Edna St. Vincent Millay

No poem from me here today (I know. Strange, huh?), but if you must read one and you haven't yet, Monday's post, has my poem, Pulse, and a photo - I don't think it was too widely read.  Please bear with me if I haven't been to your site in a bit to comment.  Life is like a rushing wind around me.  When the wind settles to a breeze, I will have more time and energy.  But this week, I promise to reply to all who comment here or on Monday's post...even if I don't get dishes done!

This week we took a trip up to Camden, and drove up to the top of the "mountain".  Mountain is in quotes because we don't have mountains like other people have mountains.  Ours are considerably smaller for the most part.  But when you mostly see sea and forest for rest...well, we make mountains out of molehills.  But still, those molehills are pretty high up and beautiful.


Mt. Battie at Camden State Park has a stunning view of Camden's harbor.  If you are ever up in Maine it is worth a stop to either hike or drive to the top.

At the summit there is a tower, and a plaque honoring Edna St. Vincent Millay (more info here), who was born in Rockland, Maine and often came to nearby Camden. 

All I could see from where I stood

Was three long mountains and a wood;

I turned and looked another way,

And saw three islands in a bay.

So with my eyes I traced the line

Of the horizon, thin and fine,

Straight around till I was come

Back to where I'd started from;

And all I saw from where I stood

Was three long mountains and a wood.

by Edna St.Vincent Millay

The poem in its entirety may be read here.

For more poetry today, go to Carol at Carol's Corner and check out the links!

A Late Thought

I was thinking as I was lying in bed.  Now I can't even remember if it was before I fell asleep, or upon waking up too early.  But I guess it doesn't matter.  I got up and wrote down a couple of lines.  I did not do what I usually do, which is think to myself that I will certainly remember THAT thought.   When I finally got up for the day, I remembered I had written something, but had no idea what it was.  So, good.  I would not have remembered my thought in the morning without writing it down.  And I had been smart to just get up and jot it down.  The next step in outsmarting myself will be to have a pad of paper, pencil and flashlight...or an iPad that is still turned on and set beside me.  I am beginning to know myself and my limitations - you would have thought that would have happened years ago.  I still have to remember that I am like that though, for I will argue with myself about how I will surely remember THIS latest and greatest thing.  Then I don't write that something down, but reassure myself that I have that nugget tucked away safely for remembering.  And I never do remember it.

But I wrote this one down - sometime when it was still dark this week.  I left these lines on a document page on my computer:


Waves of the ocean,
Strong pulses of life
Breathe over the sand

And I'm going to think about it now and write more... because I remembered to write it down, and it must mean something to me.

Okay, finished.

Pulse

Waves of the ocean,
Strong pulses of life
Breathe over the sand
Renewing, embuing
These small grains of land;
And I hum to myself
With a small roar inside,
A thrum that refuses,
To quell the great tide;
The salt of my tears
And dried whispers on breeze
Soon bring me to
Fall on my trembling knees.

Oh, there’s strength in
The falling,
There’s power in tears,
There’s hope in the
Squalling of gulls
Without fears,

And cormorants plummeting,
Seals sliding to depths

 All to be fed
Of oceans great wealths;

And I sit here still,
Shiftless, sifting with hand
Where the pulse of my life
Is renewed in its sand.

by Donna JT Smith, © June 25, 2018

Colorful

It is Poetry Friday, and though I am a little late posting, I'm very happy to be here!  There's nothing like a bit of poetry to liven up the day.  So after spending a little time here, pop on over to check out more links to poetry at Michelle Kogan's!  (Oh, my word... I forgot to link and here it is just after 4:30 pm... I got distracted in the middle of it!)

Here is a rosa rugosa (beach rose) from in front of our home (near the beach).  I am in love with this rose.  It is the best smelling rose around.  Every time we enter or exit the house - almost all summer - we are greeted by their sweetness.

I have taken many pictures of them, and painted them a few times.  I'm hoping to get better at it!  They are so delicate and fairly glow in the sun!  It is hard for me to capture their essence.  I ALWAYS overdo them!
See... it's not even close.

I'm going to do it right one of these days!

