Fall, Joy, Lake Ann, Nature, Ozarks, Poetry, Prayer

September Gold

*{shared with @dVerse Poetics Open Link}

Once more
These late summer days
Unfold into glorious
September Gold

First Phase — SKY

Sky blues
At an all time high
Blue, blue, blue
So blue ~ I could even fly

Second Phase — EARTH

many harvest colors
scratch the landscape ~
old brown hardwoods
new roadside reds
bright orange edges and
yellow sunshine golds

just simple stubble
on these ancient hills
sticking out —
like an old man growing
a brand new beard

orchards sit
on both sides of the road
plentiful red delicious apples
ready for picking and
offering apple cider makings

Third Phase — WATER

summer droughts
have parched the lands
and stilled rivers
but now
from around the bend
over and across the cove
moving down river
Cyrstal Springs and
Sugar Creek waters
begin to flow again

Fouth Phase — PEOPLE

framed by tree bridges
campfires and paddle boats
new campsites dug in
tents and trailers
fill every nook and cranny

fairy tales
fly out of story books
stories abound —
cane pole fishing and
catching rainbow trout
for iron skillet cooking

tapping maple trees
for their sweet sugar sap
stirring up golden brown
home made country syrup

Fifth Phase — SPIRIT

And I . . .
watch each new sunrise
listen to the morning blue heron calls
pray for peace and some measured joy
with one step
walk out again
along these Ozark woodland trails
now through overgrown shores
waiting to hear the call to stay!

Once more
These late summer days
Unfold into glorious
September Gold


Poetry, Summer, Written for dVersePoets Open Link Night

Swan Lake

photo Swan Lake

White glistening feather stones

Lay upon solid grounds

Nesting underneath a summer willow tree

Whispering of time together

Held by heart edges

I’m skyward bound



Written for #dVerse Poets Pub for The Dog Days of Summer, Open Link Night hosted by Victoria Slotto: ” No prompt to worry about today. No form to comply with. Just wonderful words for you to play with, to enjoy, to arrange as you will. So, “…spread your wings, and take to the sky!”

Childhood, Poetry, Written for dVerse Poets

A Storm Is’a Coming

for dVerse Poetics – Time and Time Again, July 2 –This week host, Mary Kling asks us to reflect on the subject of time or on clocks, which measure time. Use the subject in any way you wish. At least use either the word ‘clock’ or ‘time’ somewhere in your poem.
Underneath a starry sky
With doctor’s priority orders
For plenty of fresh air and relaxation
I sit alone in my study
Framed by two leaded windows
Overlooking my English garden by moonlight
In this winter night
I sit in a frozen gaze
Frozen by some kind of time warp
Barley thinking with any reason or rhyme
With only fragments from a jagged mind
Pondering my future
There on the window sill
Sits my childhood snow globe
Figurines frozen in time
With their stories
Being told only by strangers
Gale winds brings the storm
Closer to my shores
House shutters torn off
The old house shakes
In a sudden moment
My Christmas snow globe
Shatters upon the tiled floor
Laying in front of me
Picking up the pieces
Figurines of families and homes
Mothers, fathers and children skating
I cry ~ How can I ever hope
To fix these pieces
Now scattered upon my floor?
Just as suddenly
The northern winds stop
A calm returns to my night
And the storm passes
Old man time offers me
In the wink of a sparkling eye
New hope
Reaching for a papersack
I place everything right
And I step outside
To find my North Star
Poetry, Summer

Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree

I’m late — I’m late — but this was written for dVerse Poetics yesterday – Claudia Shoenfeld hosting Meeting The Bar at #dVersepoets with today’s task: Claudia asks us to  “be a bit brave,mix things you wouldn’t usually like…

cats and petroleum jelly
ice cream and motor oil
raccoons and watercolor cakes
missiles and flower poets

…think about contradictions and serve them up boldly place things in an environment that doesn’t seem to fit have fun! – and season to taste! If you need inspiration – Charlie Zero by the way is quite good with this.”

