Monday, April 22, 2019

Things men told me (Day 824)


Again, the ornamental cherries bloom
fruitlessly fake   empty calories   
dripping great gobs of frosting flowers   
tempting    things men told me
   there’s a glow about you tonight 
   you are beautiful in the morning light 
   how wild and free you are   
      like a lion   untamed  
that last was the oddest   heartfelt and 
   almost touching in the awkward way 
   of an eight-year-old who shuffles 
   and looks down as he hands 
   his mother the gift of his heart   
artless and abundant   the things 
   you hear when they want or don't want    
how the petals drift and hurry on 
   the sharp breeze stripping spring 
   from cherry trees that will 
never offer ripe flesh to summer’s heat


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: MaxPixel

Sunday, April 21, 2019

Cento 76 (Day 823)

like maple syrup  a sapling 
like him might have been 
a little sweeter  
lingering over a trophy 
goodbye  trees set against 
a buttery dawn 
know how to bend 
the nature of things  some ask 
to be released from the pinnacle 
of power  and to sway is to change 
finally resting among a crowd 
 
(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: Pixabay

Saturday, April 20, 2019

Haiku for Day 822

sunlight foreshadows
bare limbs sprayed green, yellow, pink
nature’s graffiti 


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Perpignan, graffiti rue Guillaume Dauder de Selvavia Wikimedia Commons

Friday, April 19, 2019

An unusual silence (Day 821)

Rain taps nervously on the window, 

reminding me of an unusual silence


another listless day, tasting of ozone 

and buttered toast, slightly burnt,


slumps toward night, breathing tepid 

promises of billowing May, heady 


with flutterings, and afternoon storms 

bending these gold-tipped trees



(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Embroidery sampler (1840s), Mexico,

via Wikimedia Commons


Wednesday, April 17, 2019

Beside me (Day 819)


When you see me 
sitting here, the sun 
bright in my eyes 
and warm 
on my arms, 
you may think I am 
alone. But that 
chair beside me 
is not empty. 
When the world 
seems too fierce 
and burdens 
too heavy to bear, 
I offer them a seat—
and, there, they wait
patiently, for me 
to rise again.

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: PxHere

Tuesday, April 16, 2019

Tanka for Day 818

 

Doors open to spring

All things sing and bud and bloom.

Pale blue breeze lingers.


Drifts of snow, now merely dreams.

Rising mist glows, whispers: Yes


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six