Today, I am sharing a photo I took, and a true thought story poem.  Did you ever have this "wonder", I wonder?

Colorful

I remember
wondering
about colors,
wishing
I could
spy a new color.
Fluorescents
came into fashion,
and new crayon
names appeared…
I thought,
“Ah-ha!
I’ve never seen
these colors!”
But now I know
they have always
been there;
just waiting for me
to look more
closely.

by Donna JT Smith ©2018

Unbroken

Kiesha Shepard at Whispers from the Ridge has our Poetry Friday links today.
Have a beautiful summer day sometime this week!  Looks like rain instead of sun here today! (Whoops!  Sun just peeked through the leaves in the back yard!  Maybe it's a bike day after all!)

Unbroken

"I’m broke,” she said,
And laid in bed.
"I’m sick,” she lied,
And then she cried.

“I can’t do that!

I won’t do this!

Just go away,
And bring back bliss!”

Then as she tumbled
To the floor
And crawled along
To find the door,

She noticed she
Was on her knees,
And knew that someone
Heard her pleas,

Where all along
She should have been
To see her world
Brought right again.

Her smallness, frailties
Magnified,
Her being so
Undignified

Reminded her that
There’s a force,
A power of
Unending source.

And tapping that
She rose to see
That all was as
It’s meant to be.

No more broken,
No more sick,
No more lies
There is no trick.

“You’re right, you cannot
Do it all
But neither do you
Need to fall.
For there’s a light
And there’s a hand
To help you fight
To help you stand.”

“I’m broke,” she whispered,
“Help me mend.”
“I’m sick,” she murmured,
“But I’ll attend.”

She grasped the light
And saw much more;
She held the hand
To cross the floor,

And all her worries,
All she feared
Dissolved at once
And disappeared.

Once again
The sky was bright
And even stars
Came out at night.

by Donna JT Smith, June 8, 2018

Two more of my poems at GetSparked "Up on the Roof" and "Full Cold Moon".

Thanks, Tabatha!  After reading your comment, I went surfing and found this one, too...enjoy!

First Spiritual Thursday

This is the first Thursday in June, so the Spiritual Journey Thursday gang meets to think about a variety of topics and how it affects their spiritual life.  This month's topic is Summer.  I tried thinking about this a few times over the past week and a half and nothing really came together in my brain well.  I didn't seem to get a lot of minutes all in one sitting to really meditate upon the theme.  Then I looked up Bible verses with summer in them.  And that is when I began to be able to focus better.

Summer is a promise from God.
Genesis 8:22  While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease.

This constancy is promised.  We can count on the cycles of seasons and day and night and that summer will return in an orderly fashion.  We don’t get tricked into spring turning to winter, and then autumn leading into summer.  There are not days without a night between (though at the poles they might be a bit shorter or longer than on other places on Earth…).  God gave us the promise of summer as part of a cycle for as long as the earth keeps spinning and rotating around the sun.

Of the four seasons, summer seems to me to be the one that most resembles Heaven....perpetual summer...though without the humidity, of course.  As beautiful looking as winter can be, it is not “heavenly” or “heaven-sent” to me.  It’s a dormant, cold time, when most things at least appear to be dead... unless you like skiing or other winter sports...
Spring is new birth, and autumn is the harvest before the cold, dormant dead of winter sets in.  Summer is the realized potential of all living things -  which seems heaven-like.  Everything is awake, grown or growing, green or greening, and flourishing.

Summer is our promise,
and our warning to harvest and prepare for the promised winter.

Summer

When the butterflies

fly home,
And moths
no longer roam,
Snowflakes spritely 

take their place

upon my face.
Memories of warm

sun spun

as lace
I hold dear today.

For soon I fear

the silvered sands
of beach

between my toes

will slip away
And ocean’s white-capped
waves

will be replaced 

with towering drifts -

the rift between
Summer’s reason
and
Winter’s treason.
As waves sift footprints
from the sand,
So may the sun

release iced land.

And someday I will

come to know

The endlessness of

 summer's glow.

by Donna JT Smith, 2018

Check out the links at Margaret Simon's Reflections on the Teche for more Summer postings. 

