Weds Feb 8, 2012
whIte
whittling away the landscape
hiding colors from view
I ponder what it would be like
to have had to trek through,
egress across mountains to freedom
winding up snake curved paths
hiding in caves without the luxury of fire
I think of the time when my feet have been cold
trembling, stiff while shivering,
enveloped in socks and shoes riddled with holes
wrestling with gravity to slow descent
hitting every single stone with toe and heel
I refrain from shedding tears
time for crying will come when
echoes ring across new horizons
whine, how can anyone complain - those of us who
have so much - so the streets are not paved in gold
I want to wake from this dream
together with others - become a lifeline
extending what ever we can to help those still yet to cross
when will the dawn break
how can my sighted eyes see anything different as
I look out onto the smoothly sculpted hill and valley
together blended into one continuous seemingly
endless, undisturbed monotone - I hope for an early spring
JP/davh
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Flounder?
http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com host Brenda... Wordle #42
staccato, billows, dubious, dart, ruins, exile,
petulat, fuses, metallic, rebellion, latch, scar
Flounder?
Staccato waves hurled the vessel,
Poseidon waging his own rebellion
Against the metallic hulls of warring humans
This was not a petulant act by the
God and Father of the sea
The young sailor wished he were aboard
An old three master, perhaps in the crows nest or even
An attendant to the billows for an old cooks’ stove
Even with the latch secure, his thoughts about survival
This night were dubious
Coral one of many daughters to the ocean king
had a talent her father often respected...
So out of the wreckage and the ruins
The innocent young man was pulled -
Perhaps in exile he would recover?
Away from the exploding fuses of weaponry
The young man was dazed to find himself alone on an isle
Not far from a pristine pool, mirror smooth
Reflecting his face and the long scar now across his left cheek
He did not see the mermaid dart to and fro to catch the same vision
When will men cease there fighting all the merfolk asked
Each other in conversation round the calming kelp beds
As they watched the mighty ruler and one of his daughters
Swim hand and hand away from blood soaked sunken ships -
Share a knowing smile... not all had perished in that storm!
JP/davh
staccato, billows, dubious, dart, ruins, exile,
petulat, fuses, metallic, rebellion, latch, scar
Flounder?
Staccato waves hurled the vessel,
Poseidon waging his own rebellion
Against the metallic hulls of warring humans
This was not a petulant act by the
God and Father of the sea
The young sailor wished he were aboard
An old three master, perhaps in the crows nest or even
An attendant to the billows for an old cooks’ stove
Even with the latch secure, his thoughts about survival
This night were dubious
Coral one of many daughters to the ocean king
had a talent her father often respected...
So out of the wreckage and the ruins
The innocent young man was pulled -
Perhaps in exile he would recover?
Away from the exploding fuses of weaponry
The young man was dazed to find himself alone on an isle
Not far from a pristine pool, mirror smooth
Reflecting his face and the long scar now across his left cheek
He did not see the mermaid dart to and fro to catch the same vision
When will men cease there fighting all the merfolk asked
Each other in conversation round the calming kelp beds
As they watched the mighty ruler and one of his daughters
Swim hand and hand away from blood soaked sunken ships -
Share a knowing smile... not all had perished in that storm!
JP/davh
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Fair Trade Wimsy
for http://namingconstellations.wordpress.com by Joseph H’s Reverie #4 Lovely as a Tree
Sat Feb 4, 2012 Fair Trade Wimsy
He wants a story, perhaps one that isn’t even true
One that he doesn’t have to search for in the vast forest
Of information that I blinded him with on that first evening
That we met at the end of his uncles pier - the knotted wood
Telling their own tales of where they branched out and grew
And in their death made into a use to serve, as they feel they
Must, their destiny on this planet to burn or used, always to be used...
So then I think of his fairy garden, where in the spring snow drops,
Bleeding Hearts, and Daffodils allow bees to make sweet honey...
And I think of my sweet pearls missing the warmth of my skin
Carefully bagged in velvet to keep them safe - traded out for the diamonds
That sparkle like the stars at night - he says matches the twinkle in my eyes
He adds another log to the fire, and sits beside me on the love-seat
The very one his great-grandparents courted on...While being chaperoned
As young ones, I begin, with smile curving on my lips to say I am making this up...
