The Cosmos Is Blooming! #napowrimo #dverse #amwriting

This is for dVerse and ekphrastic poetry, but also for napowrimo, where I am making a small attempt at ketchuping. (Yes, my newly invented word 😉 .)

Please do check out Fay Collins’ art. The link is under the picture of these ethereal cosmos.

The Cosmos Is Blooming!

He guffaws when I say

“the cosmos are blooming” Continue reading

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Dove Love, NaPoWriMo Day 19

Yep. I’ve probably missed 17 days. But you know I love ketchup.

mourning dove

©Sascha Darlington

Dove Love

The male mourning dove coos his evocative song

his neck widens, his tiny pink feet dance Continue reading

Spring Sometime, a haibun

written for dVerse haibun Monday

Spring Sometime, a haibun

The days are longer now. Typically I’ve shed my winter wool, placed warmer-weather clothes front and center, but the heat is on, and there’s a freeze-warning for tonight. The cherry blossoms have passed. The grass around the tree looks as if it’s been snowed upon with pinkish-hued white petals. My breath curls upward, white. Traffic on the beltway flows, such a winter sound in deep cold, reaches me, the steady hum like ocean waves.

It struck me how odd it was, while walking my dog, bundling myself in my coat, that light still lingered. I never could remember being wrapped so tightly so late in the evening with dusk hovering, the sun setting mauve, and robins caroling.

birds of spring arrive

spring flowers pierce cold hard soil

blossoming yellow

 

Sascha Darlington 4/17/2018

Finding Poetry, a haibun #dVerse

Written for Monday night’s haibun at dVerse.

dream_7dfbkqy6dn2

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. Continue reading

Preach

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Preach

I believe

you believe

yourself holy

going to church

religiously

on Sundays

piously righteous

and then

you display

“Guns don’t kill”

on your feed

smug

smile in place.

If hell exists,

faces of the pious

holding guns

protecting guns

advocating guns

line its walls.

“When will they ever learn?

 

When will they ever learn?”

 

2/24/2018

Sascha Darlington

Shrouded Sun

Shrouded Sun

 

I cried as he spoke

of his little girl

of how a parent

should never bury a child

of how instead of girlish giggles

there’s cold silence

grayness on golden days

a single ubiquitous cloud

shrouding his sun.

How can one remain unmoved

knowing dreams, futures

smiles, songs, singing

laughter, weddings, babies–died?

Hearts cannot be mended with gauze.

Ice dwells where warmth was.

 

2/23/2018

Sascha Darlington

submitted to dVerse open link.