It is Friday...It is June...It is a Blessing

A bit of respite in May

Over the past month... and a bit more... we have had one crisis after another to fill our plates.  They have not sunk us.  They have not taken our joy.  But they have taken great amounts of time, energy,  and prayer.  And I have joked that I need a big platter instead of a plate to hold my portion.  But then I set my plate down, opting not to hold onto it.

I think May deserves a poem to celebrate its ending, its tenacity and its victories.

May Be June

We were clearly tempest tossed
well before May had begun

But as patterns crissed and crossed 
there were signs of more to come.

We smiled despite the cost
as we set our course to run.

Till races nearly lost,
instead turned races won.

Now June arrives all glossed
and we're ready for the sun.

Can May's near-holocaust
be traded for some fun?


by Donna JT Smith - June 1, 2018


Reason to Celebrate

Celebrate!
May was great -
Great with trials
and tribulations.

Celebrate!
Cannot wait -
Wait for hints
of revelations.

Celebrate!
Why that day?
Day requires 
deep inhalations.

Celebrate!
In the end,
End rewards
all faithful patience.

by Donna JT Smith, 2018


Not a masterpiece...
but a poem that sums up May for me.

No, two poems for May.  It deserved at least two.

I am not going into the details of all the piles of garbage - but suffice it to say our daughter walked away with only minor injuries after her car struck a tree head-on, totaling it.  And that was a total blessing, setting the perspective straight on all of the rest.

I have not written a posted since May 5th.  I have written a little since then... poems, but for other stuff...it's been hard to focus on writing, though it certainly was a full month for thoughts, just no time to write them.
GetSparked 37 is underway, and I submitted two inspiration pieces - one poem and one art piece to my exchange partner.  Since May 23 I have worked on 2 pieces: one a watercolor and one a poem as responses to my partner's inspiration pieces I received.
I actually completed two poems for her image.  The first one I completed, then decided to keep it instead of publishing it online.  So I had to create another one.  My second one was a bit fanciful and literal, and I decided to go with that one.  Today is the day for completing the response pieces - which I have done - and we now have the week to submit our work to the website.  I'll let you know when mine gets up there later today - probably tonight.

And now I'm working on Tabatha Yeatt's summer poetry exchanges.  I have 5 poems to write in the next couple of months, so I am beginning the thinking and drafting of my first now.

Poetry Friday is being hosted by Buffy at Buffy's Blog.  Enjoy the twirling seeds of the beginning of summer!

Rat's Nest Infestation

Rat's Nest Infestation

nothing today

much more than 

to say

not sad

nor depressed

just empty

impressed

with each daily issue

no need of a tissue

  i'm okay

some sun

with a twist

of a key could assist

might unwind 

in my mind

this rat's nesting

invasion

replace infestation

with pure relaxation

yeah

that would be cool

with no one to fool

 and nothing

to say

except

 i'm really

okay

by Donna JT Smith, ©2018

Sorry to have missed Poetry Friday yesterday, though I did write this.  Good title, huh?

It was a mind busy day.  There have been lots of them lately.  I'm still joyful, and okay.  Just pensively pent up.  So many things I cannot fix for others.  It tears my heart.  I need to let go.  Breathe.

Now, today, I'm out for a bit on my own in SB wanting, waiting, writing for a story to happen.

First Spiritual Thursday - Celebrate

What manner of celebration is this?

Today's post is hosted by Violet Nesdoly who is encouraging us to share how we observe or celebrate a special day: Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, a birthday, anniversary...

I'm having trouble with this today.  Is it because often, the actual date for the even and our celebration do not occur on the same day?  I began to think about my conversation with my daughter about how it is not important that you see the person on that special day, as much as you celebrate with them when you ARE with them.

With families spread over miles and years, it has been difficult to keep things rounded up neatly to do what is expected in the expected time frame.  But as Christmas is not really December 25, and Easter doesn't have a set date... why do we care?  The important thing is that we DO care, just not that it has to be some particular day.

