Flowering beauty
Provider for wildlife
Nutritious seeds drop
From your toxic fruit
Named for your thick hardy leaves
Upon which autographs may be written
Write the truth
Survive at all costs
Strangle the host
Autograph Tree Bloom
Northern Shoveler
These migratory ducks are among the many amazing birds that inhabit Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge. Though they are common in many parts of the world, they are new to me. I slowly drove the 7 miles of one-way, limestone packed road called Black Point Wildlife Drive. Meandering through saltwater marsh, I spent over two hours, stopping frequently alongside experienced birders (of which I am not), viewing hundreds of resident and migratory birds. I regret that I did not have time to explore the national seashore as well and definitely intend to return to the area.
I. J.’s Birds of the Week XLVIII
Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – Hobbies by Gerry and Sue
A chōka: Fleeing South
Great snowstorms up north
Winter’s wrath is upon us
Fleeing as a bird
Seeking respite from the cold
Frigid winds blow south
Sought warmth remains elusive
Bare branches taunting
Defying the need for green
No doubt I shall persevere
Settled in deep south
Biting northern winds muzzled
Cool breeze on bare skin
Thawed in the warmth of the sun
A gift of spring in winter
Aquamarine
Aquamarine seas
Scarcely a sea swell
Calm aquamarine waters
Long exhale of breath
With pelicans… ❤️
Terri’s Sunday Stills Monthly Color Challenge: Ethereal #Aquamarine
RDP Monday: SWELL by sgeoil
Aquamarine beetle
Bridges Before Walls
We build too many walls and not enough bridges.
Isaac Newton
Leya’s Lens-Artists Challenge #283 – Illustrate a Favourite Quote or Poem
Lost City
He stands in the courtyard of the lost city, holding an old scroll of ancient parchment. The archaic language written thereupon is similar to the primitive languages he had studied most of his scholarly life. It speaks of treasures hidden beneath the old city, though some of the text he could not decipher. He knew the password, but he didn’t know what it would unlock. Picking up the head of the god, he places it in the niche above the nearest door. Nothing. He methodically walks from door to door, inserting the head into each adjacent niche. Frustrated, he moves to the center of the courtyard, circling. What had he missed?
Looking down in defeat, he discovers a familiar square shaped indentation. Could it be? He inserts the square base of the head into the cavity. It clicks into place. For a moment, there is nothing but stillness. Then the earth begins to rumble. He just manages to leap out of the way, as the blocks on which he had stood part. An enormous statue rises from the ground. The head that he so recently held stares down upon him with seeming animosity. His fear and excitement are palpable. On the right foot of the statue is a stone keypad. Referencing the parchment, he presses with great effort the stone with the red sun, followed by the yellow moon and the orange star. Quickly backing away, he watches in amazement as the statue’s right foot slides backwards revealing an underground staircase. With a silent prayer, he turns on his headlamp and descends the stairs.
Hidden
Beneath the surface
an old soul remains
buried under layers
of contemporary viewpoints
that leave the foundation within
forgotten and derelict
Chipping away the layers
slowly reveals the essence
of the structures origin
reviving primal access
W3 Prompt #90: Wea’ve Written Weekly’s host, David himself, prompts us to “…try our hands at a relatively simple ‘nonce’ poetic form that I created. It is called the ‘Jamb-Jitsu’.”
Jamb-Jitsu?
- Two stanzas (S1 and S2) with three rules:
- S1 must have more lines than S2;
- ALL lines of S1 must employ enjambment;
- Enjambment is: the running-over of a sentence or phrase from one poetic line to the next, without terminal punctuation;
- ALL lines of S2 must have the same number of syllables
A gogyohka: Eastern Bluebird
Hello little bluebird
Vivid blue muted in anticipation of spring
The north wind does not deter
Patiently perched at the birdbath
Waiting for the ice to melt
Colleen’s 24 Seasons Syllabic Poetry Challenge, No. 17
I. J.’s Birds of the Week XLVII
Foolish Games
She stares into her bathroom mirror, a smug smile upon her face. She did it! She revealed herself to her lover’s wife during the celebration of their twentieth wedding anniversary. A posh restaurant, a shared bottle of champagne, live piano music… Perfect, except for the unexpected guest. She giggles at the recent memory. He and his wife, sitting at an intimate little table in the corner, deep in whispered conversation. His crumbling facade as he witnesses her approach. Her smile falters a bit recalling the cold expression in the wife’s eyes. No matter, he will be all hers now. Her smile broadens.
But that smile was the last smile to come upon her face. Awaiting his arrival, she turns on the television for distraction. A breaking news story publicizes her lover’s portrait, murdered outside a trendy restaurant. A manhunt underway for the suspected murderer.
dVerse Prosery — January 15, hosted by Lisa (msjadeli)
Lisa prompts us to write a piece of prose up to 144 words, incorporating the line: “But that smile was the last smile to come upon her face.” A line from the heart-wrenching Ballad of Birmingham by Dudley Randall.
Image created using Bing Image Generator.
Moving Windows
Through a bus window
Through a train window
Through a plane window
Through a boat window
JJJ Interactive Books 