No Dumping

Outside,
in the middle of town,
there's a creek
and a few trees.

Scattered about
between fallen branches
and leaves,
there's Trash:

styrofoam cup
plastic bottle
aluminum foil pan
and paper bags of all sizes.

"No Dumping" - you must have missed the sign.
Didn't somebody ever show you how to use a trash can?

Water gives life to this planet.
Water gives life to you.
All you give the water
is your disrespect and your refuse.

Water doesn't come
from out of the faucet.
It isn't magic or modern sciene
bringing you refreshment.

Water does come
from out of the ground.
It flows through rivers and creeks,
just like this one.

It's not just the beauty you damage.
It's not just the environment you hurt.
You endanger your own life
when you pollute the water.

Earth will survive us.
Eventually every human will die,
and we will no longer be a
parasitic problem.


There is a creek near my house similar to the one described, and while walking the dog yesterday, I just felt compelled to write something.

Coke on a Hot Day

A tall glass of chilled Coke

is my Kryptonite

on scorching hot days

that bring fuzzy logic

and extra thirsty dogs.

Indian summers

always leave me wishin'

for a cool blue lagoon

that this Georgia peach

could jump right into.



Poetry Tow Truck #45: Have a Drink on Me
Used this Drinks' Names List to find some inspiration.
It was actually kinda nice to think about some warmth since it's been so chilly lately.

In case you're thirsty, here's some recipes:
Kryptonite, fuzzy logic, Thirsty Dog (beer brewing company)
Indian summer, blue lagoon, Georgia peach (a personal fave)

Edge of the Storm

The air feels light, less dense.
It moves with varying speeds, directions.
It has a special smell of wet.
(My kindergarten teacher said water doesn't have a smell.)


Almost imperceptibly at first
a few drops start falling,
nothing to really worry over.
(Although, Mom still called to check up on us.)


A short trip outside for the dog.
She doesn't mind the wet,
only the stronger winds.
(They're what'll give us the most trouble, anyway.)


Nothing to do but wait,
avoid being outside, 
and hope for others' safety.
(It'll pass, like everything else.)


We Write Poems #69 3+(1) form
Poetry Tow Truck #35: Rain

Dew

Dew clings to the window screen,

blurring my view. Not that I care.

The only thing that interests me

is wallowing in my despair.

The new day only serves to remind:

my best friend died last night.

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Quartz

I
numberless clear crystals
arranged to opacity
and varrying whites

II
Sorry I'm late.
A small bump in the path
tripped me up.

III
This small rock
(the length of my pinky)
was once part of something larger:
a mountain.
We are all small,
and yet part of the whole
of humanity.

IV
A glint caught by
the corner of my eye
Then lost in the dirt
until a short wind
revealed it to me.
A happy discovery.

V
Without its own locomotion
it travelled quite far,
no quartz sources nearby.
A few minor forces
combined,
water trickling,
a short kick,
but it made it here.

VI
Small beauties in life
like this bit of quartz
are often surprises.
Appreciate them.

VII
Straight edges
softened with time.
Half rough and
half smooth sides.
Some parts got more wear.

VIII
Cracks & crevices
too small to notice
but for the dirt
clinging in them.
Oh, the dirty details.

IX
looks to be a puzzle
with pieces carefully put together
and not easily pried apart

X
a rock hurled
a face cut
a crystal reddened
a scar formed

XI
Chance made it cloudy,
imperfect.
But not unbeautiful.

XII
Random gifts of
beauty are proof
the universe loves us.

XIII
“I found this shiny rock
just for you, Mommy.”
A little girl's
I love you.


Inspired by Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird by Wallace Stevens
We Write Poems Prompt #68
Poetry Pantry #63

Our Everyday Life

In my head I paint a picture
of our everyday life together.

Knick-knacks filling shelves
Dog toys on the floor
Laundry and dishes
variously done and needing doing
Books tucked under the couch

In my head I compose the melody
of our everyday life together.

Video games' rapports
Classical and college radio
Keyboard clicking
and computers' thinking-whirrings
'Hello' 'Goodbye' 'I love you'

In my head I create the perfume
of our everyday life together.

Incense softly dissipating
Wet dog after a bath
Ghee melting in the pan
filling the house with 'fried'
Aftershave and deodorant

In my head I taste the variety
of our everyday life together.

Mexican, Chinese, Pizza
Hazelnut in chocolate
Onion tomato masala
as the base for every other meal
Garlic, for flavor and joint health

In my head I feel the moments
of our everyday life together.

Soapy, hot, wet dishes
Smooth dog's ears
Soft and yet also scratchy
beard rubbing my face during
Strong yet gentle hugs

I love
our everyday life together.




First line prompted by:
Carry on Tuesday #115
Amy Winehouse - Valerie

High-Seas Plastic

Fishermen had lost them

every year

for half a century.

Killing everything in its path.

Three months in the Pacific,

a net thirty feet across.

Island: estimated

six thousand more tons.

Still greater danger. 

Words from one page of the book:

Moby-Duck: The True Story of 28,800 Bath Toys Lost at Sea and of the Beachcombers, Oceanographers, Environmentalists, and Fools, Including the Author, Who Went in Search of Them 

By Donovan Hohn

The selected words describe lost plastic fishing nets which harm and kill sea creatures for decades (so far) after they're lost by the fishermen. Also, there are unfathomable amounts of plastic floating out in the ocean causing all sorts of trouble and even creating islands of trash!

