Apple pie, fresh from the oven
cools on a rack, whiffs of cinnamon-nutmeg
aroma rise through the pastry vent
then drifts through
the kitchen window opened an inch or so
mingling with a hint of moulder on the breeze.
The apple peelings still lay on newspapers
on the counter, deep crimsons mottled with yellows, greens
mirror fall leaves of brilliant hues.
Is this a coincidence? Perhaps-but perhaps not.
possibly nature intends apples be such colours
as a reminder autumn is close at hand.
The pastry, free formed into an irregular shape,
rustic, like nature. Trees, some now partially stripped
of leaves, exposed gnarled limbs twisting and turning
madly off in all directions. Showing their imperfections
yet beautiful in their own way, silhouetted
against an October deep azure sky.
Reminisces of baking apple pie
snapshots in an album in the mind's eye.
retrieving them, recollecting that day, will sustain
when December's snowflakes flutter about,
when January's winds wail and
when February's blizzards drift high against the doors.
Am in the process of adding poems I have written over the past few years. As it is now Autumn this seems fitting.
#autumn poetry
Friday, 23 September 2016
Sunday, 18 September 2016
Sunday Showers - first draft
Rain pelts against the window,
drops slide down the panes.
It beats upon the rooftop,
soft and gentle then heavy then
soft and gentle that steady rhythm unbroken.
The pavement is rain slicked and puddles form.
Sodden leaves clump in the gutter.
Parched grass and flowers gulp the water,
so very thirsty after a long dry season.
Drought visited this summer, rain scarce.
When will rain fall again?
The forecast is another rainy day ahead.
This poem came flowing out, unexpected but welcome, like the rain that continues. Hearing the rain, got the book I'm currently reading and began getting comfortable, but...the above poem started...so much for the reading! perhaps some of the reference to the rain inspiring the poem?
It is a first draft so subject to further changes. Feedback welcome!
#poetry
#Sunday
#rain
#first draft
drops slide down the panes.
It beats upon the rooftop,
soft and gentle then heavy then
soft and gentle that steady rhythm unbroken.
The pavement is rain slicked and puddles form.
Sodden leaves clump in the gutter.
Parched grass and flowers gulp the water,
so very thirsty after a long dry season.
Drought visited this summer, rain scarce.
When will rain fall again?
The forecast is another rainy day ahead.
This poem came flowing out, unexpected but welcome, like the rain that continues. Hearing the rain, got the book I'm currently reading and began getting comfortable, but...the above poem started...so much for the reading! perhaps some of the reference to the rain inspiring the poem?
It is a first draft so subject to further changes. Feedback welcome!
#poetry
#Sunday
#rain
#first draft
Thursday, 15 September 2016
pair of sunflower haikus
Sunflowers stand tall
stretching upward to the sky
toward their namesake
Sunflowers brilliant
radiate positive thoughts
be cheerful today
A simple post today, a return to the beginning of my poetic journey, when writing haiku was a baby step in the right direction.
The sunflower, Helianthus, combines the Greek words for sun and flower.
The yellow varieties of this flower have ties to happiness and long life.
Symbolism of the sunflower is associated with warmth, positivity, power, and strength.
A Greek myth explains why the sunflower follows the sun:
There was a water nymph named Cyltia, so madly in love with Apollo, god of the sun that she never stopped staring up at the sun co. He did not return Cyltia's love, however.
The other gods took pity on poor Cyltia and turned her into a sunflower so she could always follow the path of the sun. The sunflower has followed the sun ever since.
#poetry,
#positive thoughts
#sky
#cheerful
#radiates
#sunflowers
#Greek myth
#Cyltia
stretching upward to the sky
toward their namesake
Sunflowers brilliant
radiate positive thoughts
be cheerful today
A simple post today, a return to the beginning of my poetic journey, when writing haiku was a baby step in the right direction.
The sunflower, Helianthus, combines the Greek words for sun and flower.
The yellow varieties of this flower have ties to happiness and long life.
Symbolism of the sunflower is associated with warmth, positivity, power, and strength.
A Greek myth explains why the sunflower follows the sun:
There was a water nymph named Cyltia, so madly in love with Apollo, god of the sun that she never stopped staring up at the sun co. He did not return Cyltia's love, however.
The other gods took pity on poor Cyltia and turned her into a sunflower so she could always follow the path of the sun. The sunflower has followed the sun ever since.
#poetry,
#positive thoughts
#sky
#cheerful
#radiates
#sunflowers
#Greek myth
#Cyltia
Friday, 9 September 2016
Introduction: "I Am From...", a poem
I am from the books on my shelves
from the bed in my room and the food in my cupboards.
I am from the large spaces at home and the small ones, too.,
The smell of grass and smell of plants in the breeze
wafting through open windows in this house.
I am of the tulips and daffodils sprouting in spring here
and the iris whose lanky stalks I remember
as if they are my own.
