The Landscape Listens – a cento But westward look, the land is bright! Under the sunset’s flush how often have I bless’d the coming day with magic in my eyes flushed, and the skyline pulsed with the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time blue, ruby, gold and green between the whiteness of… Continue reading The Landscape Listens – a cento
Cost of Rebirth Consider the egg how it hides life within a calcium cocoon protects and nourishes the chick within until too large restless and strong pecks free destroys its home egg now mere shell of former self becomes nest detritus Consider the egg how it sustains life surrenders to boil, scramble stir, whip, mix… Continue reading Cost of rebirth
Love Of Fare At the poetry fair verbiage fills the air as I sample each poet’s concoction: haiku-rich canapes, free-form salads, parfaits of thick verse, sonnets baked to perfection. Wine of symbol and sound, liqueur lyrics abound I’m becoming an addict of diction, till I stumble around very drunk on profound poems that make my… Continue reading Love of fare
O Mocking Bassinet O mocking bassinet and now unneeded treasure hoard of pink and blue, I cannot look at you. O mutinous organ, inhospitable home full of treachery and betrayal, Why expel this tiny life most loved? O unrefreshing rain of tears and blood Fill up my heart’s black bottomless void – All that is… Continue reading O Mocking Bassinet
The Alchemy of Poetry Position the inert element (any prompt will do) into the beaker of an empty page and bathe in the acid of a long stare. Place vessel over the flame of thought. Heat until surface softens and breaks into fault lines. With any writing instrument organize component parts into webs and lists.… Continue reading The Alchemy of Poetry
Memory Contemplation skims glassy surface peers and sees in limpid depths fingerlings darting in and out the algae-furred wreckage © 2011 by Violet Nesdoly This poem was written in response to the One Shoot Sunday challenge at One Stop Poetry.
Converting to Childhood Jesus: “... unless you are converted and become as little children you will by no means enter the Kingdom of Heaven.” Matthew 18:3 You lose sophistication and veneer and become clear sing, skip and play easily laugh and cry then fall asleep without a care for Daddy is nearby. No longer do… Continue reading Converting to childhood
He is here “He is here, hallelujah, He is here, amen…” This is the melody soundtracks my night and my day repeats and repeats itself over and over again “He is here – Hallelujah. He is here – Amen!” When my heart feels despairing, abandoned, reminding me then He under me, over, surrounding, beside the… Continue reading He is here
March sun, swaddled in a receiving blanket of clouds dreams a newborn promise. It’s already 9:30 but no one has had breakfast except the dog. He lies beside me on the couch his side moving in the rocking rhythm of sleep. Sweet silence is rippled only by padding footsteps the upstairs swish of a flush… Continue reading Baby Morning
wordsmith forge poems from elements of experience experience grown pliable in fire of memory memory of emotion and story gathered in words words heated and handled cautiously with pencil-hammer hammer softened elements into a piece of writing that’s new new use for something on recollection’s shelf shelve it to cool and await its next reincarnation… Continue reading wordsmith
Violet Nesdoly 