National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!

[Colm Roe]

Day 25
 

Of Your Soul 

Nice mellow read Aj...the Psalm of your Soul indeed.
 

[Colm Roe]

Marcel, Von, Deb and Gyppo,
You're all maintaining a high standard...even after 24...the finishing line is in sight 

[Vaughn Neeld]

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

[Vaughn Neeld]

Napo 25 - 2019

Organic Snow

The May Blossom fell early this year.
The trees were stiff with it,
white billowing clouds 
outlined against the sky,
glowing in the moonlight
of a still night,
like a giant blancmange.

There were two days warning
when it lost its impossible sheen,
and then the wind blew...

Swirling clouds of white,
spinning and pulsating
rising and falling
twisting and twirling,
making ethereal patterns
in the hidden turbulence.

Shimmering like a million prisms
in the sunlight,
flowing down the road,
bouncing and hopping,
like a shallow stream
hugging pebbled contours
in its dash to the sea.

Piling in drifts, like snow
against walls, hedges, bins,
tyres of parked cars.
Accumulating wherever the wind is trapped
before dying with a tired swirl.

Then the local children,
home from school
sweep through like a warrior wind,
kicking and scattering,
grabbing huge handfuls
to scatter over each other.

In dark school uniforms,
like wedding couples covered in confetti 
they recreate the shimmer.
Disney-like, but real.

The red-headed kid, hands and arms full,
showers his mum's car as she arrives,
laughing as it follows the curves
like smoke in a wind-tunnel test. 

***

The next morning he erupts,
boiling through the door, 
shoving his siblings back
as he grabs a double handful.

He throws it at his sister,
straight in her face,
and the dew-sodden petals
land as one soggy lump.

Their shoulders sag
because the magic has gone.

Gyppo

Oh, I was building a poem about the blowing blossoms, and you beat me to it. The "magic" is not gone; I love this poem. Von

[ajduclos]

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
 Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

Vaughn - thanks for posting Yeats "The Lake Isle Of Innisfree"  - so tender and freeing, and affirming.  Your stuff is on that same page..............
Aj  
 

[Colm Roe]

30 ways to die.
#26

He's threading water,
controlled hyperventilating, 
eyes closed to the hot Turkish sun.
Each deep breath 
a prayer, a mantra, a hope,
aquamarine bathes his senses.

A sudden jackknife
and he's dropping. 

Below the thermocline
into the cold,
warmer colours fade to blue
as his chest tremors a suggestion
to breathe. 

Compressed airways 
are losing buoyancy 
so he sinks faster.

I can go deeper this time

he does...

[ajduclos]

Yes Colm - beautiful - when it is time....... yes, it is
Aj

[Gyppo]

NAPO 26 - 2019

Naiad

My eldest daughter swims in open waters,
in temperatures most would shun.
In a proper costume,
not a flashy bikini.
She's there to enjoy, not 'to be seen'.

In large lakes,
sometimes with ice-rimmed edges, 
or tidal rivers,
with currents to snatch the unwary,
with fishes, and streaming river weed,
and no trace of chlorine.

She tows a swim-float
tethered to her waist.
This buoyancy aid is back-up
in case of sudden cramp.  

It also contains her phone
and other valuables, 
or a pair of shoes
for those times a downstream swim
leaves a long walk back to the car.

This 'wild swimming',
sometimes in places the law says "No!"
suits her character,
fulfilling a need
no crowded and noisy chemical laden 'tank'
could ever approach.

Gyppo

[indar]

I rendered the two poems I mentioned as foreground and background calligraphed over water color washes. Innisfree was block-lettered in masking resist--then I did the washes in shades of purple and gray, peeled off the mask, then I lettered over all that the second poem in pale gold (sans title) the finished piece is pictured in this book. Having my work chosen by the Society of Scribes and Illuminators led by then scribe to the crown office of the queen, Donald Jackson, is one of my proudest accomplishments

I loved the Innisfree poem before that--thanks for posting it Vaughn

https://www.amazon.com/Scribes-Letterin ... 0800852974

[Deb]

The Overview Effect.

Brave explorers
ride rockets into space
to venture into a weightless
world of science and wonder.
 
Once in orbit
on the International Space Station,
astronauts and cosmonauts are drawn
to the Cupola’s seven windows 
in awe of Earth’s eloquent beauty.

No scintillating mortal words exist 
to adequately describe
The Overview Effect.

Each person experiences
a transformation in perception,
cognitive recognition
of our connectedness 
to everything that lives
and breathes on this sphere.

Held down by gravity,
we are natives flying
through the universe,
a conglomeration of humanity
beneath a thin, blue ribbon.

Spacewalkers marvel
at the sun’s intense fury, 
contemplate the phenomenon
of creation, galaxies, and black holes.

Some believe this view from space
was not meant for human eyes to see.

Passengers on expeditions
of manmade, engineering prodigies
understand, we aren’t from towns,
countries, or land masses.
Our addresses do not matter
to this ferocious orb and its lifecycles.

Witnessed from 220 miles,
home is seen as a vibrant, round jewel 
that evokes fervent respect for its treasures.

We are not skin colors, citizens, or religions.
We are earthlings
who dwell upon the lithosphere
of continents colliding
on a brilliant, blue globe
called Earth.

~Deb