mermaidcamp
Keeping current in wellness, in and out of the water
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We sat on the hill above the flooded river
Watching as towns and farms washed away
Floating downstream on the big cresting waves
Water overflowed the banks and destroyed trees
That had stood on the shore for centuries
Their roots were severed by the current rushing
Swelling, moving the earth beneath their giant limbs
That crashed into the water with furious destructive
Sounds of nature taking her revenge on civilization
The only hopeful sign we could see from our perch
Was the flock of birds flying over their former homes
Taking to the sky to look for a new place to build nests
We envy them their ability to keep the flock together
They fly in tight formation, in search of fairer weather
This poem was written in response to this weeks photo prompt by Sue Vincent on her blog , The Echo. Join bloggers from around the globe for more stories about this photo and last week’s.
This is inspired by Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt
Knock knock, Who’s there? I don’t want to get up from my chair
If you have come to beg for candy I can tell you that the cupboard is bare
If you wanted entertainment you can pass through to the cellar room
Where dangerous characters sit around and complain about the gloom
We have no happy servant to greet you, seat you and serve champagne
These days we are lucky to find a few morsels of food to feed the pain
We brought it all upon ourselves, never caring about the fate of others
Sinister side effects of concentrated self delusion eventually smother
The life out of the privileged and those forced into perpetual service
The end of the road comes to everyone, which makes us all very nervous
Please join writers around the world on Thursdays to read, comment, or submit your own post based on these photos.
The trials and daily shockwaves of fresh tribulation
Rock the airwaves, fill the consciousness of the nation
With opinions of experts and way too much information
To process or to put in order our growing indignation
This is the wool that has been pulled over our eyes
Grown ever more perversely mendacious, spewing lies
In the face of true intelligence to slowly hypnotize
All those who settle for willful blindness and deceit
We eagerly await the moment of dishonesty’s defeat
The tower had been built in the time of the beheadings
Torture and murder were the order of the day
They wiped out knights and murdered the queens
Who did not please the monarch by giving him a male heir
Some of my ancestors lost their heads, fortunes, and means
As players in the center of the Tudor dynasty reign of terror
Some spent their last night in confinement writing poetry
To leave a written legacy to the future subjects of the crown
The sorrow and the suffering of every tortured soul is evident
The stones are carved with the names of the doomed who have past
While the window weeps tears of the ghosts who haunt the present
With their unresolved memories of cruel and heartless treatment
Looking from this point of view we can see the harm done by violence
This poem is in response to this week’s photo prompt from Sue Vincent’s Echo. Join writers from around the globe each week to read, comment, or write your own story for #writephoto.
While time passes by your window and blows through your mind
Where are your connections to the natural world?
Are you just habitually blind?
Does the rising of the tide of hatred sting your immortal soul?
Or do you sit in the corner twiddling your thumbs
When everyone becomes a merciless troll?
Did you have a purpose for being born on earth?
If so you better get to work, because things are getting worse
If we could hear the stories antique vehicles might reveal
About all their owners and their follies if only they could
Terrible decisions, stormy weather, shattered windshield
Narrow escape followed by a downhill run through the wood
Finally in this time they are treated like rare treasures at last
They represent the beauty, the art, and the culture of the past
Rumbling pipes, paint jobs and restoration done with pride
The hod rod is a symbol. It is more than just a fabulous ride.
It has been a wild and wonderful ride all month on the poetry train. Keep up with the poets at #NaPoWriMo until next April. I urge you to write, read, and recite to enrich your life. Words can lead to amazing places.
We must follow the money and follow the lies
The twists and turns of political intrigue
Burrow deeply into the system to hide from the wise
The secrecy and dishonesty of the big league
The veils must be lifted, the truth must be told
Our leaders deceive us, the facts they withhold
Our nation’s future hangs in the balance between
Those false facades, their mendacity, and coming clean
This month follow the poets at the #NaPoWriMo site to find new poetry, prompts, and contests. Try your hand a busting a rhyme.
If we were having coffee this weekend I would offer you your beverage on ice. The weather is warming up quickly, and the wind is blowing outside. The jasmine in the front yard is in full bloom so the breeze is heavily scented as it wafts in through the screen door. It is pleasant this morning, but later you will need your parasol and sunscreen. Relax for a while and tell me how your week has been.
We enjoyed our time away last weekend at the Deep Dirt Farm sleeping in a tiny adobe house. It was the perfect celebration of Earth Day for us. The town of Patagonia, AZ is darling. The humming bird center was very cool, but not so populated with hummers. There are more in my yard in Tucson at this point. There are many birds down there we do not have. Our encounter with nature and farming could not have been better. We plan to return in the future. It is an ideal retreat for us.
We picked vegetables from the farm’s greenhouse to bring home then ate a wonderful breakfast in town before leaving. The drive is beautiful because the elevation changes, and the vegetation along with it. The desert plant ocotillo is in bloom now, painting the landscape with brilliant red flowers on tall sticks. I wanted to stop to take a look at them, but there are few opportunities to turn out on the road. We stopped at a winery to take in the view. I tasted the wine, which was pretty good, and we noticed how strong the wind was. Then we looked across the valley to see the Sawmill Fire, just as it began. The dry grass is kindling for the wildfire, which has spread all across the area rapidly. I tried to find news on twitter, but it had not yet become news. We saw the smoke growing as we finished the drive home. It was a spooky and terrifying reminder of Mother Earth and her freaky powers. We had seen burned scorched land from a previous wildfire along the road and I had just remarked that a fire now would be fed loads of dry grass and be hard to contain…and that is exactly what happened. The cause seems to be target shooting by an off duty Border Patrol officer. He caused it and reported it right away, but the fire still raged out of control. It is early in the year for fires in Arizona. This does not bode well for the summer.
If we were having iced tea to take our minds of the fire, I would tell you that I am almost finished with #NaPoWriMo this year. I always say each year that I will continue to do a poem each day on my tumblr, but it hasn’t happened yet. I still need to crank out two more for this month, then we shall see where the poetic muse will reside in the month of May. No predictions. I plan to review teas, and may do it on Tuesdays on Tumblr. That could be poetic perhaps.
If you want to catch up with other digital beverage drinkers please visit Nerd in the Brain, where the party continues each weekend. Read, comment, or submit your own coffee share post.
When barriers go up they exclude thought
They intend to protect, but offer no real shield
From the harsh reality that must be taught
In order for the entire community to be healed
Boundaries are healthy, they define our rules
Selfish stonewalls of ignorance are built by fools
Know the difference between freedom and deceit
Listen carefully for shenanigans and vain conceit
Don’t bind your mind too tightly, don’t hide in your yard
You may find, to your dismay, you’re hoist with your own petard
Please join poets in the month of April for National Poetry Writing Month. Find new material to enjoy at the #NaPoWriMo site, or by following the hashtags on social media.
The nursery was filled with heirloom toys and games
The aunts and uncles made suggestions for names
The curse was strong in the family, since the soothsayer
Foretold the demise of the monarchy by a betrayer
A child not of woman born would come along one day
To end the lineage of oppression by which royals play
Centuries have past since the spell had been cast
No heir to the throne has left the dollhouse and rocking horse alone
This poem is inspired by the photo by Sue Vincent, who shares a prompt each Thursday in The Daily Echo. Join writers from around the world to create your own story or poem.
Poets are still on board to submit 30 poems in thirty days on the poetry train. It is not too late to catch a ride at the #NaPoWriMo site. You may be a poet…and not even know it.