I celebrate every day the fact that I gave birth to two wonderful children.  I celebrate the fact that my husband was born, and that I was, too!  The dates are not the important thing to me, so we sometimes wait until it is convenient to make the more "public" celebration when it fits.

There are so many ways that I find joy and celebrate, that I actually find regular days to be more celebratory than an actual special day.  I'm feeling at a loss with this topic today.  Maybe it is the personal intricacies and complications lately, that make me feel empty headed right this moment.  Let me try a poem instead and see what comes of it.

Celebrations

I treasure ordinary moments

much more than special days

I want to make the most of all

avoiding hype and craze;

 I breathe in deeply when I see

the ocean or a tree

I look around and see the birds

and marvel how they're free

no cares, no need

to send a card

no deeds

beyond the yard

There's nothing in 

the nest to wrap

Nothing to state

 they're late for hap

A calendar does not exist

with anniversary, birthday list...

I smile to watch

the sun go down

and stretch on rise again

I stare at stars and peek at moon

while picking up my pen

to write a note, a word

or two and buy some Christmas gifts -

but "Look!" there snow that's piling up

where drafts blow making drifts

Then I want to stay inside

and watch it for a while

Or maybe go outside a bit

and build a snowman's smile 

Can anything be better than the

family gathered round?

Who needs to have a reason

for love and joy's surround?

Give me the dew, the frost, the rain

Give me a grandchild's laughter

And I will be happy celebrating

Well into the hereafter. 

by Donna JT Smith, 5/3/2018

Okay that's what came out. Maybe I'll read it!  Then perhaps I'll edit it someday, or maybe add to it.  But I THINK that addresses how I'm feeling right now, if it doesn't address the actual topic.  I apologize.  God's goodness is so finely wrapped around my life and my surroundings that I have trouble sometimes isolating the spots.  And we just don't put much emphasis on celebrations.  We are not organizers of fun.  Fun just is.  Goodness, that just made me smile!  Fun just is.  Celebrations are all around all the time.  Well, if this didn't speak to the topic or to you, it is A-Ohhh-Kay! because it was another little celebration for me all on its own! LOL!
You have a great day!  I'm gonna have me another great day!

Yesterday we celebrated 80+ degrees in Maine by taking the motorcycle for it's first spin...off to the beach!  Hopefully, tomorrow my husband will be on his bike, too.

Woo-hoo!

May 1 Day 1

Yesterday we drove down the road to the beach.  It was a spectacular afternoon, and just the right air to clear the head of all that was cluttering and muddling thoughts.

Shadows of Roses to Come

As breezes blow

They take the snows

Crisp shadows grow -

Slow by rows

The full of green

begins to show

Till soon

All
know
the sweet

 of roses.

by Donna JT Smith, 5/2/2018

It is May

May

I've always liked the sound of that.  Short.  Rhymes with lots of words...even ballet and buffet; José and olé; relay and ándale...just to name a few of the less used ones.

It's a long month - one that finally, in Maine anyway, gives us the spring we were hoping to see - the one that everyone else has been exclaiming over for two months now it seems.

Ah, May.  I have created a tissue art on canvas for today.  May Day.  I remember when we used to make a May basket and filled it with Mayflowers that we picked, then hung it on a doorknob, knocked and ran away.  If the recipient caught you they could hug you and give you a kiss.  I guess, depending on whose doorknob you hung it, you would either run quickly or slowly.  We were pretty speedy when we hung it on the doorknob at Mrs. Russell's house.  But we'd hide to see her smile!

When?

There will be flowers

I have no doubt,

But when they'll bloom

God figures out.

by Donna JT Smith, 5/1/2018

Z is for Zuchini and ZaniLa Rhyme

I'm Going to Miss This

Z???
What????
It's the last day???
Tomorrow is M-A-Y?????
Where has the time gone?
I'm going to miss this.
Now I'll have to do dishes
and laundry
and comb my hair...
sigh.
It just won't be
the same
Without a form
to tame.
I'll probably get over it.


This month I have been participating in the A to Z Challenge and incorporating National Poetry Month
by writing a poem each day.
There has also been a poem growing one poet at a time with the Progressive Poem - check out the ending today at Dori Reads.

