Category: fairytale

Eight Micros, Or, When You Just Love Words

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Eight little poems, or one long one, whichever you prefer.

*

Snow of a midwinter, moonlight tardy,

Bacchanale winds down –

Whirling woolen warmth, foxes dream, their tails they’ll keep

*

An old cellar. Alas,

Books, not wine

Antique parchment’s scent, a language in onyx, olden

*

Words in indigo, pages in ivory, stories in

Hidden limestone layers

Hills painted. Ochre, aubergine

*

Music in a pine chest, a spruce, hand carved

Quilts of old garments, calico. A leopard watches, closely. Kafka’s ghost

Pensive

*

Blueberries in a pie, an old fashioned in a

Tumbler

Gifts wrapped in brown paper,

Cherry red string

*

Old Boston rocker, love’s initials on one arm

BR + LN,

Century old ivory lace, a tiny hole in the train

Add mothballs

*

House on a hill, pink, not haunted

Storm,

Preparing

Maple leaves falling

*

Atop a little knoll,

The Count of Monte Cristo

In

The Cherry Orchard

Thinks about

Crime and Punishment

And finds

The Body in the Library

*

Gifts

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Monday morning in my

Mailbox, a strand of lovely

Pearls

Not wrapped

Placed on top of a blue envelope, addressed in

Cursive.

I recognize the hand.

Of my young sister.

But the pearls?

Who put them

There.

*

Also, in my garden,

Pink tulip adjacent,

An opal

Brooch

Half buried

Found by Fiona, my

Yorkie.

*

In my fridge

A pair of emerald

Earrings.

Found by me during my search for leftover

Cheese omelette.

*

Gifts from a stranger

Someone has

Infringed

Benevolent? Nefarious?

*

I sit with a cup of coffee

Ponder

I feel no fear, but tears in my coffee

Now flavored with

Salt.

After, I reapply my lipstick

Ballet pink

I will go out into the world today.

My husband passed away five years ago.

He was here.

Birthday gifts.

*

Yesterday I looked for him in the garden

Shed

How does someone come back from

Ash?

But he was here.  He knew I was looking,

And he came.

*

I put on his gift of pearls.

Fiona and I take a walk.

*

Eyes of Forest

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A copse of birches

A fox watches me

I watch her

I continue to walk

Snow dusts the firs, fragile

A hare, love starts, the sky, sees

A wolf

An oak

Eyes

Snow sugar

No snowballs

Swish swish

A cardinal

A winter tune

A raven, also

A bobcat

Quiet hunts

Feet, stealthy

A stonewall

Time worn

Lichen, hiding

Steel sky

Cold stillness

Daydreaming oaks

*

Woods think, imagine.

Beauty, a few tears,

            Solitude

**

Micros, A Dozen

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The palest blush cashmere

Sweater

A lovely pair of freshwater pearl and gold

Earrings,

Persuasion

—

A pair of black onyx and gold

Cufflinks

A black cat curled up on a red velvet

Love seat,

Lovers under

Mistletoe

—

A walk on a misty

Morning

A sweet Bichon Frise with you on that

Walk,

A stylish chartreuse rain

Slicker

—

A pair of red patent leather mary jane’s with

Two inch heels

A necklace of

Rubies,

A Leos Janacek flute

Concerto

—

A single lotus on a little

Pond

A bouquet of pink snapdragons and red roses

In a tall silver vase,

A waxing crescent

Moon

—

A pair of red

Dragonflies

A hive of

Honeybees,

Love Story

—

Three Calico

Cats

Little red jackets for all three to wear

In rainy weather,

Twelve tiny black

Wellies

—

A vintage

Bookstore

A classic mysteries

Section,

The High Window

—

A lilac scented

Bubble bath

A little

Candlelight,

Blue velvet

Mischief

—

A bowl of perfectly ripe, juicy

Cherries

Champagne for

Two,

It Happened One Night

—

A raucous

Murder of Crows

A scarecrow-less

Corn field,

A Coffin For Dimitrios

—

A full moon

Midnight

A just out of the oven pumpernickel

Loaf,

A bottle of

Malbec

Four Doors, Four Stories

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Four doors,

All closed,

Locked.

All with stories to

Tell,

Inside.

One contains a waterfall, silent until I

Enter, if I choose

It. What tale does sparkling, falling water

Tell?

In another, red amaryllis abseils the walls.

A love story wrapped in deep floral

Red? Only if I unlock can I hear the petals

Speak.

Another contains a fir forest lighted by the

Moon. But only if I choose that door, will the

Light shine. Otherwise, darkness.

Should I open a darkened door?

In another room, Monarchs feast on

Milkweed.

If I choose that door, will I endanger

Them more?

If I open, I can hear stories.

Of their long journeys,

The perils they

Face.

Or should I let them

Be?

Keep their tales to themselves.

Remain unburdened by me.

A sometimes reckless

Human.

*

I’ve been given four keys.

But told I can only unlock one.

What is the consequence of trying all

Four?

There will definitely be

One,

Or many.

Which room do I want more?

Water, beautiful flowers, forest or butterflies?

I cannot have all.

Senses, Crocheted Lapis

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A room painted pink

A vase wedgewood blue

A little silver locket

Lapis lazuli

Possibilities

A thicket of milkweed

Monarchs glorious

Feed.

