Hour 9: Summer (Form: Butterfly Cinquain)
Seashells
arrayed the shore
watching the footsteps trail,
the bouncing waves ferried the crabs
towards
sunbathed poetic sand castles.
clear turquoise waters chill
beneath the feet
gently.
Firefly nights
Firefly Nights, watching the glow flash in the dusk
Bottle up the moment, it’s your last summer here
Masking the fear of the future, we listen to the bugs zoom in the steamy night air.
The heat of the day faded as the moonlight hits the tree line.
I still think of you on those warm summer nights when the fireflies come out
and moon keeps watch.
Hour 9: Firefly in a bottle
A firefly in a bottle
It tries it’s best
to fly and shine
in such a closed space
It makes me think…
Doesn’t it get tired
Seeing freedom through
the fragile glass
but unable to reach it
It makes me think…
It would be strange if
the firefly isn’t sad or
angry or in despair
And maybe it just puts on a mask
Of hope and effort
A cheerful mask that hides
how tired it is
It makes me think…
Of the view before
a cottage window
barely visible through the treeline
and an empty smile.
The Speck
The path from the cottage
to the seaside
is usually quiet
and solitary.
But today
a boy sits on the grass
watching me.
I start as a speck
getting larger in the distance
and I see him
a speck on the grass
morphing into a boy
sitting in the rain
waiting for my speck to pass.
I nod and say hello.
My voice too loud and sudden and coarse
in the stillness of the drizzle.
He nods and says good morning
quietly
as if to not disturb the llamas
standing in the fields
Did you know they hum when they are happy?
Do you hum when you are happy?
I want to ask
to spill out all the words welling and bubbling up
so many questions
but they stay bottled up
unable to escape the room inside
where they are kept safe
from embarrassment
from hurt
from closeness
It’s just the two of us on this island path
Two specks
one passing the other
on the line to nowhere
Will you be there when I return?
The question hangs strange
in the heavy air
as my speck disappears from your speck.
Field of Memories (Poem 8)
I stand in a field
Beautiful nature is revealed
Blue sky brightens my day
The sun heats my face with it’s rays
The barley stretches beyond my sight
Looking like liquid gold of delight
Once knew a girl with that color of hair
Our encounter was a brief affair
During the days of summer and endless nights
Her face would read of things concise
Time seemed to stand still
Even when we would make love on that hill
We were sorrowed to say goodbye
Knowing our hearts of love were supplied
Her life had a different course
She explained with remorse
I still see her every now and then
That’s why i come here again and again
Upon this glamours area of barley
It’s as pretty as my Carly
Yes, I gaze over this sight of treasury
After all, it’s a field of memories
Holy Scroll of the first Emoji
My lion spirit roars releasing dancing flames like a light house guiding those around me through storms
It rejoices in gratitude for the gift of sweet oxygen breathed out by my arbol brethren
Each enhale enhances connections to ancestors answering unasked questions
Alleluia for revelations reuniting my past and future incarnations
Hour 9
There is a general lethargy
towards yet another Zoom call
Our lives reduced to screens
though some of us have abandoned the screens
in favor of summer’s heat
It is a strange time
people fight over the right to not wear a mask
as if the virus is political
or cares about your god
Wonder what the history books will say about us
Poem #9, Cottage Life, RedStar
Cottage life,
Firefly dreams,
A bottle of whiskey,
And logs for heat.
No mask required,
no need to feel strange.
The lethargy lifts,
I’m alive again.
The Glen
In a glen
On the far side of town
Stood a cottage
Just beyond the tree line
If you find yourself struck
With hunger or lethargy
Come in for a porridge
Or a nap on the trundle
You will welcome the heat
From a bottle poured neat
And imagine the source
Of the strange mask on the door
Then zoom into outer space
And dance with the fireflies
Quarantine
Feeling strange
Lethargy in isolation
Wearing our mask
Is the new norm
Zoom meetings
Working from home
No social gatherings
Or big parties
This firefly like sensation
As we pray for peace
How much longer…
@Mejia – Hour 9