphine kicked in, and

Started its cruel magic.

Her

Step is

Light, she walks

Through fields of frozen

Grass, that shocks her soles,

Startles her bare soul.

She

Longs for

Warmth, and soon

The flame engulfs the

Ground beneath her feet, alights

The grass, that’s born

Anew,

And burns,

The shade of

Youth.  She feels her

Body become permeable, setting her

Free, letting her pass,

And

So she

Does, rising above

Herself, the Earth, beyond

The darkness, up, to serenity.

Up.

Live for the Love of it,

The Happy Amateur

"After all, tomorrow is another day."

A writing prompt from Carry on Tuesday - a line from 'Gone with the Wind' by Margaret Mitchell:

"After all, tomorrow is another day."

“As of tomorrow I will start anew,

I will not waste again another day,

We’re parting ways, adieu, my love, adieu,

Pardon my French,” to my old self I say.

“But, darling, wait,” my old self chimes in,

“Have you forgotten something?  After all,

There is a rule for those who begin

A brand new life, oh don’t you recall?”

“I think I know what you mean, cherie:

I have to wait until a certain day…

I’ll wait till Monday then, thanks, mon amie!

Au revoir, I’ll see you soon!” I say.

Live for the Love of it,

The Happy Amateur

'Lonely'

Another take on the Tritina (a Poetry Form challenge from Poetic Asides.)

http://fineartamerica.com/featured/silhouetted-birds-in-tree-at-dusk-rebekah-mancino.html

‘Lonely’

Her shadow getting long,

The sunset nears, the night-

Fall follows shortly, carrying whispers

Of those ancient songs and other whispers,

Of times forever gone, and long

Forgotten, but waking every night

To teach their sorrow to night-

Ingales until the break of morning, when whispers

Die, and so does the long-

Ing.  For now her long night whispers.

Live for the Love of it,

The Happy Amateur

'Three Sisters'

A response to a writing challenge from Poetic Asides: Poetry Form - TheTritina.

 

‘Three Sisters’

It’s hard to keep the faith

With chances slim, and hope –

A dying candle.  Love

Is what sustains us.  Love,

Awakening the faith,

Life breathing into hope.

Soon burning flames of hope

Will join the fiery love,

And set alight the faith.

Three sisters: Faith, Hope, Love.

Live for the Love of it,

The Happy Amateur

'The Road'

Although wonderful, the images of different roads provided by Poets United didn't quite match the poem I came up with...  I googled another road, that I felt was in agreement with my words.

 

‘The Road’

I watched the road from my bedroom window,

A ‘stay at home’ type, ‘sit by the fire,’

I never ever really truly wondered

What it was like out there –

Beyond the bend –

But then one day I changed my name to ‘Pilgrim,’

The warmth and home I traded for the road,

The loss was meant to be, for what I found

Was my own life that lay

Beyond the bend.

Live for the Love of it,

The Happy Amateur

'The Place'

'A sense of place' - a writing prompt from Wordgathering.

‘The Place’

I find that people do not understand me.  They call me a city gal, they think I’m tough.  I was born in a city, but I grew up in a ‘place.’ 

It had tall buildings, and broad streets, and an ice skating rink, and a large hill with a winding river running below.  In winter the hill became a long, steep slide and we would whee! all the way down with bottoms glued to pieces of cardboard.  In summer the hill was covered in the sunburst of dandelions that made me – a kid with allergies – both happy and miserable.  

The place had an archway, and a sharp turn to the right, that led to a door.  And behind that door it kept voices and memories, scents and sounds, touches and tastes, and reality laced with dreams...  And that’s where it keeps me now, while a ghost of me wanders elsewhere.

Live for the Love of it,

The Happy Amateur

'Live for the Love of It'

An 'In-Form Poet' prompt from Poetic Bloomings: Quatern.

‘Live for the Love of It’

Live for the love of it, my friend,

A loveless life comes with a cost:

Those precious moments that we spend

With heavy hearts, are moments lost.

Don’t worry so, lift up your face,

Live for the love of it, my friend,

Slow down and drop out of the race,

You’ll be the winner in the end.

While sounds and sights die out and blend,

A loving heart does not know fear,

Live for the love of it my friend,

So you may see, and you may hear.

Cut off the chains, your soul set free,

True happiness you’ll comprehend,

Go have a son, or plant a tree,

Live for the love of it, my friend.

Live for the Love of it,

The Happy Amateur