Opal Reflections
Perspectives through Prose, Poetry and Photography
Sweet Dreams
Sweet dreams, indeed, the stage is gently set,
The kids are off to ‘Magic’ land again,
While they’re away we snuggle ‘top the bed,
And wait for weary ones to trundle in.
Thank goodness we convinced them to begin
their summer trip, with us secure in tow,
You think we pushed too hard, or did the grins
upon our plush, stuffed faces cast a glow?
I dare say, you were cutest, this I know,
Especially with your floppy ears so warm,
Though I’ve been known to be a snuggly joe,
And as a pair, who could resist our charm?
So here we rest upon the “Poly” bed,
Our pleasure to give pleasure back instead.
Poetry Day 10: Pleasure, Sonnet, Apostrophe
Sensory Recall
Sensory Recall
Etched on my recall and in my heart,
Are rituals and flavors;savory and sweet,
Of “Scotch Eggs”, “Black and Tan”, of “Rose and Crown”
Of cotton candy freshly spun; a treat!
Alas, the days grow short and tots grow tall,
I dare not think these summer times may cease,
To everything a season for us all,
Yet tastes and scents, will memories increase.
For even when the wine is not so rare,
Recalling when we sipped on foreign shores,
Forever senses reawake when shared
in days and summers hence whence taste once more.
Writing 201; Poetry: Flavor, Elegy, Enumeratio
Hidden Treasure in Our Woods
Together half a century ago,
When kiddies were mere tots,
We knew we’d found our place to grow,
Our “home fires burning” plot.
And up the street, across the brook
a woodsy path did beckon,
Through many years the treks we took
meant more than we would reckon.
With kids and grandkids we’d return,
And while en route we’d teach
that peace is just mere steps away,
A treasure in our reach.
As seasons come and seasons fly,
And leaves, once green, turn gold,
We know while life is passing by
Our story’s being told.
Someday, long hence, our family boys
will sit by home fires burning,
And up the street, across the brook,
Remember all their learnings.
Writing 201: Poetry Day 7: Neighborhood, Ballad, Assonance
Ode to Winged Flight
Ode to Winged Flight
So not to miss the miracle outside my door,
From darkness into morning light I dive
to catch a glimpse of broad-winged avians, I strive.
They’re graceful as they synchronize o’er shore,
Arising up as seaside waters shimmer,
To soar above the silver, slim-fish swimmers.
They, silent, scale so high they seem to nearly stall
between the sun and my line sight, then, swooping, fall.
But sailing effortless in broad swept arcs they glide,
Without a map to guide their transverse slide,
I, blessed to share their beauty, know all’s right,
I’m told by silhouettes against the bright.
Writing 201: Poetry Day 5: Map, Ode, Metaphor
To See a World In a Grain of Sand
This weekend’s challenge in Writing 201: Poetry: “So: this weekend, share with us a poem that you love (by someone who isn’t you, please). You can quote a particularly striking line (or two) in a new message in the Commons, or drop a link to the whole piece. Most importantly: tell us, in a sentence or two, what about it moves you.”
i chose Auguries of Innocence (BY WILLIAM BLAKE) because I had the priveledge to sing a copposition by Chareton, setting Blake words to expressive music. I post a few lines here, but encourage the reader to follow the link to read the entire (very lengthy and equally brilliant) original poem by Blake. ( http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/172906)
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage
…
A dog starvd at his Masters Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State
…
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear
A Skylark wounded in the wing
A Cherubim does cease to sing
…
The Catterpiller on the Leaf
Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief
Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh
…
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight …
She
She, standing tall above the masses, high atop the grasses that sustain her; bends low, ensuring she will grow to live another day.
She’s cloaked beneath a roughened, toughened skin; designed to withstand time and climes that others could not.
She, camouflaged by nature to exist unseen, sees from her sky-high vantage point, what others cannot; thrives where others would not, should not.
She, gracefully ungainly and ungainly graceful, cleaves to her clan, nurtures her young and in so doing, ultimately survives.
Writing 201: Poetry, Day 3: Skin, Prose Poetry, Internal Rhyme
My Daily Bread
Poetry, Day 2: Gift, Acrostic, Simile
An acrostic, using the letters that spell “Cavalier King Charles Spaniel” as first letter of each line: “My Daily Bread”
Careening up the staircase, spinning wild,
Akin to whirling dervishes I’ve seen,
Voracious his attraction for my smiles,
And he knows well my pockets burst at seams.
Love of life and treats frame his beguine,
Inimitably he ascends and twirls,
Each morning we repeat this same routine,
Repeat again each dawn as flags unfurl.
