Finding Poetry, a haibun #dVerse

Written for Monday night’s haibun at dVerse.

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Finding Poetry

Regarding poetry writing, I am a late bloomer. Fiction ruled my heart and mind although I loved words and rhythm and sound. Poetry was like a mystical voice, too enigmatic to undertake until I found poetry by Neruda, Mary Oliver, and Jane Kenyon, such different voices whispering to me, yet each echoing a love of words. Beautiful, hungry words.

Today, it’s only Mary Oliver whose poems I read over and over, sharing her affinity for nature, wishing I could weave the webs she does with philosophy so subtly strewn in natural history so the “aha” is never far away. Perhaps it is easier if you have farmland and a pond where egrets and heron stand one-legged or hear the croak of night’s bullfrogs or the screech of the pale-faced owl, where the fog hovers until burned away by the rising sun, and not the constant thrum of traffic on a beltway of congestion and dissonance.

 

Robins evening choir.

Yellow daffodils budding

despite new spring snow.


Despite tomorrow being the first day of Spring we are going to have winter weather. Like 2017, February was spring and March is winter.

end 3/19/2018

Sascha Darlington

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27 thoughts on “Finding Poetry, a haibun #dVerse

    • Thank you. And thank you for this prompt. It was not only an interesting investigation for me remembering how I came to write poetry, but I have loved reading every else’s entry. We all come to it from such different places.

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  1. I shall go to the back of the class—I have never even heard of Mary Oliver! I like your words though, and I agree with your reasoning, it’s much easier to have a serene outlook on the world when you are not choking on traffic fumes.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I share your love of Mary Oliver, and I’ve enjoyed hearing about your poetic journey. The haiku is timely and appropriate. On this, the first day of Spring, we have a winter weather advisory and prediction of snow!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. “Perhaps it is easier if you have farmland and a pond where egrets and heron stand one-legged or hear the croak of night’s bullfrogs or the screech of the pale-faced owl, where the fog hovers until burned away by the rising sun, and not the constant thrum of traffic on a beltway of congestion and dissonance.”

    You painted such a vivid picture in my mind of egrets and herons and bullfrogs in these lines – you have a beautiful way with words!

    Liked by 1 person

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