Today's letter for the AtoZ is Z.  I have spent the past year-ish taking pictures of Maine vanity plates on cars in parking lots in Maine.  This year each poem form also begins with the same letter.  I found 2 Maine vanity plates for today, and chose a ZaniLa Rhyme for ZUCHINI.

The ZaniLa Rhyme, a form created by Laura Lamarca. The rhyme scheme is abcb, with a syllable count 

of 9/7/9/9. Line 3 contains an internal rhyme and is repeated in each odd numbered stanza. 

Even stanzas contain the same line but reversed phrases of internal rhyme. 

It has a minimum of 3 stanzas. 

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Zucchini 

O, vegetable beneath verdant leaves,
Zucchini so prolific
Amazingly you grow, where I sow -
I guess that’s not so scientific...

Impersonator of cucumber
With very subtle flavor
Where I sow, amazingly you grow,
No green thumb of mine in your favor!

You hide in plain sight in the garden
A bit of a green recluse!
Amazingly you grow, where I sow -
Under cover your number’s profuse.

You start out so smallish and cute
Poof!  Next day you’re gigantic!
Where I sow, amazingly you grow,
By August I’m zucchini frantic!

Next spring I’ll plant tomatoes and corn
No magical zucchini
Amazingly you grow where I sow;
You’re an amazing green Houdini!

by Donna JT Smith © 2012

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

This one ALMOST made the cut... But zucchini was easier for this format!  But back in 2012 I did write a poem for Z that fits it.  Here is an oldy for the last day of the AtoZ:

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Zip zap zing
Who says z's are not the thing
To make a poem sing?
Zombie, zilch, zits
These are just the pits,
But zooming, zesty, zealous
make plainer words
Quite jealous.
And then you always have
The z that's in the middle
Wizard, lizard, drizzle.
Pizza, razzed and fizzle
And if that's not enough, friend
You have them at the end then
Like whiz and fizz and jazz
Which give this poetic spaz
 Some dazzling razzmatazz! 

 © 2012, Donna JT Smith

It has been a fun month of reading and writing!  Thanks to everyone who has visited my blog and special thanks to those who have taken the time to comment.  I do appreciate it!  And immense thanks to those who now follow me.  I hope we can continue to be blogger buddies!  Best of luck in your writing this year!

See you next year Alphabet! 

Y is for YA YA and a Yadu

I am participating in the A to Z Challenge this month, and today's letter is V.
Click here for the list of blogs participating.

I have spent the past year-ish taking pictures of Maine vanity plates when I encountered them - most all in shopping center parking lots.

I am writing a poem for each one, and this year the poem form begins with the same letter.  I found 4 Maine vanity plates for today that begin with Y, and I chose to write a Yadu or Yatu.

The yadu (also spelled ya-du and yatu) is a Burmese form of poetry which consists of up to three stanzas of five lines. The first four lines of a stanza have four syllables each, but the fifth line can have 5, 7, 9 , or 11 syllables. A yadu should contain references to the seasons.
It has a climbing rhyme. The rhyme is on the fourth, third, and second syllables of both the first three lines and the last three lines.

---A 

--A-

-A-B 

--B-

-B---

This was not an easy pattern to follow.  I had to keep the format right in front of me for the whole time.  Now it seems not as difficult to remember, but it is hard to keep the flow with this pattern.
It IS done, though!  Yah, yah - ya ya - yeah, yeah, yay!

Almost

Almost summah!
Oh, yah, yah, yay!
Not fah, ya know
Till this snowin’
Stops blowin’ and tulips pop!

Then comes the sneeze
Caused by breeze through
The trees and grass;
Pollens pass by
En masse to nasal passage.

Almost summah!
Oh, yah, yah, yay!
Not fah, ya know
To nose blowin’
eyes flowin’ and tissues pop!

by Donna JT Smith, ©2018

These were all fun plates!

I can't believe tomorrow is Z - Z last day of A to Z!

X is for XLCIOR

It is Poetry Friday, so you can read lots and lots of poems today.  Stop by to check out the links left with our hostess today, Irene Latham, at Live Your Poem.

