My blogger friend Brad over at Writing to Freedomis having a birthday today. If you haven’t visited Brad’s blog, you’re in for a treat. He takes beautiful photos and writes poetry (often haiku) to complement them.
He invited his followers and their muses to stop by. My usual muses are negotiating with a necromancer and outsmarting reapers, so I contacted a muse escort service and this is who they sent:
A haiku muse
I didn’t know there were haiku muses, but apparently, they’re everywhere. Just check your backyard or local park. My diminutive muse flitted around the garden while I packed a picnic. She wanted to show me a place called Silver Falls.
Happy Birthday, Brad. My little muse and I wrote these for you!
hidden glades of light
sift through mottled canopies
a glimpse of magic
***
fiddleheads unfurl
green curlicues and whimsy
crowning last year’s fronds
***
boughs of emerald lace
spring’s parasols catch the light
fragrant in the sun
***
old stumps die and thrive
nurse a woodland’s nascent growth
life cycles entwined
***
silver waterfalls
glittering with frothy light
rainbow in the mist
***
Happy Birthday to Brad from the land of big trees!
This poem is in response toColleen Chesebro’s #Tanka Tuesday challenge. It needed to include synonyms for Eager & Hope provided by Sally Cronin. It’s a syllabic poem called a Double Ennead consisting of 3 stanzas with syllables 6/5/11/6/5.
My goal was to capture the theme of my current WIP: The Ferryman and the Sea Witch.
The Sea Witch’s Bargain
Beware a dark bargain A craft of desire Conspired with the merrow’s silver-tailed witch Her golden-tongued harpoon Bristles with veiled barbs
She feasts on treasure-dreams Conjured from sea beds Her oaths, leviathans steeped in deception Plunged in mountainous waves She drowns the reckless
Or forsake her plunder Mortal in the brine A quiet heart surrenders to airlessness Clasping pearls of courage Deep in love redeemed
As we celebrate our dear story-teller, poet, blogger, and wise-woman Sue Vincent, I’d thought I would share my favorite book of her poetry.
Below is a sublimely beautiful poem from its pages, and my review. If you enjoy it, consider picking up a copy for own heart’s enjoyment. ❤
Flowers
by Sue Vincent
There were always flowers.
Orchids pinned upon a mother’s breast,
All lace and diamonds.
Long black gloves
And painted lips,
As she left, laughing.
A child who watched
As the door closed.
*
There were flowers…
Yellow tulips,
Cellophane and ribbon
A girl who blushed
As the curtain fell
Upon the stage;
She cradled them,
A first bouquet.
*
There were flowers,
Roses and lilies
White, in hands and hair,
Their fragrance mingled
With frankincense,
A ghost of awe and wonder
Finding a home
In memory.
*
There were flowers…
Rainbow hued,
Everywhere.
Greeting a life newborn,
With love and welcome,
Lighting stark severity
As a babe cried.
*
There were flowers…
Daisy chains
Around his brow,
Crowning him with sunlight,
In laughter,
In simplicity,
In love.
*
There were flowers,
Three roses,
Red as life,
Placed in a cold hand,
One for each heart
Saying farewell.
Too long,
Too soon.
*
There are flowers,
Heather and bluebells
Painting horizons
Still unexplored.
Pathways of petals
Laugh at our feet,
Inviting.
*
In joy or sorrow,
When the tears fall,
There are always flowers.
*
My Review
This collection of 52 poems by Sue Vincent is a gem. I’d give this book 6 stars if I could. It’s hard to put into words how moving I found Vincent’s poetry. The poems are free form reflections on the profound moments of life, the deep emotional wells of love, loss, and memories, the rhythms of nature reflected in our journeys, and the poignant journeys themselves.
It was almost impossible to pick out a few favorites, but I’m giving it a try: “I See You” is an exquisite poem about aging and the lasting echoes of youth that we carry inside our memories. “Flowers” (which makes me weepy just thinking about it) chronicles a woman’s life-stages in flowers from birth through death. Two touching poems are told from the point of view of someone watching a loved one sleep. They’re both gentle and heartachingly beautiful. “Just for a Moment” is a rare syllabic poem in the collection about the peace of love, and “Memory” about love lost.
