Poetry Swap Pocket

My last Summer 2017 Poetry Swap parcel arrived this week and I was quite bowled over by it. Linda Baie sure knows how to pack a lot of goodies into a little bubble mailer!

She sent me—a pocket! How perfect for a habitual walker who is always grabbing for a tissue or a notebook or a camera out of her pocket!

This pocket was packed with: a personal note, a notebook, a Pilot pen (even the brand name seems perfect), mints, a (real cloth embroidered) hankie, a couple of pine cones along with a legend about them (perfect to entertain my grands!), a piece of petrified wood, a poem bookmark, and the most darling little black feather you ever saw!

Pocket treasures from Linda B. – Summer 2017 Poetry Swap (Photo by V. Nesdoly)

And this poem… (Linda, you are amazing! – Thank you!!)

Linda, you’ve tied it up perfectly with those last five lines: “doing art … gathering bouquets of images … a crystal vase of ideas.” I’m totally inspired!

**********
This post is linked to Poetry Friday, hosted today by poet and photographer Jone at Check It Out.

There, Jone challenges us to an Acrostic. Well, I just happen to have one in my Summer Shorts (poem-a-day photo-challenge project). It’s all about the PRODUCE (the August 3rd #CY365 prompt)

Photo for “Produce – #CY365 for August 3, 2017 (© 2017 by V. Nesdoly)

PRODUCE

Parsnip, turnip, bok choy
Rutabaga, beet
Orange carrots in a row
Daikon long and white
Under produce mirror-bin
Cabbage doubles round and green–those
Egos swell as veggies preen

© 2017 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)

 

Where I Stand

My summer poem project has given me a lot of joy… and it’s far from over. As I mentioned yesterday, I’m working on Summer Shorts, a project that combines my love of photography with my desire for poetry to be part of everyday life. Summer Shorts is writing a short poem a day, every day of summer (June 21 to September 21) based on the photo I take from the Capture Your 365 photo challenge.

I actually don’t write every day, but do take a photo every day. On days when I have extra time, I catch up, though often I find these poems practically write themselves during my walk, as words and lines come to me. I always carry a notebook, so I perch myself on a railing or park bench and capture those flighty thoughts mid-walk. Because I’ve promised myself these poems will be short, it’s not intimidating. Who can’t write 3 to 6 lines a day?

Most of the photo challenges are different each day. But a few keep recurring every month. One such is “Where I Stand.” Here’s my “Where I Stand” photo and poem for July 21st. (It happens to be the longest poem in the collection so far… a few over my required 6 lines.)

#CY365 photo for July 21, 2017 –  “Where I Stand” (Photo © 2017 by V. Nesdoly)

pat a dog,
photo the fog

pick a bloom,
pixel a room

chat with a friend
ponder the bend

follow my nose
to smell a rose

stop for a hare
hopping who knows where

admire the herd
find the lyric bird

be lured to tarry
and munch on a berry

my motto for a summer walk:
“Always be prepared to stop!”

© 2017 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)

*************
This post is linked to Poetry Friday, hosted today by our very talented troubadour Donna at Mainely Write.

 

 

Walking in the rain

When the glory of fall has passed, I still walk, often in the rain.

I have heard about how rain affects people in different locations differently; some are downright jubilant about its coming. I wonder if living in the soggy southwest of Canada (/ northwest of the U.S.) would dampen their enthusiasm.

“mallard couples glide where yesterday / they waddled…” (Photo © 2016 by V. Nesdoly)

“… the rain … is pouring down, humming and tapping the floor. … It is getting fragrant. I am barefoot, dancing, jumping and running madly.” – Rizawa F. Syeda-Kazmi

Trees writhe, kowtow to squally air
rain beats tantrum gusts

races down roofline, puddles dance
the forecast—walk later, not now.

I leave between sobs
last tears damp and curl my hair.

Sky is soon weeping again
we are deluged in her woes

my hooded anorak
listens to the wet complaints.

Rain’s ally, the muddy Nicomekl
has claimed the flood plain

mallard couples glide where yesterday
they waddled through squishy grass.

I press on, blurry-eyed
needing wipers for my glasses.

Front steps glisten. Shake the misery
off leaden coat, hang it by the fire

and recall, incredulous
desert story of rain celebrations

where men drive to ditches, jump in
dance crazy, open-armed when sky drops water.

© 2013 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)
First published in Time of Singing – Volume 40 Intermezzo, Fall 2013

**************

This post is linked to Poetry Friday, hosted today by the one-and-only Jama, at Jama’s Alphabet Soup.