I am from hardy stock and determination
from my mother and father
I'm from perseverence and integrity
and from stalwartness from grandparents and forbears.
I'm from imagination and daydreaming
and "When You Wish Upon A Star".
I'm from Saint John, and of English, French, and German ancestry,
and of meat and potatoes and sauerkraut.
I am from my mother's memories of life on a wheat farm
in Saskatchewan and from my father's sparse comments of life
in a German POW camp in WWII.
I am from old black and white photos now faded somewhat
of younger versions of parents and grandparents, uncle and coudins and relatives I never met
all that reside in the heart.
When I stumbled upon a poem called "where I'm from", I knew this is perfect for the introduction for a poetry blog! It was serendipity, found during a general search for poetry. Knew I didn't want a traditional resume style introduction.
http://www.georgeellalyon.com/where.html
Instructions on how to write a similar poem to Where I'm From included.
I don't have any formal education in literature. In fact, poetry was somrthing I neither understood or liked. In school poetry memorization was what teachers made students do! That was torture, inhumane;) That was it for poetry as far as I knew. Except it was not. More than two decades later I was I enrolled at university, in an Effective Writing course. A few weeks into the course, poetry showed up again! This time I had to write one. How was I supposed to write a poem? I struggled with the assignment but finally got something down. Wrote a poem called "The Anti-Poetry Poem", all about my hate for poetry. Once that assignment was finished, I was free and clear of that literary form. Again life threw me a curve ball!
Sixteen years later, I have an e-pal from the Czech republic. One day she issued a challenge to her e-pals: write something about a butterfly. I mulled that request over and decided to write a tiny poem! Still don't know why I chose to write a poem lol. Apparently this was my fate, writing poems. I've been writing ever since.
My intention is to explore various forms of poetry and also write about the lives of well known poets and some lesser known ones. Who wants to join in?
The Anti-Poetry Poem
Don't much like poetry
Just can't see what purpose
poems are supposed to serve.
Why all the hype about similes and metaphors
and iambic pentameter
or trying to rhyme
each and every cursed line?
To describe an object
in flowery descriptive words
doesn't seem very realistic,
just overly idealistic.
It is quite an ordeal,
can't begin to express
just how I feel
having to compose
a poem, that to me
just doesn't have a purpose!
from the bed in my room and the food in my cupboards.
I am from the large spaces at home and the small ones, too.,
The smell of grass and smell of plants in the breeze
wafting through open windows in this house.
I am of the tulips and daffodils sprouting in spring here
and the iris whose lanky stalks I remember
as if they are my own.
I am from hardy stock and determination
from my mother and father
I'm from perseverence and integrity
and from stalwartness from grandparents and forbears.
I'm from imagination and daydreaming
and "When You Wish Upon A Star".
I'm from Saint John, and of English, French, and German ancestry,
and of meat and potatoes and sauerkraut.
I am from my mother's memories of life on a wheat farm
in Saskatchewan and from my father's sparse comments of life
in a German POW camp in WWII.
I am from old black and white photos now faded somewhat
of younger versions of parents and grandparents, uncle and coudins and relatives I never met
all that reside in the heart.
When I stumbled upon a poem called "where I'm from", I knew this is perfect for the introduction for a poetry blog! It was serendipity, found during a general search for poetry. Knew I didn't want a traditional resume style introduction.
http://www.georgeellalyon.com/where.html
Instructions on how to write a similar poem to Where I'm From included.
I don't have any formal education in literature. In fact, poetry was somrthing I neither understood or liked. In school poetry memorization was what teachers made students do! That was torture, inhumane;) That was it for poetry as far as I knew. Except it was not. More than two decades later I was I enrolled at university, in an Effective Writing course. A few weeks into the course, poetry showed up again! This time I had to write one. How was I supposed to write a poem? I struggled with the assignment but finally got something down. Wrote a poem called "The Anti-Poetry Poem", all about my hate for poetry. Once that assignment was finished, I was free and clear of that literary form. Again life threw me a curve ball!
Sixteen years later, I have an e-pal from the Czech republic. One day she issued a challenge to her e-pals: write something about a butterfly. I mulled that request over and decided to write a tiny poem! Still don't know why I chose to write a poem lol. Apparently this was my fate, writing poems. I've been writing ever since.
My intention is to explore various forms of poetry and also write about the lives of well known poets and some lesser known ones. Who wants to join in?
The Anti-Poetry Poem
Don't much like poetry
Just can't see what purpose
poems are supposed to serve.
Why all the hype about similes and metaphors
and iambic pentameter
or trying to rhyme
each and every cursed line?
To describe an object
in flowery descriptive words
doesn't seem very realistic,
just overly idealistic.
It is quite an ordeal,
can't begin to express
just how I feel
having to compose
a poem, that to me
just doesn't have a purpose!
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