I’m pleased to announce that my poem “Let Man Lay Down Rifles to be Ally” is published on Gobblers by Masticadores today! I am very grateful to Manuela Timofte and her staff for publishing this special piece. I hope you all enjoy!
Let Man Lay Down Rifles to be Ally
If only humans could absorb lessons From the largest mammals walking the earth. Their big hearts bursting with kind expressions, A principle understanding golden worth.
If only humans would shed their black greed, Knives and guns stealing an innocent life. Torturing for the sale of ivory Beneath a darkened sky, spine-chilling cries...
To read the rest of the poem, please click on the link below. And if you don’t already follow Gobblers, please do. You’ll discover amazing talent and thought-provoking writing. Thanks for stopping by!
Sunset would soon reveal itself On this day not quite the thirty-first. Late afternoon brought warm temps, He shifted the car into reverse.
Looking in the rear-view mirror Ready to part from the stall, His eyes blinked several times, What he saw took disturbing gall.
A clown from a horror film With head bent to the right – He thought, “What the hell?” Celebrating defense of daylight!
Mind and body didn’t easily scare, Toughened by the screen. But trepidation began to build, Though not in the least to be seen.
However, he swiftly chose to ignore Since the dashboard clock continued to tick. No weapon glistened in light of day, Time did not allow for a lunatic.
The right move was decided To turn the other cheek. Pointless to provoke, yet, he wasn’t acting weak.
The sedan attempted to roll back As the clown surprisingly stepped aside. Avoiding contact with those eyes, the accelerator was applied.
A form of frightening entertainment, Ages ago, clowns, fun and comical. Their smiles joyful, but now creepy. An event surely psychological.
Nevertheless, a happy ending for this tale – Altercation dodged, he thankfully stayed safe. But fun appears in interesting forms – This afternoon, dreadfully, eerily displayed.
(The inspiration for this poem came from my son’s unsettling experience in college years ago. It turned into a timely post for the spooky event approaching at the end of this month.)
I was finally able to take some photos of these wonderful elephants that I pass by every day. They’re on the side of the building for Johnny Doughnuts. And I always think of my good friend, Resa, because she is the discoverer of fabulous murals that she shares on her blog, graffitiluxandmurals.com. After reading The Elephant Whisperer by Lawrence Anthony and An Elephant in My Kitchen by Francois Malby-Anthony, I fell head over heals with these magnificent animals. But as we all know, poaching is rampant for elephants. I can’t even wrap my head around this horrific deed and the heartless humans behind it. Anyway, a poem began to brew and a sonnet began to form. The iambic pentameter isn’t perfect, but so be it. Thus, I offer you my ‘somewhat sonnet.’
Let Man Lay Down Rifles to be Ally
If only humans could absorb lessons From the largest mammals walking the earth. Their big hearts bursting with kind expressions, A principle comprising golden worth.
If only humans would shed their black greed, Knives and guns stealing an innocent life. Torturing for the sale of ivory Beneath a darkened sky, spine-chilling cries.
Allowing these creatures to play their part Would aid ecosystems they occupy. No bullets tearing through a gentle heart… Let man lay down rifles to be ally.
But greed, a power tough to relinquish – Is this a pipe dream best to extinguish?
(I end with a question to ponder, but a rhetorical question because good-hearted man will always fight the greedy heartless to protect these amazing mammals that are vital to the ecosystems they inhabit.)
I shared a poem about The Natchez Trace Parkway here after visiting our daughter and son-in-law a couple of weeks ago. So today, I’m sharing about the famous Natchez Trace Parkway Bridge located in Williamson County, Tennessee. I’m including one of the photos I took, along with a gorgeous photo found on the National Park Service website during autumn. I’d love to visit during this season, but we’re home now so maybe next year!Of course, inspiration stirred some poetic thoughts, but I was in the mood for a challenge. So, I wrote a septet for the first time, and I hope I wrote it correctly. I could only read it so many times before the words began to blur. So, go easy on me, please. 😁
Anyway, bridges are always special, holding some kind of significance, so we were literally in awe. I hope you enjoy!
Arches curve with honor and elegance as we gaze in awe beneath sun of gold enticed by crimson autumn elements. A phenomenal vision to behold, motorcyclist’s freedom to unfold. Praised for design and historic facets – homelands of the Chickasaw, Choctaw, and Natchez.
Note: The rhyme scheme of a septet poem: A 7-line poem that is also known as a Rhyme Royal. Traditionally, Rhyme Royals have the following rhyming sequence: ababbcc.
Dear Family and Friends, I am thrilled to share that my poem, “An Invitation” is published on Spillwords Press today as a Featured Post! Thank you to Dagmara and her team for accepting my submission. It is always a great honor to have my writing featured on this wonderful platform, and to be in the company of many talented authors.