Right as Rain

Into the sky I gaze.
The clouds form soft arrays.
Merry, they dance around.
Month long, rainstorms abound.
Of the clouds I pick out,
May flowers come about
in their time, because rain,
farmer's join and pain,
morn, noon, and night appears.
By wind, it travels here.
Break off cursing the skies.
Of water comes all life.
Day, Night, Sun, Rain: All Right.



Part of this week's Carry On Tuesday
Lines from: Phillida and Coridon by Nicholas Breton



Part of Promising Poet's Parking Lot Thursday Poets Rally 43.

'Translation'

Today's prompt from NaPoWriMo was to pick a poem in a language you don't know and 'translate' it. Look at the words and try to make some sense of them. A fun and interesting exercise. Used Poetry International Web to find a poem.



'Translation'

The habit is steady under a visit
but seek and fault, under water longing
the tank to swim further down
is altered hidden wedge: sameness

the glands from the brook. Our status gone wild
someone your betoken, gone ramming speed
within pasta, gone hook and not right.
Craziness and of stupidity from life and later

will is out to see, to oneself
four leaving all fat overgrown
sheaths sitting on my stool
and their heels going in circles.



'Vacant' - Esther Jansma, The Netherlands

De manier is steeds anders, een vuist
balt zich en valt, uit water lekt langzaam
de kanker van schimmels, maar daarna
is altijd hetzelfde weg: samenhang,

de glans van gebruik. Hier staat geen wand
zichzelf te betekenen, geen raam speelt
voor spiegel, geen hoek is nog recht.
Nutteloosheid is de schoonheid van verval en later

wil ik ook zo zijn, zo vanzelf
door leeftijd als gras overgroeid
scheef zitten in mijn stoel
en daar heel goed in zijn.


Translation:

The manner is always different, a hand makes
a fist and falls, the cancer of moulds seeps
slowly out from the water, but afterwards
it's always the same that's missing: cohesion,

the shine of use. Here stands no wall
meaning a wall, no window is playing
at being a mirror, no corner is still straight.
Uselessness is the beauty of decay, and later

I, too, want to be like that, so naturally
overgrown by age, like grass,
sitting crooked in my chair
and being very good at that.

Storm

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 BOOOM

*May 31: Included in Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck for the week of May 29

Day 4 Springtime Walk of Elements

Springtime Walk of Elements

Today, I went for a walk with my dog.
The wind blew through, against, between the trees
making quite a ruckus, but a pleasant one.
Dandelions everywhere.
Clover patches abound.
Feeling the ground beneath my feet,
the wind in my face,
the sun on my skin,
the humidity in my pores,
I am connected to the ground,
the wind,
the sun,
the humidity:
the Earth.

Day 3 - Predicting My Death

NaPoWriMo posted this prompt:
"Cesar Vallejo wrote a pretty famous poem that begins with him saying that he will die in Paris, in the rain, on a Thursday (different translations from the Spanish make it hard to quote precisely in English). So go ahead and write a poem predicting your own death — at night in Omaha at the Shell Station, in an underwater Mexican grotto after a dry spell. It’s less morbid than you think!"


Spring Rain

I will die on a Wednesday in May,
happy to have seen one last spring rain.
Any later, and summer will make it too hot for dying.
Any sooner, and I'll miss some of the best flowering.

It will be raining because that relaxes me,
and reminds me of growth, childhood, and magic.
Perhaps I'll have just finished drinking a bit of tea.
Maybe, I won't even have been sick.

Life, and death, sometimes just happen that way.
On a Wednesday,
in May,
after a spring rain.



And because I thought it would be fun, I have translated it into Esperanto. I have been learning this language, practicing a little bit every Monday by getting online to chat with others and visiting lernu.net where there are free Esperanto courses. I love this beautiful, wonderful language.

Esperanto was created by L.L. Zamenhoff in order to be everyone's second language. Because it didn't come from one nation or group of people, every one speaking it would be on even ground, as opposed to English being used at the UN meetings and native English speakers having an advantage in debates and discussions. Because there are no rule exceptions (such as oddly conjugated verbs), Esperanto grammar and structure are much easier to learn than most languages. There are about 900 roots, suffixes, prefixes, and main meanings, which can be combined to form over 100,000 words. This means learning even 100 roots can help you understand about 1000 words. Over one million people speak it fluently worldwide, and some schools teach it to younger children as a framework for learning other languages. Through local, national, and international meetings, Esperanto has also developed its own culture. The original idea was a language to help foster world peace and equality, so that feeling carries through all of the gatherings and interactions between Esperanto speakers.

Give the poem a read, and you may even see some words you can recognize.


Printempa Pluvo

Mi mortos unu merkredo en majo,
feliĉa vidis finalan printempan pluvon.
Pli malfrue, kaj somero faris lan veteron tro varma por mortado.
Pli frue, kaj mi mankis kelke de plej bonan floradon.

Pluvus pro tio ke malstreĉiĝas min,
kaj memorigis min de kresko, infanaĝo, kaj sorĉado.
Eble mi finis trinkadon iom teo.
Eble, mi ne estas malsana.

Vivo, kaj morto, kelkfoje okazas en tia maniero.
Unu merkredo,
en majo,
poste printema pluvo.