Harbinger

Day Eleven of NaPoWriMo.*

Today’s prompt:
“write a poem in which one or more flowers take on specific meanings. “

And so:

Harbinger

You push through winter-hardened earth;
herald of spring, though
late winter snow lingers.

A peek of green, soon a finger,
then – when next I think to look –
the golden trumpet atop a slender stem.

Whipped by feisty winds,
assailed by torrent rains,
flattened by a boisterous spring, and I

speculate that you lost your gamble
in being first to show. But
you rise again, regal as ever…

defiant, daring daffodil!

daffodil


*National Poetry Writing Month, Day 11

Day Six: Ekphrasis

Day Six of NaPoWriMo.*

Today’s prompt asks us to
“write a poem from the point of view of one person/animal/thing from Hieronymous Bosch’s famous (and famously bizarre) triptych The Garden of Earthly Delights.”

I used a different painting, Franz Marc’s “The Fox” for my poem, but with the same concept of using the subject’s point of view.

Here goes:

foxes

Outfoxed

As cities crumbled in disrepair,
we watched from forest shadows,
not understanding what forces cause
a species to implode.

As flora died in poisoned air,
we retreated into denser woods,
left to fathom such machinations
that place greed above survival.

With no place left to seek reprieve,
we huddled amidst brambles,
hiding from blind ignorance
that sought to take our lives.

And then the whole world shattered
into a million pieces.
We raised our heads to face our death,
and instead were met with

blue skies free from factory smoke,
waters clear as young fawns’ eyes,
fish emerging from the depths.
plants burgeoning in replenished soil.

We snuggled in comforted embrace
as nature reassembled,
as order rose from chaos
under Gaia’s healing eyes.


*National Poetry Writing Month, Day Six. Ekphrastic poetry

Corvid

crow

You perch in silhouette on overhead power lines,
a black bird cutout from the gray-mottled clouds.
I’ve read that you recognize faces, and can
distinguish the friendly from the ill-willed.
I’ve read that you can even pass that specific discernment
down to your offspring.

And so, when you begin scolding me in raucous cawing,
I face you square on and remind you that I’m one of the good guys.
You laugh (or so it seems) and swoop down to the garden wall
where you observe (or so it seems) my every move.
When I return to the house, you will drop to the ground
and inspect the results of my comings and goings.
Perhaps I have turned up a tasty morsel from the garden.

You’ll return to your high wire and pose again,
black-on-black in silhouette against the sky.
And somehow, I take comfort in imagining
I have gained your approval and won’t fall victim
to a murder of crows.


dVerse Poetics: On Shades of Black

Lost and Found

spider and bug

The spider works quickly to get the larger insect wrapped within its web. The insect doesn’t struggle; it may be dead. But the web is in tatters and shakes violently every time the spider moves. I watch the action, hoping the spider secures its hard-won meal before the web gives out.

Progress is slow, and my attention wavers. When I check back, the spider is sitting motionless in its sparse web, and the big catch-of-the-day is nowhere in sight. Has it fallen from the web? After all the spider’s hard work? I am compelled to make it right, find the bug. Maybe I can stick it back on the web somehow.

I part the plants beneath the spider’s web, and sure enough, there it is. Still wrapped in webbing. Still dead. But… moving? Two small ants have taken a hold of the hapless bug and are hauling it off as their own pre-wrapped prize. I am too late. Nature has already made it right.

nature’s web pulled taught
broken strands and gaping holes
mend on, weavers, mend


dVerse Haibun Monday — Lost and Found: Nature’s Magic