wings [a haiku]

i soar on the heights
all below is verdant green
above -- crystal blue

because I heard the wind

because I heard the wind
once before

it took me far away
on its wings

a cup of chocolate left
growing [c]old

              I could hardly take it
              anymore

              my heart was beating fast
              in tandem

              with the rain coming down --
              torrential

I never could have stayed --
the wind called

too soon I had to leave
without you

is there a place we may
meet again?


I wrote this poem after I finished reading The Girl With No Shadow, which is the sequel to Chocolat, which I read last year. Both books are by Joanne Harris. They are magical realism and both are wonderful stories. The second one especially is a modern fairy tale.

I hope you enjoy this poem that was inspired by these books. :)

shipwreck waiting [a ballad in the making]

This is poetry, of a sort. However, I want to turn this into a ballad something like the songs that the characters in The Lord of the Rings sing. I would like your honest opinion on what I have here so far, because this isn't the finished product!

~Shipwreck Waiting~

An old fisherman once told me

there’s a shipwreck waiting

beneath the cool blue main;

it calls your name.

I asked him where he came from;

he said he didn’t know

but cold winds blew him here

from somewhere far below.

and this is what he told me:

there’s a shipwreck waiting

beneath the cool blue main;

it calls your name.

what good is a legend if no one believes?

What good is a promise that no one will keep?

I wandered far and wide

but all I found was a world

filled with filth and lies.

I asked him where he came from;

he said he didn’t know

but cold winds blew him here

from somewhere far below.

and then he told me:

there’s a shipwreck waiting

beneath the cool blue main;

it calls your name.

Tell me if you can:

Why does the sun shine so bright?

Why do the waves crash upon the shore?

Why are the ghosts of the past

more real and true than those

whose shadows are cast?

what is true and what is real

and are they even the same?

I’d rather read a story older than time

than blunder through a world darker than sin.

the old fisherman smiled as he told me

there’s a shipwreck waiting

beneath the cool blue main;

it calls your name.

his shadow never cast,

his skin translucent in the sun,

somehow he knew my heart

as it coursed the race I run.

I asked him where he came from;

he said he didn’t know

but cold winds blew him here

from somewhere long ago.

Haiku for Frost

the frost's on the ground --
it covers the windowpane --
Old Man Winter wakes

Hello November

hello November
you came with howling winds
and blew away October 
till we couldn't look back again

hello November
you're cold and dark and grim
but full of anticipation
for pumpkin pie and autumn's end

hello November
we have you for Thanksgiving
and last short bursts of sunshine
before winter settles in

nostalgia~ (a prose poem)

(Originally this poem was posted on my regular blog.)

I want the days of hopscotch and blowing bubbles that went shining into the sun. I want to go back
to when going down the playground slide was like
an exhilarating fall to earth. Do you remember when the weather turning cool and the leaves
falling in cascades of color was as magical as a hot summer evening
 with fireflies lighting up the darkness? Why is it that we look back and childhood seems to be so rosy and
 beautiful? It's not like there weren't bad times along with the good.
Maybe we just remember the good more strongly because our brains
 are wired that way. Maybe we just remember the good more strongly because that's the way our society is.
Or maybe it's just that sense of protection, of love and joy that only a child
 untouched by the larger worries of the world can know.
Jesus said to have faith like a little child.
I think I know what He meant; we need to trust in those above us and allow them to shut out the world sometimes. Is this what heaven will be like? Maybe, but we won't know until we're there. Some days I'll think about my childhood, about the awe
and wonder that I knew as I discovered the world. And that it's beautiful, all around.
A touch of nostalgia comes to me when I see a chalk drawing on the sidewalk
and I smile as I remember the days of hopscotch and blowing bubbles that went shining into the sun.

under my umbrella

join me under my umbrella
watch the clouds roll across the sky
please take my hand
while the raindrops fall
hold me close
while the wind is blowing

until the rainbows stretch across the sky
and the sunlight breaks through the clouds
join me under my umbrella