Kick-starting mornings, elan all a whirl,
I need no twangy clocks or iPhone bells,
No, he awakes with snuggling kisses, pearls
gleaming, as a new day he foretells.
Cavies, known as snugglers, fit the bill,
He craves familiar comfort on my lap,
And I am sure to keep my pockets full,
Rewarding his ebullience, joy on tap.
Little does he know he fills a gap,
Enriching my life view, he makes me glad,
So I’ll accede and dole out gifts to pup,
Selecting each reward (if he’s not bad).
Perhaps I’m spoiling him – I know, it’s sad,
And like Pavlovian dogs, I crave the spoils,
Naysayers, know I give in just a tad
Ignoring all the stats, break all the rules.
Each morning I’ll begin with soul uplifting,
Le Bandit is the gift that keeps on giving.
Writing 201: Poetry, Day 2: Gift, Acrostic, Simile
Raise the Net!
Set, precisely placed,
Ref’s whistle blares o’er melee,
Sphere propelled to net.
Writing 201: Poetry…Day 1: Screen, Haiku, Alliteration; Today, write a poem about/against/in homage to the screens in your life.
Family
A family camping trip into the woods
Our backpacks packed our hopes would soon bemspent,
We took the mount with ease (I knew we could),
And found the glacier lake to pitch our tent.
As momma lit the campfire, we’re hell bent,
to net a piscine supper for our troop,
But dad dismayed, and mom knew what that meant,
Our gear was left at home, beside the stoop.
Alas, through challenges we tried regroup,
As raindrops pitter-pattered on our caps,
We worked to build a shelter from some wood,
A teepee standing strong would be our shack.
That bunch of tree limbs was a house sublime,
A scene of family memories for all time.
Pristine
I stroll in silence, waiting for the day,
And turning towards the “House” and breakfast brews,
The clear, clean watery vista lights my way,
So pause I must to contemplate anew.
Our moonlight swim just hours ago (a few),
Was splash-time central, water slides in play,
As children (old and young) shrieked loud and true,
‘til fireworks announced the close of day.
So on this morn of stillness o’er the bay,
Pool water’s cleaned and chaise lounges set aright,
With wafting kitchen smells to bid me stay,
I stay to rest at peace by water-side.
It isn’t night, for dawn begins to glean,
Still, twinkling lights, like stars on water gleam.
The Polynesian Village is so much more than a place to stay while at Disney World. It truly is a home away from home, for since our own children were tots and even today with their children, we return to our little escape from reality.
This unlikely scene caught me by surprise as I strolled barefooted around the lush grounds, waiting for the sunrise over the Lagoon. The intoxicating aroma of coffee, bacon and sausages being prepared inside the Great Ceremonial House, made me stop for a moment at a vantage point that I might have otherwise overlooked.
The pool lights were still lit and the lifeguards had already diligently and reliably, cleared the water surface of floating leaves, re-arranged the deck chairs side by side, readied stacks of clean, white towels, and repositioned umbrellas and tables.
Everything was in it’s place, cleaned and prepped for another busy day of children and parents, lovers and friends, who, after an exhausting day at the parks, would gather poolside to chatter, eat and refresh their bodies and spirits.
Though I, too, enjoy a refreshing dip in a cool pool on a hot Florida afternoon, my spirits are refreshed by mornings such as these. I recall the moonlight swim just hours before with the boys, the boat show, the firework, and another moonlight swim. Here on this silent morning I smile, realizing that few people see the Poly the way I do. I’ll try keep this hidden gem to myself.
Photo Friday: Clean
Sixth Sense
“A man’s dreams are a maze even he cannot know.”
Robert Jordan
I vague recall that through unopened eyes,
Perceived I two doors shut and latched within,
Until my focus shifted, in surprise
I saw an opened window, curtained thin.
The age old question; whether to give in
to weaker aspects of my psyche’s lean,
Or wake to start anew and, hence, begin
again, and new way out is clearly seen.
Then suddenly, my sense again is keen,
A stark, unmoving object hangs mid-air,
This lonely, plastic hanger bars the scene,
It warns to pause, it says “Do not go there!”
Our psychic senses guide our every choice,
If we would stop and listen to that voice.
- Prompts:
- Robert Jordan Quote
- Weekly Photo Challenge: Grid…We often superimpose a mental grid over things we photograph to help with composition. This week, let’s go literal. (https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_photo_challenge/grid/)
Lighthouse in the Mist, Cape May, NJ
Bandit
Festive View from the Pub, Peddler’s Village – Lahaska, PA.
Home Sweet Home
Opal Reflections 