An Invitation
Smooth granite invites contemplation and reflection. Please, take a seat, relax, watch the lake’s ripples perform their water dance. Does the shimmering surface remind you of stars presenting a ballet in a brilliant night sky?
Note the tall pines swaying in the breeze, you can gently sway, too, if you feel the need. Let the depth of your soul bathe in the beauty...
You can read the full poem here, and please don’t leave without giving it a ❤️. You only need to log in if you’d like to leave a comment, and I’d love to read your thoughts. But either way,I’d appreciate your support! 🤗
Thank you again to Dagmara K. and her team! I am truly grateful! ❤️🌷
I have returned to the land of the living, feeling much better from a week of Covid, about 90% so. I’m still taking it easy because Covid isn’t meant to be taken lightly. But I’m grateful to feel human again. I’m sharing a poem I wrote from one of our day trips with our daughter in Tennessee. We visited The Natchez Trace Bridge, which I will share photos and a piece of writing (in progress) a little later. But the poem today is about our drive along The Natchez Trace Parkway. A brief history is also included. I hope you enjoy the journey…
Photo taken at one of the stops on the parkway.
The Old Natchez Trace – pulled from the National Park Service
The Old Natchez Trace is one of the oldest transportation routes in North America; its human use dates back 10,000 years. The Old Trace consisted of a network of trails. For centuries, American Indians traveled and traded along this corridor, which traverses the homelands of the Natchez, Chickasaw, and Choctaw nations. The parkway is a 444-mile scenic drive that connects Nashville, Tennessee to Natchez, Mississippi. It’s a National Scenic Byway and All-American Road that’s open to motorists, hikers, and bikers year-round.
The Natchez Trace Parkway
The tires roll on the graceful parkway flanked with thicket of forest on both sides. My imagination turns whimsical where fairies, gnomes, and unicorns coexist within the density of the woodland. I exit my tenacious thoughts stirred from world events, and I revel in wide-open spaces and a vast valley that continues forever.
Hemlocks, maples, and pines dot small sections, and I delight in leaves skipping across the road, letting the grass catch them in soft embraces.
Our car leapfrogs with a lone cyclist, but you wouldn’t label our journey a race. It is a gift to savor where the clock does not personify a dictator.
My eyes watch butterflies ride the gentle breeze and crickets hop among the myriad of greenery. A smile finds its way, and I am lost in the wonder of every living creature and how each feels about our presence in their homeland.
Autumn ensures her presence to come with hints of golds and crimsons. I can almost smell the cinnamon. I can almost taste the pumpkin. What a delicious season to welcome!
When we reach the end, I direct my mindset to remain in such a magical state because not only am I in the best company of two loved ones, but my mind and soul feel exhilarated to release heavy cargo.
Instead, after leaving the heavenly national park, I find it meditative to observe a man with silver hair contained beneath a ball cap, sitting in his chair on his massive, mowed lawn, simply watching the grass grow.
Let us all immerse into the tranquility of stillness where time is nothing but irrelevant.
I mentioned in my last post, that I’ll be on a break as we visit our daughter and son-in-law in TN. Well, I expected to do a post a week ago. But life had other plans…three days after flying home and having the best time with ‘the kids’, I felt sick and tested positive for Covid. Ugh. So, I’ve been home sick this entire week, isolating and taking Paxlovid. Besides fever, cold, and cough symptoms, brain fog and fatigue joined in the party and seem to have a tough time with letting go. But I’m feeling better from the beginning of the week. So, I hope (and plan) to return to work and the world of the living on Monday, barring any dramatic setbacks. Concentration has been nil until today, and even creating (and typing) this post is taking longer than usual.
Anyway, I hope you are well, and I look forward to seeing you and reading your posts next week when the brain fog has lifted for good, hopefully. I have a lot to share when I return. For today though, I’m closing comments. And I know I owe some replies from prior posts, so please bear with me. I’ll get to them soon. I will leave you with a quick Tanka that I wrote (with brain fog) about one of my symptoms:
each step, inch by inch, feels like liftingcinder blocks don’t take for granted energy your body stores it could vanish suddenly
Have you ever stopped to think about the impression of a breeze… how it brushes aside your face like the tender touch of a lover?
I have a hunch you know what I’m talking about…
when a heat wave invades your personal space – oppressive, and each breath is as difficult as lifting a hundred pound bag of bricks,
a breeze, simple as one is, whisks in as lovely as the sun ascending in tangerines and corals over the hills after a mass of worries pervaded your night’s sleep.
Relief so friendly and delightful as though being welcomed into a new neighborhood with a smile and a freshly baked plate of cookies.
So, next time a breeze leavesa soft touch upon your cheek, place your palm over the connection, inhaling gratitude
because sometimes, sometimes, the simplest of things makes the biggest impact.
We’ll be out of town next week visiting our daughter and son-in-law, so this will be my last post for a while. Stay well, stay cool, stay safe, and as always, thank you for visiting Baydreamer! ❤️