I stood At the foot Of a grave Shaded by Lovely birch On a rolling Green slope Overseen by A church Painted white Filled with History on Both sides Of glass panes- I stood At the foot Of a grave Cradling remains Of those gone From this earth Centuries ago Memories Carved In marble Beloved Daughter, wife, mother Honored Son, husband, father I stood At the grave Of a poet My heart touched By remembrances Of persons I have never met
I am the first to admit I can be a little prim and proper regarding dirt and sweat. I have fun memories of playing in the mud as a kid. Didn’t bother me then.
Yesterday, I suggested we go by flowers to plant in our front bed. My husband agreed. But guess what? They don’t transplant themselves.
My job was taking the plants out of the pots, breaking up the soil, and carefully placing them in their new home. My hands got dirty. Black, rich soil even managed to get under my fingernails.
Before you pat me on the back, this was a short project. Only a little dirt and sweat. 😉 The results? Definitely worth getting a little dirt on my hands.
Wood neatly stacked Chilly night air The lighting Of the fire Perfection First warms My hands Then turns Into a game Stand with My backside As close As possible To the flames As long As possible Before running Back to my seat Feel the warmth Spreading thru My entire body As I quickly Sit down- Content Gazing At the flames A single spark Catches my eye I watch until It disappears Into the night sky When sleep comes I think about The brevity Of this life- Each single spark Glowing until It disappears
How could I have missed Such variety In its shades? I suppose When I was Younger Other things Received My attention Easily distracted Time spent Looking down Running ahead But seldom Looking around Taking it all in Is it possible The comings And goings of life Moment to moment Day to day Year to year Are actually Slowing Down Enough For me To feel All The Greens Of Spring
Bald Cypress, Two Rivers Park Little Rock, Arkansas
Gentle breeze Across my face Carries hope For a new day Lately my mind Has been stormy Unable to focus Thoughts jumping From one to The other like Lightning bolts On the horizon-And yet, The storm passed With a quiet word A gentle embrace- Reassurance from Your presence Mingling with The breeze- Kissing away my fears
Head Back Looking up Patches of blue Splashes of white Visible thru the Rectangular grid A work of art Ever-changing As the wind Rustles leaves In my periphery Then gently Cools my face Music flows From speakers Perfectly placed Behind my head I listen-looking Again, at the grid Then close my eyes A negative of the Image remains Imprinted on The insides of My eyelids Smiling, my foot Quietly taps along With the beat Chair rocks Back and forth Every muscle relaxes Underneath this Perfect frame I open my eyes Once again to The changing view
Pink flowers Graced The bed Yesterday Fluttering In the breeze As if to say Isn’t it a lovely day? Rains came Winds grew Now pink petals Cover the ground I don’t think They are sad Just seeing The world From a new Perspective Knowing Their blooms will Remain in memories As they fade into dust
I wrote this poem at a recent writing circle with Ali Grimshaw. flashlightbatteries I continue to enjoy this process and the lovely people I’ve gotten to know. 💞
I was a little grumpy when I got home yesterday. The reasons don’t matter. But any little thing seemed to grate on my nerves. As my frustration rose, I suddenly had a thought. Why don’t you go to the other room and play your piano?
I don’t know why this solution doesn’t appear faster in my brain.
Sitting down at the piano, I opened one of my favorites, Schumann’s Scenes from Childhood, a beautiful set of short pieces. The first few I played didn’t fit my mood. Then I landed on Reverie. Just what I needed.
After playing it several times, I became curious about the original German title-Träumerei. Reverie is the translation in my edition, and I wanted to make sure my ideas matched the original intent. One definition said, “pleasant reveries, daydreams.”
I got lost in my thoughts, listened to myself play, then wrote this poem. I felt much better. 🙂
Reverie
Staring out The window Dreaming of Sunny days Even though Today is gray Running free Through a Golden field Of sunflowers Rolling Without Reserve Down a Grassy hill Walking Innocently Hand in hand Along a dirt road Daydreaming- Time well spent Lost in thoughts Energy renewed Before heading Back to the now
Reverie from Scenes from Childhood by SchumannKelley Morris, piano
A little childlike fun today with these two poems. 🌺 💭
Hello, Flowers
Tiny flowers grow Under the window Just outside Reaching with All their might Hoping to be seen Tiny feet stand Under the window Just inside Reaching on tiptoes Wondering what is On the other side A little help, please Tiny feet walk Out the door Holding a hand Toes touch the grass Eyes spot the flowers Under the window Hello, flowers Under my window The flowers smile Hello little one We were hoping You would visit
The Friendly Cloud
A cloud phoned The other day Taking a break From all its Floating around Needing to rest It grew still And quiet Like a giant Cotton ball Sitting in The blue sky- Thought I’d check-in See if you needed anything Said the cloud Well, I said Today has been hot With little wind I’m quite enjoying Your cool shade- Glad to help Said the cloud Maybe next time I call You will need a little rain- Maybe so… Maybe so…
Piano Girl 