The Progressive Poem has been "growing and growing", too!  It is nearing its conclusion...

Buffy Silverman has the next line at - Buffy's Blog!  Go check it out!

I am participating in the A to Z Challenge this month, and today's letter is X.

Click here for the list of blogs participating.

 

I have spent the past year-ish taking pictures of Maine vanity plates when I encountered them - most all in shopping center parking lots.  I am writing a poem for each one, and this year the poem form begins with the same letter.  I found 1 Maine vanity plate for today, and chose a HexSonnetta - the closest I could come to X for a poem format.

A HexSonnetta has two six-line stanzas and a finishing rhyming couplet.  Its rhyme scheme is
of iambic trimeter per line.  The first stanza is the theme of the poem, with the second stanza changes the tone of the poem, to introduce a new aspect or give added details. The final couplet can be either a summary or the resolution to a problem presented. It should tie together the whole, maybe appear as a “twist” at the end.

I was so excited to find this butterfly to go with my plate!
Callicore excelsior, the superb numberwing or excelsior eighty-eight, is a species of butterfly of the family Nymphalidae. It is found in Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Brazil, and Bolivia.^[2]
Adults are black on the upper surface of the wings, with a metallic deep blue sheen on the hindwings, and a broad arc of orange or red on the forewings.

Excelsior - topside

Excelsior - underneath

Excelsior

It flutter-floats forward

on any wispy breeze

any way it pleases

zigging-zagging onward

through the summer upward

clear to the tops of trees

Then ignoring flower

becoming intrusive

seeks salts so elusive

taste for salt or sour
to replenish power -
finds humans condusive.

It's here for a season -
And add to the reason.

by Donna JT Smith, ©2018

*I totally forgot the last line on this stanza.  I had to redo that stanza, even though I liked it as was!  I found more info that I want to incorporate.

W is for Wolf and Wedge Verse

I am participating in the A to Z Challenge this month, and today's letter is T.

Click here for the list of blogs participating.

I wrote a Wedge verse also known as a Rhopalic.  More about this form here
Rhopalic - Each succeeding unit is longer than the preceding one. Applied to a line, it means that each successive word is a syllable longer that its predecessor. Applied to a stanza, each successive line is longer by either a syllable or a metrical foot.



This didn't make a lot of sense to me, so I have to go looking for a sample of it.  Otherwise it looks a lot like and Etheree....

Here's one where each word is one syllable longer:

Wolf
howling,
echoing,
penetrating,
reverberating,
Indefatigable,
individualistic
territorialization

by Donna JT Smith, ©2018

And then I did this one where each line is a syllable longer.  I hope this is right.  I like this second one...almost an etheree - just not 10 lines.

Wolf’s
Echoes
Refill night’s
Sail with wild wails
His song washing stars
Silver moon shimmers cold
Penetrating night’s presence
Wolf’s howls a turmoil under gray

By Donna JT Smith, ©2018

Oh, wait, I get the first one now...But wait... How about this format?  I am naming this one

Wolves howling nocturnal emanations
calling companions reunited
surreal circumstances
congregating

V is for VLCRPTR and a Villanelle

I am participating in the A to Z Challenge this month, and today's letter is V.
Click here for the list of blogs participating.

I have spent the past year-ish taking pictures of Maine vanity plates when I encountered them - most all in shopping center parking lots.

I am writing a poem for each one, and this year the poem form begins with the same letter.  I found 3 Maine vanity plates for today that begin with V, and I chose to write a Villanelle.

A villanelle is a 19-line poem, made up of five tercets and quatrain as the last stanza. Lines  follow an ABA rhyme scheme.
The first line of the first stanza is repeated as the last line in stanzas 2 and 4, and is the third line in the final quatrain stanza.
The third line of the first stanza is repeated as the last line in stanzas 3 and 5, and as the last line in the final quatrain stanza.
So - using capitals for the refrains and lowercase letters for the rhymes, the form looks like this:  

A1 b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 A2.

And it's just that easy.

