Writing Notes: Afternoon photo taken with my iPhone driving down Interstate 540 towards Bella Vista, AR.
Staccato fair weather clouds
Were but musical notes played
With quick and sharpened edges
Dancing over the day’s blue skies
Lines of sinuous musical notes
Framed my road’s horizon
And led me to an abrupt chorus refrain!
Glory be . . . .
*{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
grandpa
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
then
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
Once upon a hill
In the fresh Ozark mountain air
A Fall Arkansas rain lingers here
Damp on God’s sweet earth
Bowed bows encircle me
As I travel down Dairy Hollow Road
Transclucent green leaves
Make a large cathedral overhead
Forming arch after arch of perfect tree bridges
I look up to my sky and see
Only slivers of sunlight
Woodland trees and leaf shadows
Spin like stained-glass images
A raven flies solo
High above the hollow
Finding its roost along rock ledges
Clear Spring is mighty clear
No run here
Oh, dear God
You give us our day
Our sacred gifts
A treasured cove of earth and sky
All these wonders to behold
And even in my own meager wanderings
Each road I travel is framed and signed by you!
Set yourself free
Let go of hurt
Knowing
You
Are a loving spirit
You are called
To live and to grow
To love others
To walk this life’s journey
With joy and happiness
You are still you
Accept who you are
Embrace your inner self
Change is a part of the journey
And let yourself be happy
You are a gift to others
Don’t loose years by
Focusing on the past
Or hurt or disappointments
Forgive yourself and others
Rise above what limits you
Step into your future
And live now
Today
With a happy heart
God is
And always will be
A part of who you are
He is with you
He walks with you side-by-side
You are truly never alone
Listen for the divine
You are indeed held by
His loving spirit
Always and forever
I live high in the Ozark trees
Where golden pine tree warblers perch on high
And bird songs run rampant through tall tree tops
I live up close where I can meet the ancient sky trees
Adorned by white summer clouds floating by
Hallowed tree-framed windows to the top of the world
Where song birds build their nesting homes
Feed and care for their young
And newborns learn to fly
Leaving home to find their own home
Parents don’t wait for their return
Even in old age —
Nature has truly completed its work —
I live among new beginnings!
Day 5 — Writing with NaPoWriMo prompts for April National Poetry Month
This form was invented by Terrance Hayes in his poem, The Golden Shovel. The last word of each line of Hayes’ poem is a word from Gwendolyn Brooks’ poem We Real Cool
I am using The Sparrow from The Bible and then using the last word in each line creating my new poem for today.
THE SPARROW
1
The sparrow hath found an house,
And the swallow a nest for herself,
Where she may lay her young.
THE GIFT
1
The gift of coming home framed, by your mother the-sparrow
Something rich between you hath
Always noticed like a brand new penny found
Busily building a new Sparrow’s nest an-house
Even as the neighbor and-the-swallow
Finds a lovely mountain tree and the safety of a-nest
Sound the trumpets, ring the bells not for-herself
But the love given freely even where
It is never expected, in return she
And the love between mother and daughter may-lay
Golden crowns around her head and her
Own soul rises forever young
A land of ineptitude.
Love of the Word
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