We’ve been told we are at war
With a virus, an invisible enemy
But our nominal president
Plays golf and tweets erratically
Swatting at Titleists
Swearing at journalists
Embarrassing most of us
While one hundred thousand Americans
And it’s not yet June.
I am invincible
My bare feet meet the cool brown earth
And I know.
Sidewalks are for lesser beings
Tender skinned novices
As for me, I will stride with confidence
Eschewing the easy path
Embracing the dangers
One toe at a time.
Underneath it all
Down where the anglerfish live
Time stands almost still
No wind, no tossed waves
Just days of isolation
And gullible prey
Below the surface
In the realms where no sun shines
Light attracts, light kills
Discover Prompts: Below
We play at isolation
Without a game plan
The ground rules have changed
Practice social distancing
For the greater good
In this brave new world,
Every minute a bell tolls
We listen alone
A Facebook friend said she needed sheltering-in- place haikus. I was happy to oblige.
Several of my blogging friends write beautiful poetry. I give it a go now and then, but I really don’t know what I’m doing. It seems there’s more to composing a poem than merely slapping some words down on paper and trying to get the last word in every other line to rhyme. Go figure. Although,
Roses are red
Violets are Blue
Sugar is sweet
And so are you
Always makes me smile.
I want to share a favorite love poem by Pablo Neruda.
Translated from Spanish by W. S. Merwin
I cannot explain why I love this so much. Is it the melancholy? The imagery?
Is there a poem about love that makes you sigh? One that makes you want to stare longingly out the window while watching sunset’s fiesta? Tell me about it.
Peace and love, people.
Petals plucked in time
He loves me; he loves me not
Seek daisy’s wisdom
But choose your flower wisely
Odd numbers suffice
A garden’s bounty
Yields answers; questions results
How dare blossoms lie?
(After I published this I looked back in my archives and discovered another poem I’d written with the same title. The original is better, I think, but it made me laugh. It was bound to happen sooner or later.)
Carrying this torch
Searching for a man of truth
Even as hope wanes
Were you here today you’d see
Nothing’s ever changed
For all the world to witness
Naked before us
This love child of black and white
A color between
I bathed in gray skies
Then wandered on white beaches
Draped in cotton robes
In this universe
Gravity takes the shape of gray
All things fall to earth
I know a thing or two about dust
A Texas panhandle childhood taught me its sting on the playground
Grit-filled eyes and sandblasted legs
Days of dust
And tumbling weeds
When gray choked skies obscured and
Scouring winds grew teeth
I thought that was how the whole world worked
For our sins.
(I do not miss those days.)
Is there a better word than
For the way the sunlight plays through the trees, speckling the road?
Variegated is all wrong; unless one is speaking of yarn,
motley only makes me think of clowns or crews.
Discolored doesn’t work, suggesting there’s been a mistake, and make no mistake–
Dappling is perfection; poetry in shadowy motion.
Flecked? Checkered? Parti-colored? No!
Stippled? Perhaps. I could work with stippled.
dappled comes to mind first, when I crest a hill and see the canopy of trees
Filtering the light on a sun-kissed day, painting abstract patterns on the pavement
And peace in my soul.