Only you can remember like you do

Under the spreading chestnut tree

I stand with my white horse

Watching dreams come true

Among the wooden ladders and Coke-a-Cola bottles

Waiting in line with Zippo and Ford

Seeing blue skies and memories hung by steel hooks

And I waiting my turn

Hey, you want to try something new?

Fried chicken, now those are real legs to stand on!

Hey, you want to go for a summer swim?

Kayak shores, finding flower blossoms and apple cores!

Only you can remember like you do

Look the very way you do

Out underneath the old fashioned street lamps

Strolling down the vintage shopping mall

Standing with your music held high!


From Silver to Gold A Family Treasure

From the archives: Reposted for today’s dVersePoets Poetics
When you find (or think of ) an interesting item from the past, one that has some meaning to you, use it to inspire a poem in any way that comes to your mind.  And, if possible, share a photo as well.
A circle of love and held beliefs
My Mother’s Engagement Ring
Love promised to first one
And then another
Tarnished by acquaintance
Passed for ever more
From mother to daughter
A silver ring turned to gold
A generational love story
This ring of mine
Dug from the earth
And carried by Irish hands
Shared in lived stories
And found —
Riches of gold!

A Family Story: 
Stories I listened to while growing up as children were to be seen & never heard! Thank you for listening to my family story.  This is the first time I have tried to write it down.  Thank you Diane Bergin for saying I really should write this story down.

     My family ring was carried back from South America where my father lived after World War.  He traveled there to work for an oil field drilling company.  I don’t know for sure but I think it was for the new adventure too.  He was working on a oil rig and drilling a core down in search of oil and one day they pulled out what others have called an “industrial diamond”.  Dad had it cut into a European diamond cut and mounted in silver before he left back to America.

     Upon his return to Minnesota he was soon engaged to be married and decided to use this ring as his engagement ring.  Of course, I never knew the whole story as I was the youngest of seven children in my family, but he was turned down.
     Later he traveled and relocated to Oklahoma where he worked in the newly discovered oil fields.  He moved his own mom and dad from Minnesota to this “tent city” Seminole, Oklahoma.  There he built his mother and father a new home.  Before long, he was engaged to my mother, a nurse in this new boom town.
My father, Mickey Barrett in South America!
     Dad proposed to mom using this same engagement ring given to his first finance’.  Mom didn’t find this out until later.  My dad and mom had a huge fight when she found out that the ring had originally belonged to another woman.  Mom took off the diamond ring and threw it across the room.  Dad threatened to give the engagement ring to my sister, Mary Rose, but Mom said she would never get it until she was sixteen!  Dad picked up the ring and from that day forward always wore it on a watch fob chain that hung from his belt.  He used it all of the time to mark drilling bits, steel pipe, and rigging that he was welding.  Dad always claimed it as a “true diamond” — harder than steel!
     When Mary turned sixteen, Dad kept his promise and gave this ring to my sister.  However, mom was not happy about it.  Mary Rose didn’t wear the ring at all until she was at college.  Over the years, and after Mary Rose married she finally would wear the ring some.  However, not yet convinced to claim it as her own, my mother and sister would “trade” rings from time to time.  When they would see each other, they exchanged a ring for a ring always giving the borrowed ring back after some time of wearing it.  So the engagement ring went back and forth from mother to daughter for over thirty years!
     My father died in 1960 from an oil field tanker fire.  My sister, Mary Rose age fifty-seven passed in 1990.  Her husband, brought back several of Mary’s jewelry pieces that he wanted Mom to have.  He gave mother back her original engagement ring.  Mom accepted them with tears in her eyes.  After Pete left, Mom said she wanted me to have her engagement ring as even after all these years, she still couldn’t wear it. 
     I wear my mother’s ring almost daily now.  I love the ring and it really means so much to me because it is rich in family stories and has touched so many lives – my dad’s, my mother’s, and my sister Mary Rose.  I too hope to pass my mother’s engagement ring down to her grand daughter, my daughter, Melissa.  Rich in character and beauty these stories become our shared family history.