sharp winds whistle and
seeds clench dry
in tight fists
our eyes like bees roam searching
for sweet bright landings
When morning comes
and light returns,
hope’s feathers may lie still
but hear the wisdom of a child or
new leader with caring speech,
tromp through cool autumn woods
or cradle a late seedling—
that feeling of aliveness
(they call it ‘hope’ )
The new Quadrille word is ‘hope’. To find more poems using hope or hope-formed words, please prompt post.check ‘Mister Linky’ at the
Sorrel (s)peaks in early spring
before full thaw,
reminds a gardener,
wandering on winter legs
in mellow air,
there always was
hope resting there,
below straw and snow.
If you are like me you may be struggling under the weight of the United States Election results. These words from Merril D. Smith offer humour, hope, and determination to continue being the world we believe in.
By KUHT [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons
So the election has taken place, and the orange creature has been elected. HRC and President Obama reminded us of the rule of law in their gracious speeches. They reminded us to go high when DT has run a campaign based on lies and hatred, a campaign that has consistently gone low. They have been gracious in defeat, even though DT threatened not to accept the election results, if the vote had gone the other way. We’ve had eight years of class, intelligence, and caring, and it will take time to accept that many of my fellow Americans have chosen the opposite. It does not help when I see a ranting post by a Trump supporter (filled with factual and grammatical errors) saying everyone who voted for HRC should be put in jail. It only makes me think that I was correct in my…
View original post 286 more words
A patient kitten
waiting next to his feed bowl
has reason for hope
confirmed by experience,
love’s presence felt in absence.
This is perhaps not a traditional approach to a tanka poem, but these are the thoughts that came to mind as I contemplated ‘hope’ and ‘wait’ for Silver’s Weekly Tanka Challenge #3.
In cool forest shade,
Steps away from hot pavement,
I gaze up, pause, hope.
Yesterday I was drawn to stop on a county road to search for purple flowers that I have been seeing along roadways. The coolness was a pleasant relief–though the ground was bone dry and there were signs of dead leaves and grass starved for moisture. I love looking up into a forest canopy dappled by sunlight. So I directed my camera upwards to share the experience.
©2016, all rights reserved by ontheland.wordpress.com
Every spring fresh hope unwinds aromas soft and verdant tones caressed by breezes gently blown. Downy branches above entwined boast tawny lace and feather brush display of life's relentless crush. Hungry birds peck morsels of rind Ants rush in to gather and feed Meanwhile furry mold tendrils breed. Mountains shudder tectonic grind Homo sapiens slap, drill, frack natural gas to feed smokestacks. Droughts fertilize presence of mind Precious aquifers, waters fresh, prized soil cleaned for organic creche. Winds of change blowing bane behind Asthma lifts with less tar and coal Smog fumes thin with less truck petrol. World intentions yet to be signed When minds wed will actions follow? Could hopeful anthems ring hollow? Gossamer from a spool unwinds, Life threads its spiraled mystery, Spins mirage of eternity. This poem is an attempted "Constanza" in response to Jane Dougherty Poetry Challenge #26: Constanza. Please follow the link to learn more about this poetic form. © 2016, All rights reserved by Ontheland.wordpress.com