rising from deserts
yellow wildflowers reach
and find each other
more circles from the poets at one single impression
*wildflowers courtesy of Go John Trail, Cave Creek, AZ
*wildflowers courtesy of Go John Trail, Cave Creek, AZ
Recently in poetry Category
rising from deserts
yellow wildflowers reach
and find each other
sunkissed clouds embrace
wind blowing through your absence
spring returns with you
more impressions of kindness can be found at the new community at one single impression (formally one deep breath)
wind blowing through your absence
spring returns with you
more impressions of kindness can be found at the new community at one single impression (formally one deep breath)
your ancient problems
molded by wind and rain and time
solved in climbers grace
more breaths of boulders from the poets at one deep breath
One of the things I failed to touch on in my earlier post about my last couple weeks in Oregon, is perhaps one of the most important things I did while I was home in Eugene for the two and a half weeks. Because all of the grandchildren were going to be in town, we were going to inter my grandmothers ashes. My grandfather had wanted to wait for a time when we could all easily be there. My sister, who lives in NYC, had flown back just a couple days before my grandmother passed. Because my grandmother did not want a funeral, there was no rush to bury her ashes.
The whole family drove up to the small cemetery where her ashes would rest. They would be put directly into the ground next to her parents. My uncle dug a small hole and my grandfather opened the box her ashes were in and poured them directly into the ground. What remained of my grandmother would at least feel the earth around her as she wanted. Yet again, however, I learned about love from the eyes of my grandfather. This haiku is for him.
for grandpa
her ashes covered
within the dirt. his tears truth.
their love still evolves.
past breaths for my grandparents:
odb: legacy, odb: storms, odb: a new year, odb: roots
more breaths from the poets at one deep breath
The whole family drove up to the small cemetery where her ashes would rest. They would be put directly into the ground next to her parents. My uncle dug a small hole and my grandfather opened the box her ashes were in and poured them directly into the ground. What remained of my grandmother would at least feel the earth around her as she wanted. Yet again, however, I learned about love from the eyes of my grandfather. This haiku is for him.
for grandpa
her ashes covered
within the dirt. his tears truth.
their love still evolves.
past breaths for my grandparents:
odb: legacy, odb: storms, odb: a new year, odb: roots
more breaths from the poets at one deep breath
a faithful ember
sustains through a dark night softly
illuminating
more tiny pretty breaths at one deep breath
these are the shape of
things. sun prays. rain believes. wind
doubts. above all they dream.
more breaths of architecture from the poets at one deep breath
at the mountain's peak
poems alive without breathing
words tossed to the wind
they hang in the mist seeping
so completely we forget
--a Renga written with Elizabeth Moore
more breathtaking views from the poets at one deep breath
For the majority of my life, I've lived in the Northwest. As a result I've come to enjoy the rain. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the sun and welcome its return each spring, but I also look forward to the return of the rain come October. The rain is what helps Oregon retain its majestic beauty. So my response to this weeks prompt at One Deep Breath is dedicated to the rain, that nurtures our environment and provides our fresh water.
rain (a haiku)
in solace journey
to your collected presence
from grey life sustains
