The Quiet One

Traveling

Got lucky today, was able to write a new poem for the Total Optional Prompts group. Just a simple one for today. I'll look at what other members wrote tomorrow. Slightly tired tonight.

How to travel today?

When the day’s snow, as always
redraws the road into another part the earth.
When the white sky, has taken down the sun’s arc
and the trees have becomes a photograph.

Wondering, how does one travel?

When the will remains on the paper,
wanting to be a black poem instead.

Happy Thanksgiving

Hope everybody is having a wonderful Thanksgiving!! The poem below is something I wrote two years ago while turkey hunting season was going on. Trust me it's funny!

The perfect hunting morning
Sun shining like a new penny.
The sky is a perfect blue.

Yup, going hunt one of those
two legged orange beasts.
Don’t know if their meat
is any good for Mom’s stew?
But my, oh my, their heads
would look good over my nest.

Yes!! Going on a hunt today.
Perfect morning to bag one.
The wind is still and the air is crisp.
And like my poor wife, ( God rest her soul)
they won’t know what hit them.

Finally a poem for Totally Optional Prompts

Ah this good, I finally have a brand new poem for the T.O.P group. Techically it was for last week's prompts but I have been sick since Fri. So I never had a chance to revise it untill today. The second poem is about this week's prompt. A reminder, all grammer errors are unintentional.

Enjoy!

**

Starkness is entering the frame.
Too much like a dark prowler I face.
Without a gun to defend myself
and knowing I can’t pull the trigger.

Another tug of rain’s wind and the leaves
becomes the old dreams. Where I wish instead
that the leaves would curl into the dead trees.
Making them alive this November’s number.

Yet, it is November 1st and the starkness
is striping me down the first pink cell.
Now three crows have flown into the frame
and the old tree is alive again, in the crows’ time.

Tomorrow is the 2nd, and what will enter from grace
to fill out this quiet soul or bring silence to a quarter moon?
Now tag in the upward line of a black crow’s flight at dusk.
Not heaven or hell in those thoughts or future days.
More of a square wall becoming a yellow sun.

****

In a way- 

It’s good to live in a place
that’s not on a map.

Part of your life now,
won’t exist.

Half-Alive Tree

For some reason, not with my poems this week. I get this way sometimes. So I'll work on revising some recent ones. They always seem better untill I start hating them.

Glancing at the half-alive tree,
                   can’t say the words “half dead.”

When the leaves are groping for the sun
It’s because of life and not the hope
training it to do that, as if redefine its shape

Today, officially summer and why
is that fern becoming a fall yellow?
Rain came on Monday and the pulling thirst
can now stop, I should think for this hour.

Walking in sun, words and the notes of songbirds.
And today, who mourns their lost of love ones,
especially killed on soil not of their birth.
All the praise and glory don’t return the lives.
Slaughter like the stolen sheep, then left to haunt
the living who found them there and still must walk on.

It has all been said and written before this summer day.

So why did I write it.
Mea cupla -  simple for that.
To the unwritten God.

Who hopefully truer than the written one.
Then to forgive this sinner who on this day
forgot to care for her fellow walkers of earth.

I'll tried this too!

Thanks to Sharon I found out about a new poetry group I can tried. It's call Totally Optional Prompts . This time I won't expect too much out of them. I think thats what happen with Poetry Thursday, I expected too much from the group. I think I have posted this poem before but I not going search my blog for the post. If there's any grammar errors, they are unintentional. I have a learning disability.

Her couple thoughts, not mine
ascend into the strands of clouds
Parting from the Sunday’s grace
The sun ceases the light, except
for the thousands stars.

Where the feet traveled?
Have the steps chalk the marks
of corners and the street.
Or does this shepherd, now
have to located the lost ewe.