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Gratefulness
Unseen Forces
Love and hope are infinitely more powerful than hate and fury. Heda Margolius Kovaly
Like forces of nature, like wind or gravity, emotions, too, have power. Unseen, they well up in us, as hate must have swollen in those who defiled the Capitol or urged its destruction.
Like that cancerous fury, love and hope have strength. They cause feet to move, arms to reach out, minds to think. Ideas power a differen...
Like that cancerous fury, love and hope have strength. They cause feet to move, arms to reach out, minds to think. Ideas power a different sort of might: with smiles offered, hands extended in friendship or aid, like caressing breezes, like the comforting stability of gravity. Such support beams through the wreckage, letting love and hope surge instead of disease and madness.
Wiping away tears, I, too, take action, writing words to foster what humankind has already imagined into being: a democracy growing with renewed life.
Carol Mikoda
adrift in gray
velvet color of fur or fog wears the wisdom of decades blends years of experience with new learning and critical comprehension that resists duality so easily accessorized with silver and a pop of some bright flower its haze harbors secrets that need to be kept like where the bend in the road will lead us withholds what we’re not ready to know like the details of death allows us to discover in our o...
velvet color of fur or fog wears the wisdom of decades blends years of experience with new learning and critical comprehension that resists duality so easily accessorized with silver and a pop of some bright flower its haze harbors secrets that need to be kept like where the bend in the road will lead us withholds what we’re not ready to know like the details of death allows us to discover in our own time whatever it shelters
stride into beauty welcome leaf stone water cloud displace heart’s outrage
Fog slides s l o w l y, then draws up to uncover pond, field: this day’s stage revealed.
All I have to do is look out the window to witness Act I.
April’s sun, rain, meet winter-washed branch, dead grass: wonderment of green.
warm fire tapping rain soft fur distraction RIGHT HERE as I write of cats
After reflecting on several recent major and minor peak experiences that I had to produce first a poem, then a haiku, related, but not identical in sense.
On the Mountaintop
Swim through ordinary days considering centuries of worn steps. Face oncoming storms with kindness, remembering the poignance of love. Be determined. Be stunning and majestic and infinite as stars’ songs in sacred stone spaces or paintings hung by the wine-dark sea...
Swim through ordinary days considering centuries of worn steps. Face oncoming storms with kindness, remembering the poignance of love. Be determined. Be stunning and majestic and infinite as stars’ songs in sacred stone spaces or paintings hung by the wine-dark sea to reflect and amplify the energy of our souls, crafted mirrors of unknown magic.
To the Mountaintop
centuries’ worn steps carry with kindness and love our enchanted souls.
morning on the back porch: soft breeze, warm sun, background songs of joyful feathered choir
wet twigs shine, leaf buds sparkle, willows bare but bright, palette brown but bursting
Flames hold off dampness Sun beats back winter’s cold enough to wake TREES
I loved the way the cliff haiku changed the shape of the words, so I tried to imitate it when I formatted my haiku. Alas: this space changed my formatting, but the words “dampness” and “winter’s cold” should be spaced off to the right in each line. I have written haiku which did not match the 5-7-5 count, and it always f...
I loved the way the cliff haiku changed the shape of the words, so I tried to imitate it when I formatted my haiku. Alas: this space changed my formatting, but the words “dampness” and “winter’s cold” should be spaced off to the right in each line. I have written haiku which did not match the 5-7-5 count, and it always felt like I was breaking a law (writer’s guilt! lol) so it will be fun to experiment with that again.
I am drawn to Brother David’s haiku about the lake and the rain. It evokes the ambiguity of figure and ground, the illusion that so interested me when I was young and took a design course, and that now seems the epitome of zen. In this haiku, I notice the syllable count is 4 6 3 rather than 5 7 5. I notice the repetition of “is lost” and “in the” that sets up the feeling of ambiguity, of not knowing which is which. I notice the simplicity of two images that never...
I am drawn to Brother David’s haiku about the lake and the rain. It evokes the ambiguity of figure and ground, the illusion that so interested me when I was young and took a design course, and that now seems the epitome of zen. In this haiku, I notice the syllable count is 4 6 3 rather than 5 7 5. I notice the repetition of “is lost” and “in the” that sets up the feeling of ambiguity, of not knowing which is which. I notice the simplicity of two images that nevertheless evokes a complex mental image of rain storms I have watched as they play out on the surface of the pond in my back yard. I notice the rocking feeling ,the back and forth of the simple words and their rhythms. And so I must write one: dawn’s comforting pink challenges nature’s warning: change will be coming.
just heard my first mourning dove of the season this morning…
there is a poem in that paragraph…
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