Hummingbird chances

Ruby throated, rufous.

Larkspur luck

A blue linen blouse’s pocket, a hair bow

Satin lilac

*

Silken sight.

Touch, delicate crocheted.

Hearing knitted Chopin, Handel,

Purled Rachmaninoff, Berlioz.

Taste sewn,

Threaded organza silver

A scent,

Lavender parchment

Black ink,

A love letter touched

*

Tey’s To Love and Be Wise

Keats’ Ode To a Grecian Urn.

No happy ending for Romeo and Juliet,

Neither for MacBeth and his Lady.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

A Winter’s Tale.

Author Author, a vintage game.

Cards in a deck, jewels in a crown.

*

From locket, a tiny pink rose grows.

Mind it well.

Possibility, fragile

But a worthy gamble

Love touched, felt in velvet, seen in embroidered blue lace.

Delphinium Descends

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When I awaken early,

Delphinium descends

From the bedroom

Ceiling.

Zinnias, red and orange,

Grow up through the living room

Floor.

Lily, our cat, arises, stretches,

Peers through the viburnum that surrounds

My reading

Chair.

What’s this fresh mischief?

She

Thinks –

I can tell.

I say I don’t

Know.

But,

I don my red velvet dress in celebration.

Of something.

Some unknown

Happiness.

*

I return to our room

My husband still slumbers.

Red roses climb our antique wardrobe I refinished and painted vibrant

Orange.

A no no, I suppose, but I love it.

Husband snores.

He’ll not awaken soon

We had a late night-morning

Out our front picture window, I

See a mama sheep and two lambs

Grazing in our front yard.

Mama looks at me and seems to

Wink.

*

Out back a lion lounges on our patio.

She sees me and strikes a sphinx like pose

I take my book, Death on the Nile, outside to

Read.

Maybe I’ll read it to my feline

Guest?

*

Littles or One Big

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Blue bowtie

       White kitty

Fabulous stunner

*

Vintage handkerchief

           Red embroidered

Lipstick print

*

Empty bottle

         Scent remains

Gardenia citrus

*

Pinot Noir

     Candles lighted

Lush kisses

*

Wool scarf

              Winter white

Wearing warmth

*

Magnifying glass

      Clue detection

Sugared fingerprints

*

Agility course

       Winning ways

Border Collie

*

Two raccoons

         One garbage can

Share share alike

*

Wool sweater

       Cashmere soft

Candy pink

*

Sugar maple

                  Sweet syrup

Buttermilk pancakes

*

Pink tulips

             Yellow irises

Baby’s breath

*

Two feeders

                Three bluebirds

One squirrel

*

Baker’s dozen

          Cinnamon doughnuts

Sweet delicious

*

Checked tablecloth

           Italian restaurant

Ravioli cannoli

*

I love pink!

   

              

A Tale

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Diane’s friends compare her to Chaucer’s Wife of Bath

She thinks this is funny – it does not incur her wrath

Di says but the Wife of Bath didn’t have an orange vinyl recliner

That was made by the best Fargo North Dakota designer

She has four previous husbands though – number five’s name is The Fourth Earl McGrath

*

Diane pleases Early and he satisfies her back

But when it comes to household chores she cuts him no slack

Di likes everything as equal as can be

On that she’s lucky she and Hubby agree

And they love sweet Melville their terrier Russell Jack*

*

Early is a photographer and Di loves to write

Sometimes at night they collaborate by candlelight

Early has a small home office and Di has a picnic table out on the deck.

When they’re done they watch classic films and neck

One of their fave new(er) movies is Shrek

*

Di’s favorite flower is the Canterbury Bell

The pink ones are special and match their living room well

Both Di and Early can be quite bawdy

Every so often they like a good hot toddy

Di’s really brought Early out of his shell

*”poetic” license

White Canterbury Bells

A Pine Near a Pond

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My golden, Astrid, and I walk. 

Around Berry Park pond.

A puddle of mallards, a mama, five

Ducklings. They look content,

Unafraid.

Does Dvorak’s Water Goblin live

Here?

Beautiful music.

Also sinister,

Villainous.

Sunlight through the oaks.

Shadow branches,

Benevolent.

If Water Goblin here,

Capture by them is certain. If he rises,

He’ll be drowned, bereft of

Breath.

These trees are vigilant.

—

Astrid barks. I sigh. My mood ring flashes

Green.

What does this mean?

Memory is Trickster,

And I am getting old.

The ring is a long ago gift.

My summer birthday, a party of

Five.

Jessica, Ronnie, Maggie, Karla, and

Me.

All of us, twelve years.

This same park. A picnic. Up,

Late.

Light, long.

Just after dark, we saw a tree we thought

Magic.

A young pine, just three feet

Tall. Adorned with tiny blue fairy

Lights.

I asked why.

It was Karla who said,

There are no other evergreens near.

It feels decorated, special, like it’s

Getting a

Hug.

Karla is gone now So is Maggie.

We didn’t keep in

Touch after high school

Finished.

—

I feel a chill. My face is wet. Astrid and I sit

Under The Tree.

This pine is grown now, and strong.

I’m sure it wants

A hug.