a haibun: Memory. Myself. New Idyll? (P10):WWP 163

http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/2013/06/26/prompt-163-found-treasure/

a haibun:  Memory. Myself. New Idyll? (P10)

Me:

The raging storms cleared... those green jealousy and red rage emotions

weren’t needed, those thoughts tagged as wreckage and debris. After a

over half a century as the landscape changed, security settled in and life

had become easier to negotiate and navigate.

Myself:

The sun was low but still high enough in the sky. Family visits were behind

us, on the last day of vacation I was thankful that the tide had gone out. I

wasn’t interested in getting into the warm ocean, I was  just happy to troll

the abundant shell line.  While he waited patiently for me, my beloved. As

long as the sea gifted the bits of coral on the Gulf shore, (some too from

the Atlantic on the first day), I could take it home and continue growing,

healing and imagining the best in life.

I:

Id knew and an internet search on line confirmed that coral was waste -

beautiful nonetheless. The skeleton build up over many generations of the

different marine invertebrates. Each roundish impression had once held

a living animal. Now those same depressions could become like knots on

a story counting rope... As she collected bits of treasure, she thought of the

old photos of her mother as a child, that her cousin gave her when they

visited. Found pages to add to the rich story of her book. The one that was

still evolving.

Eve’s daughter changes

from child, to sacred vessel;

full moons become poems

(c) JP/davh

*Id are the instincts closely connected with the body

idyll: 2. a simple descriptive or narrative piece in verse or prose.

Note: The prompt just fit so well with a flash fiction piece that I already wrote...

http://julesinflashyfiction.wordpress.com/2013/06/24/location-location-location-apo-june-24-2013/

that I just reworked it to the new ‘idyll’.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coral

IDeal *Board: dIce, cASt; gaME : WWP 162 (P9)

http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/2013/06/19/prompt-162-sky-dream/

Define a sky dream in words. Think of healing words. If words have power (and they do), write a mystical poem with incantatory power.

......................................IDeal *Board: dIce, cASt; gaME

floating in the ocean..................an abalone, rests.......................breathing in the salt

in the late afternoon...................within the concave bowl..............absorbing the freedom

slightly overcast sky..................of a clam shell,..........................of the ebbing tide -

play the game; I spy..................held gently by a hand..................peace in a vision...

an abalone, rests.......................breathing in the salt...................the sun is slowly setting

within the concave bowl..............absorbing the freedom................on the book of life...

of a clam shell,..........................of the ebbing tide -.....................still quite open and willing to

held gently by a hand.................peace in a vision........................add chapters without strife

breathing in the salt...................the sun is slowly setting..............opinions can differ;

absorbing the freedom................on the book of life....   ..............as long as true love

of the ebbing tide -.....................still quite open and willing to........abounds of self - the

peace in a vision...  ...................add chapters without strife..........only direction is: up

the sun is slowly setting.............opinions can differ;.....................an abalone, rests

on the book of life.....................as long as true love....................within the concave bowl

still quite open and willing to.......abounds of self - the...................of a clam shell,

add chapters without strife..........only direction is: up...................held gently by a hand

opinions can differ;.....................an abalone, rests......................floating in the ocean

as long as true love ...................within the concave.....................in the late afternoon

abounds of self - the...................of a clam shell,.........................slightly overcast sky

only direction is: up....................held gently by a hand................play the game; I spy

*board:

3. a sheet of wood, cardboard, paper, etc., with or without markings, for some

special use, as a checkerboard or chessboard.

5. Bookbinding. stiff cardboard or other material covered with paper, cloth,

or the like to form the covers for a book.

*Id are the instincts closely connected with the body

(c)JP/davh

Dining Alone: Margo's Tuesday Tryouts

http://margoroby.com/2013/06/18/poem-tryout-can-you-taste-it/

Tuesday Tryouts: Taste; bitter, salty, sour, sweet

Dining Alone

numb - left too long, the biting after rancid,

squeeze your our eyes shut to forget the foulness

that’s what might have been left of me after

decided the young chippy was more to your liking...

stained - scratchy, dissolvable... following the etched laugh lines

the ones you helped put there when you actually worked at; ‘us’

I wish you now a dried barren ocean with hints of

where an oasis has been - just try floating in that!

vinegared brine, dill pickles, juice straight from the

lemon - no sugar for you, purse them, your lips make them frown

my disappointment and regret won’t last forever and I am so

hoping you will live to see that I have healed beyond your broken promises

someone will find the lilting laughter, mixed with

the passion fruit - delightful and fulfilling and will want more...

some say revenge is a dish best served cold...

but I will not seek it because of you, though I may be keenly jealous now.

(c)JP/davh

(will also be posting at 'Longer Strands')

IDeate, IDem, IDiomorphic: We Write Poems 161: (P8)

http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/2013/06/11/prompt-161-recursion-a-remembrance-of-things-past/

(P8)  IDeate, IDem, IDiomorphic

so often left in the shadows

the child, too small to hear - yet

they were there; two of them, ears.

Often what wasn’t said

made just as much of a difference

as to what was said, shouted or slurred.

It was easy to

treat two daughters close in age

as if they were twins, although they weren’t

always the new kid in town

exceedingly shy, sensitive, left wanting,

unwelcome to tag-along, to be accepted for self.

How could a parent tell your close friend

that you were never expected to amount

too much -  when it was they who were ignorant?

Being second,

it was easy to learn from the first’s mistakes

and take full advantage of bending bent rules...

when is it ever enough

the heartache, the heartbreak

the defensive posturing, eggshell walking

When will all of their the screaming stop?

In their case perhaps never - and it didn’t mean

one had to copy that behavior - learn in spite of it!

Shallow breathing

calm and steady - quicksand, mostly is something

everyone can walk out of and away from even without help.

©JP/davh

ideate: 2. to form ideas; think.

idem: pronoun; adjective: the same as previously given or mentioned.

idiomorphic: 2. having its own characteristic form.

*Id are the instincts closely connected with the body

WWP 160: (P7) }i{ Metamorphos}ID{is

https://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/2013/06/05/prompt-160-metamorphosis/

(P7)           }i{  Metamorphos}ID{is

Birth changes things. Mostly birth gives us life.

Just being born is traumatic, followed by people you love dying.

When you finally end up at one end of the rainbow -

You get to enjoy life a tad. Start your own family.

Birth changes things. And all the traditions that follow in it’s wake.

First child, first grandchild...lack of sleep, self-time, adjustments.

Creativity is like that. One ends up directing energies to where it is needed.

Tapping into the ‘motherload’ of the Mother of Invention.

Birth changes things. So does career changes and moves.

Ideas along with supplies are fruitful and multiply - to a point.

You go from finger painting, to Den leader, being on committees - and

then you slowly learn to say the magic word; ‘No’ followed by ‘Thank you’.

Birth changes things. And it’s ELECTRIC! Hoist the sails, net the stars -

as you continue to explore the either world through your fingertips.

More adjustments as the nest empties and refills -

Over the river and through the woods to another rainbow’s end...

Birth changes things. That spark of an idea that keeps your eyes open

during the wee hours of the night - because that’s what you do when...

You write. Mostly for yourself, but are buoyed by those strangers

from all over, who have become your encouraging supporters and friends.

Birth changes things - out of dusty corners ID embraces Ego.

You become ‘i' - 'one’, and perhaps a little more whole.    }i{

©JP/davh      *Id are the instincts closely connected with the body