Though the poems can be read in an hour or so, I would suggest savoring them. Highly recommended.
This is my last post for a few weeks as I sign off for the holidays. I wish you all a happy holiday season filled with peace, love, and good health. May we have a new year full of kindness and hope. ❤
This poem is in response to the image Colleen Chesebro provided for her #Tanka Tuesday Challenge. The poem is a garland cinquain.
Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday challenge this week was to write a syllabic poem based on a #PhotoPrompt provided by Trent McDonald, or a #SynonymsOnly prompt provided by David Ellis, using synonyms of the words “make” and “move.”
I decided to do both in a double nonet. My synonyms are “mirrors” and “turned.”
I’m delighted to welcome talented poetess Balroop Singh to the Mirror today to share her latest book. I just finished it and included my review!
Book Blurb:
I wait for whispers; they regale my muse. Whispers that can be heard by our heart, whispers that ride on the breeze to dispel darkness and ignite hope. I’m sure you would hear them through these poems if you read slowly.
‘Magical Whispers’ would transport you to an island of serenity; beseech you to tread so,ftly on the velvety carpet of nature to feel the ethereal beauty around you. The jigsaw of life would melt and merge as you dive into the warmth of words.
In this book, my poems focus on whispers of Mother Nature, whispers that are subtle but speak louder than words and breathe a quiet message.
I’ve read a few of Singh’s poetry collections, and this one is my favorite. Each poem is a gem, and though this isn’t a long book, it’s worth taking a few leisurely days or weeks to savor.
The 73 poems are divided into two sections: Magical Whispers and Whispers of Life. The poems in Magical Whispers have a strong focus on Nature—the mysteries, solace, and magical connections the author has to Mother Earth. A few of my favorite poems are Dawn Whispers, Magic of Senses, and A Moon Fairy.
Whispers of Life is broader in scope, touching on love, growth, longing, memories, and other facets of human life. Though personal to the author, the poems are relatable and insightful. My favorites in this section are My Words, Only Memories are Mine, and Muted by Time. Highly recommended.
Meet the Author:
Balroop Singh, a former teacher and an educator always had a passion for writing. She is a poet, a creative non-fiction writer, a relaxed blogger and a doting grandma. She writes about people, emotions and relationships. Her poetry highlights the fact that happiness is not a destination but a chasm to bury agony, anguish, grief, distress and move on! No sea of solitude is so deep that it can drown us. Sometimes aspirations are trampled upon, the boulders of exploitation and discrimination may block your path but those who tread on undeterred are always successful.
When turbulences hit, when shadows of life darken, when they come like unseen robbers, with muffled exterior, when they threaten to shatter your dreams, it is better to break free rather than get sucked by the vortex of emotions.
Balroop Singh has always lived through her heart. She is a great nature lover; she loves to watch birds flying home. The sunsets allure her with their varied hues that they lend to the sky. She can spend endless hours listening to the rustling leaves and the sound of waterfalls. The moonlight streaming through her garden, the flowers, the meadows, the butterflies cast a spell on her. She lives in San Ramon, California.
The soil is charmed, morning-cool, and damp from last night’s dew. Droplets of light embroider a rose’s scarlet petals, and the zucchini by the stone wall lifts its giant green hands to catch the midsummer sun. Warmth drips like a fountain. The trees clap their leaves in approval. I don’t wear gloves and my fingernails are caked with dirt. Today, I’ll plant another batch of wrinkled kale and buttery coreopsis. I’ll pick broccoli and make a bouquet of wild daisies to brighten my kitchen sill. The bees hum a symphony. As I brush my fingers on my jeans, the enchantment of the hallowed earth sustains me for another day.
Despair cannot bind
A spirit to hopelessness
A heart to darkness
When rooted in sacred ground
Consecrated by the Earth
My dad is in the hospital again, so I’m staying with my disabled mom. Nothing too serious but as always, complicated by dehydration. A sharp contrast to the weeks of drenching rain outside.
I have one more garden haiku to share while I take a few days away from the blog.
compliments of pixabay since I’m not in the habit of photographing slugs!
