Words

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"Family and Rainstorm" by Alex Colville

“Family and Rainstorm” by Alex Colville – 1955

Words

i
ubiquitous as water, find words
on cereal boxes, cracker wraps
this pencil, this keyboard
shoes, underwear
beside the road, on your stove
TV remote, light bulb
in the speech cloud above my head
the thought bubble above yours

ii
words have texture and heft
substance, power and cleft
they sing and ring
cling and fling
can be tart or tasty
considered or hasty
with precise aim and tone
they can break a bone

iii
some paint broad strokes
like impressionist art
others are real
as an Alex Colville
complete with summer day
storm clouds

© 2014 by Violet Nesdoly

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Tomorrow (January 18th) would be the 235th birthday of Peter Roget, the physician / theologian / lexicographer who compiled the Thesaurus of English Words and Phrases. It was published  in 1852 and went through twenty-eight editions in his lifetime. (He died in 1869) (The Christian Almanac, p. 47).

Thank you, Mr. Roget. I love words and I love your Thesaurus!

Want to find out about more interesting facts about January. Check out the January ’14 Freelance Writers Almanac post on my writer blog. It’s my plan to post an almanac post on the first day of each month this year.

Poetry Friday LogoThis post is part of Poetry Friday, hosted today by Keri at Keri Recommends.

fog

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A foggy walkway

fog

penetrates
cold through jackets
bites into boots and gloves
grips bones
greedy for more
breathes on windows
slips under doors

muffles traffic’s roar
with cotton batting
drivers grope
through the tulle
maneuver cautious
past blurred landscapes
strain to see crimson
pinpricks ahead
standards looming
green, yellow, red

weakens under
distant globe
like consciousness
after a coma
colour seeps back
into earth-corpse
a blush
of pastel happiness
to clarity
then the brilliance
of hope
dissipating depression

© 2013 by Violet Nesdoly

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We are in the season of fog. Though our winter has been milder than many, we often have day after day of the stuff. I don’t mind fog, though it does have a way of poking shivers through jackets, it’s nasty to drive in, and when it lingers and lingers, I do feel a sort of cabin fever, even outside. What’s wonderful about fog is how suddenly and unexpectedly it can clear… like some other types of weather.

poetry+friday+button+-+fulll“fog” is part of Poetry Friday, hosted today by the very hospitable (she has tea!) April Halprin Wayland at Teaching Authors.

Appetite Affair

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artisan flatbread

“Bewitched by bread”

Appetite Affair

Adore apples
Bewitched by bread
Charmed by chocolate
Delight in doughnuts
Esteem eggs
Fall for fajitas
Go for grapefruit
Hold hamburger in high regard
Idolize ice-cream
Just crave jam
Kiss kasha goodbye
Love lava cakes
Mad for muffins
Nibble noodles
Over head and ears in love with olives
Passionate about peanut butter
Quest for quesadillas
Relish raspberries
Sweet on salsa
True to tomatoes
Unfaithful to upside-down cake
Venerate vegetables
Welcome waffles
X a meal? Never!
Yearn for yogurt
Zealous for zucchini

© 2012 by Violet Nesdoly

poetry+friday+button+-+fulllThis is pure silliness. I wrote it for the prompt of “love” during the 2010 November poem-a-day challenge.

This poem is submitted to Poetry Friday, hosted today by the very Etsy, I mean artsy Robyn Hood Black.

Full Moon Almanac

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Full Moon Almanac

Wolf Moon
lights snow-blue fields
embossed with paw print trails
to where January ghosts howl
Ice Moon

Snow Moon
February’s
bluster winds heap white dunes
We’ve stocked the cupboard full against
Storm Moon

Worm Moon
March’s wiggly
trails of melt, then Crust Moon
Spring so white and pure we call her
Chaste Moon

Pink Moon
wild flowers bloom
as April birds return
to build twig nest, lay a sky blue
Egg Moon

Flower
Moon of May
Bunnies hop in Hare Moon
Farmers dream Planting Corn Moon and
Milk Moon

Rose Moon
Strawberry Moon
of June when hard green fruits
soften, blush under sun’s rays, night’s
Hot Moon

Buck Moon
July’s the time
to hunt, replenish stores
then sleep secure through Thunder Moon
Hay Moon

Red Moon
August’s smoky
skies color Sturgeon Moon
while green Corn Moon sprouts, promises
Grain Moon

Harvest
Moon, September
lights nights of bringing in
oats and wheat under Barley Moon
Corn Moon

Hunter’s
Moon, roam under
October’s Travelers
Moon, stalk prey in frosty Dying
Grass Moon

Beaver
Moon, the busy
rodents mend their dams in
icy blue November’s grip of
Frost Moon

Cold Moon
lights Christmas paths
December’s carollers
so bright you could forget it’s Long
Night Moon

Blue Moon
rare-month moon
when full moons multiply
their charm, mystery, magnetism
My Moon

– Violet Nesdoly

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The November 2nd Poem-A-Day prompt was to write a full moon poem. I know there’s a lot of interesting lore about moons—full moons in particular. So I went hunting for some before I wrote my poem. My favorite find was a wonderful National Geographic article called “Full Moon: What’s in a Name?” It listed names the full moon has been called in lore and history through the months of the year, and gave the genesis of many of these names.

I wrote the poem in cinquain form (a 2-4-6-8-2 syllable cinquain) to keep myself reined in and the poem compact—seeing as how it would go on for 13 stanzas in any case.

This poem is submitted to Poetry Friday, hosted today by kidlit maven Anastasia Suen at Book Talking.

Leisure these days

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I’ve been keeping up with the November Poem-A-Day poetry prompts at Poetic Asides. Yesterday’s was  “Talk back to a dead poet. Choose a poem you like by a poet who is no longer living and offer a rebuttal.”

I chose the poem “Leisure” by W. H. Davies (1871-1940).

Here is the original:

Leisure

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

– W. H. Davies

My talk-back poem is more a reflection than a rebuttal. Some days I’d definitely prefer Davies’ brand of leisure. But, then, who can entirely resist ‘progress’?

Leisure these days

I think I’ll pass on woods and grass
if my connection’s nice and fast.

Ignore lithe Beauty’s dancing feet
as Google serves me sure and fleet.

Watch girl in sidebar smile or scowl
and not that pensive sheep or cow.

See YouTube arrow turn to bars
instead of watching squirrels and stars.

The stream of stars that I prefer
Netflix delivers all the year.

What good is life and what’s it worth
without the time to sit and surf?

– Violet Nesdoly (November 8, 2012)

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I’m offering this poem to Poetry Friday, hosted this week by the dauntingly clever Ed DeCaria. Come on over to Poetry Friday: Findability, Discoverability, and Marketing to sample dozens of poetic offerings from the Kidlitosphere and beyond.