Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Hallow's Edge

Over in the Garden, it is a bit spooky....beware of orbs and howling tonight!  Watch your step, as you journey out n' about on this Hallowed evening...

Beware of my neighbor Mrs. Kravitz.  She is a bit ill, she has turned a bit green, lol.

Some of us will transform tonight, by the light of the Amber Moon....beware some of your friends may be fiends....

 Are you here for a Trick or a Treat?!   ;D this photo, just for YOU!  

Trick a magic spell...not sure what the results will be...muWHhahaha....

Inky dark curls
her sea green eyes
she knows
twilight keeps
eager vines climb
the Magnolia tree
reaching outward towards the blush of 
a day's surrender
passions eye 
reflects on the Silver Lake
listen you
can hear secret wings
high on the Crescent hill
distilled dreams
alter flames
of heart's poison 
His spirit
that wanders till the dawn hath cross'd
the dolorous dark, or Earth hath wound
He isn't mine
she chants
I'll beguile him 
( this year)
in the sweet idle hours
I light the red taper
annointed with
Rose oil
as the dried sage burns
my rustic muse
I transform
my cloak of Indigo kisses reaches
his outline in the faint, warm fog
Rose thorn carves his name in
the pool of melted rouge
see him
in the element of fire

I used the poem Low Barometer by Robert Bridges

Saturday, October 27, 2012

Sunday Mini Challenge

Over in the Garden, Kerry prompted us with a  Melancholia type poem.  It relies on a syllable count and rhyme scheme. 

For example:

Silently without my window,  (a)   8 syllables
Tapping gently at the pane,  (b)   7 syllables 
Falls the rain.  (b)   3 syllables
Through the trees sighs the breeze (Internal rhyme c / c) 6 syllables
Like a soul in pain.  (b)   5 syllables
Here alone I sit and weep;  (d)   7 syllables
Thought hath banished sleep.  (d)   5 syllables

This form was developed by Paul Laurence Dunbar.

© Isadora Gruye

Izy I love this photo!   So fits the mood of the season :D

Mournful cries echo in the damp chill 
silhouette outlines dark mood  
I can't speak
burning imprint, I squint  
shoulder squeeze, I gasp
gray ghost materializes
horrified I run 

eye wide awake I feel dead
a freezing chill in my bones
madness wears
 a gray face, in its place
thick black clouds hang low
A murder here, not long ago
faint whispers took my life 

(Mrs. White did it, in the dining room with a knife)
She killed Mr. Body and Prof. Plum and left
Miss Scarlett bleeding in the Library
She had been reading "Gone With The Wind"
Colonial Mustard never had a chance,
off of the Kitchen he was hung out to dry.
Mr. Green was attacked by the Venus Fly Trap,
 in the Conservatory!
Mrs. Peacock left the roost, crazy as a cuckoo
and was never heard from again. 

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Izy's Prompt

Over in the Garden, Izy prompted us to write a poem with the mechanics of farming. I tried to do some research, but finally ended up watching a You tube video.  This was truly a brilliant challenge. So here is my contribution to Izy's prompt!

 *  Copyrighted, Isadora Gruye Photography.

                                              A whirr of wings among the fields of gold
                                             Blackbirds caw and announce the Queen's arrival
                                                       tree toads sing in the background
                                                              Ruby Queen sits high on her throne
                                                                       let the games begin
                                                                                 Steel grinds like a stripper
                                                                                          turning the deck's
                                                                                            plated blades as the bullet rotor roars
                                                                                                a war of steel battles darkness and
                                                                                                        allusive Ruby Queen
                                                                                                        marauders arrive in
                                                                                                        a whirr of wings
                                                                                                       swooping down
                                                                                                        to find treasured gold
                                                                                              Star wars type equipment sweeps
                                                                                         making a dent in the mature flesh
                                                                                  mold and vermin enemies in this war
                                                                            boys with big toys battle Mother Nature's fury
                                                                          and hope to win this round
                                                                        in time for the summer's eve movie   
                   and some matinee gold~   
© Ellen Wilson     

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Over in the Garden

Kerry asked us to write a poem in the first person, as the Unreliable Narrator.  I just read a  story that did just that. I had to write an essay on it.  So, this is my poem, at the end I will share the book.  I am also going to add this to Poets United prompt. I think it has the layering effect, like Encaustic Art does.


My husband thinks I'm a bundle of nerves
and brings me to this colonial home
 by the sea
lovely outside, beautiful gardens
inside ick 
a flamboyant pattern of contradiction

Sickly sulfur yellow that commits the sins of
of stripping one's mood
Merry Sunshine couldn't live here
he thinks I'm ungrateful
he says, "You need rest my dear"
He may be a Dr for others, but he doesn't get me
I tell him that I'm fine,
He thinks I need rest
shutting me in a room, with barred windows
no stimulation
I need friends, tea parties and
 time out in the garden
Am I a prisoner?

Hubby sees blush pink 
in my cheeks
weight gained
 and I'm rested.
I write when no one is looking-some
think it
is the writing that
strangles my nerves
 this god forsaken ugly room
 hideous, dreadful scent?
a yellow smell
by the light of a candle I see her
she is there, plain as day
she puzzles me
only appears in moon's light 
on the wall paper I see her bulbous eyes
she shakes the walls, the windows
She is creeping...
Hubby knocks "Darling let me in?"
"I'm tired dear, not now"... I smirk
No way, not till the paper is removed
I'm helping the creeping woman tear it down

 The poem is based on the book, "The Yellow Wallpaper" ~Charlotte Perkins Gilman
It is based back in the 1890s when a woman after giving birth was told her nerves were bad and was taken away from the baby and put in a quiet room, to rest.  The main character narrates the book. It includes her descent into Postpartum Depression. 

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Words Count

Over in the garden, Mama Zen challenged us with a prompt!  Mama Zen asked us to write about conflict, in our poem.  The big challenge must be in 30 words or under...yikes!!!  Now, that is a conflict, lol     I mean challenge ;D

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Snapdragon thoughts 
scatter like gold dust
Rose colored glasses
Lime green lizards slither
their briny tongues
Sulfur Mums
bleeding into my
Blue Iris 

Over at Poets United ,I provided a SARK challenge for Wonder??? Wednesday...

Deep Amethyst in a Calamine sunset looks
for the hidden mirage
First Blush 
hidden Coral Blossom 
opening it's spirit
in a mystic, translucent glow
Yellow Duchess starts to move
like a Bumble Bee finding
a Pale moonlight Daffodil
Remote Green Sea Nymph 
waiting for the ephemeral bloom
to marry the
 Bonnie Blue sea
Nymph releases her gift
an amulet of
 Rose Quartz hope

I wanted to do a colorful poem for SARK~  I have an addiction-to paint chips! I decided to use some of their names in my poem~