Again, I am better off if I come up with my A1 line and write it in wherever it needs to be, then do the same with any other repeating line.  I add the other lines, making sure of the rhyming and than they all make sense.  I make adjustments to them to make sure they are in a correct rhyming sequence and that they make grammatical sense, etc. before wiping my brow and closing the lid on my laptop. 

https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/villanelle-poetic-form

Velociraptor

Oh, Mister Velociraptor, feathered dinosaur bird

You were called the speedy thief

Though small you were undeterred.

You couldn’t fly, but that just insured

You could run fast albeit brief

Oh, Mister Velociraptor, feathered dinosaur bird.

You had teeth, which seems absurd

But that just meant you could deal out grief.

Though small you were undeterred.

You hunted together in a herd

That’s the paleontologists’ belief

Oh, Mister Velociraptor, feathered dinosaur bird

Velociraptor, your name averred

That of winged dinos you were chief.

Though small you were undeterred.

From this one might have inferred

A supper of beef wins over leaf

Oh, Mister Velociraptor, feathered dinosaur bird,

Though small you’re undeterred.

by Donna JT Smith, ©2018

**********************************************************

I should have tried working these two plates into the poem...bet I could have.  Too late.

 

U is for Unicorn and Ubi Sunt

I am participating in the A to Z Challenge this month, and today's letter is U.

Click here for the list of blogs participating.

I have spent the past year-ish taking pictures of Maine vanity plates when I encountered them - most all in shopping center parking lots.  I am writing a poem for each one, and this year the poem form begins with the same letter.

I found 3 Maine vanity plates beginning with U for today, and chose an Ubi Sunt.

Ubi Sunt: This is Latin for “Where are they?”.  An Ubi Sunt begins with this type of questioning and speak to the transitory nature of life and the inevitability of death.  It seemed to fit "UNICORN".

Unicorns No More

Unicorn, where are you?
Wanderer of dreams -
Never where it seems
To be or not to be;

Here nevermore on cue.

In ages past of mine,

Of long ago and misty,
In shadows gray and twisty,
I saw unicorns with horn
In ferniest glades recline.

Now with eyes paled by years
I cannot see the glistening;
My ears have not the listening -
So soon untuned.
Yet for you, my child, it nears.

by Donna JT Smith, ©2018

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Two more unique plates:

T is for Thorns and Tanka

I am participating in the A to Z Challenge this month, and today's letter is T.

Click here for the list of blogs participating.

 
I have spent the past year-ish taking pictures of Maine vanity plates when I saw them.

I am writing a poem for each one, and this year the poem form begins with the same letter.  I found 6 Maine vanity plates for today, and chose to do a Tanka for THORNS.

Tanka is a classic form of Japanese poetry related to the haiku with five unrhymed lines of five, seven, five, seven, and seven syllables. (5, 7, 5, 7, 7)

The 5/7/5/7/7 rule is rumored to have been made up for school children to understand and learn this type of poetry. For an in depth description of Tanka, please visit the Shadow Poetry Japanese Poetry Tanka section.
http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/tanka.html

Thorns

Sweet the rose in bloom

Its misty fragrance rises 

Sharp the thorns hidden

Dutifully keeping safe

Royalty in the garden

by Donna JT Smith, 2018

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More Maine Vanity Plates:

As you can see T is a popular letter.

S is for Speed and Sedoka

I am participating in the A to Z Challenge this month, and today's letter is S.

Click here for the list of blogs participating.

I have spent the past year-ish taking pictures of Maine vanity plates when I encountered them - most all in shopping center parking lots.  I am writing a poem for each one, and this year the poem form begins with the same letter.  I found 3 Maine vanity plates for today, and chose a Sedoka.

The Sedoka is an unrhymed poem made up of two three-line katauta with the following syllable counts: 5/7/7, 5/7/7. A Sedoka, pair of katauta as a single poem, may address the same subject from differing perspectives.
http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/sedoka.html

Speed

Head perks up, ears twist,

Pausing in midstride, snort, stomp,

White tailed warning to the herd

Legs blend with saplings

Agile, invisible speed

Blurring tranquility’s space.

by Donna JT Smith, 2018

There is no A to Z on Sunday's...see you Monday!