We all at one time or another have to seed the oyster beds...
After all we have the smallest hands and fingers and we are ever so gentle
When we tickle those hard shells our sea friends know what’s coming
And yet they let us place one tiny grain of salt under their fine chins
I wonder what is the bigger irritation, us children or the sand?
He smiles, for he knows of my touch...his eye close feigning sleep...
JP/davh
Sat Feb 4, 2012 Fair Trade Wimsy
He wants a story, perhaps one that isn’t even true
One that he doesn’t have to search for in the vast forest
Of information that I blinded him with on that first evening
That we met at the end of his uncles pier - the knotted wood
Telling their own tales of where they branched out and grew
And in their death made into a use to serve, as they feel they
Must, their destiny on this planet to burn or used, always to be used...
So then I think of his fairy garden, where in the spring snow drops,
Bleeding Hearts, and Daffodils allow bees to make sweet honey...
And I think of my sweet pearls missing the warmth of my skin
Carefully bagged in velvet to keep them safe - traded out for the diamonds
That sparkle like the stars at night - he says matches the twinkle in my eyes
He adds another log to the fire, and sits beside me on the love-seat
The very one his great-grandparents courted on...While being chaperoned
As young ones, I begin, with smile curving on my lips to say I am making this up...
We all at one time or another have to seed the oyster beds...
After all we have the smallest hands and fingers and we are ever so gentle
When we tickle those hard shells our sea friends know what’s coming
And yet they let us place one tiny grain of salt under their fine chins
I wonder what is the bigger irritation, us children or the sand?
He smiles, for he knows of my touch...his eye close feigning sleep...
JP/davh
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Tall Tales
Weds Feb 1, 2012
Painting of tall tree forest by Ivan Shiskin via the Tuesday Tryouts at
margoroby.wordpress.com (Jan 31, 2012)
Tall Tales
Though my first and truest love will always be the ocean
I have had some time during the day while my dearest works
To wander beyond the fields and into the forest...
I am not so lonely here as I thought I would be
On my ivory stick legs, still wobbling from new birth
These ancient trees remind me of sea kelp towering, climbing...
Every reaching to get to and perhaps break the surface
Little does the green plant know the limitations of land and air
Though I suspect the trees would not fair well with a salt diet
And too the blocked sun through the dark shaded underside
Of the emerald greens helps me to cope with the azure blue sky
I wear the diamonds that my new husband has gifted me...
They remind me of the stars that seem to be the same
Over land and sea...a familiar map leading me to dreams
Of hidden treasure and the family that may pine for me
Yet there are hidden gems to explore in my new home
His families old Victorian with generations of flotsam and jetsom
Though through his eyes each item bears a tale worth telling
And I will sit with him after our evening meal
In front of a warming hearth fire and listen to his tales
And watch his face alight with the telling, isn’t that what a wife should do?
JP/davh
Painting of tall tree forest by Ivan Shiskin via the Tuesday Tryouts at
margoroby.wordpress.com (Jan 31, 2012)
Tall Tales
Though my first and truest love will always be the ocean
I have had some time during the day while my dearest works
To wander beyond the fields and into the forest...
I am not so lonely here as I thought I would be
On my ivory stick legs, still wobbling from new birth
These ancient trees remind me of sea kelp towering, climbing...
Every reaching to get to and perhaps break the surface
Little does the green plant know the limitations of land and air
Though I suspect the trees would not fair well with a salt diet
And too the blocked sun through the dark shaded underside
Of the emerald greens helps me to cope with the azure blue sky
I wear the diamonds that my new husband has gifted me...
They remind me of the stars that seem to be the same
Over land and sea...a familiar map leading me to dreams
Of hidden treasure and the family that may pine for me
Yet there are hidden gems to explore in my new home
His families old Victorian with generations of flotsam and jetsom
Though through his eyes each item bears a tale worth telling
And I will sit with him after our evening meal
In front of a warming hearth fire and listen to his tales
And watch his face alight with the telling, isn’t that what a wife should do?
JP/davh
Monday, January 30, 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
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