Wednesday, June 26, 2019

In waves (Day 889)


Ochre ribbon   decked with 
curling skeins of grass 
and kelp   unraveling 
in waves   dissolving 
amidst a passionate embrace

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: Ian Caldwell (CC BY-SA 2.5)
(Learn about North Ronaldsay sheep)

Tuesday, June 25, 2019

A Rare Day (Day 888)


It’s a rare day 
when I fail to think of you
in grief   your memory still comforts
in faded cotton  trailing barefoot 
   on a path beside railroad tracks 
      in July’s sere heat
in joy   your light shines through 
my eyes   moonwhite   dreams 
   of romance bursting in a heart
      too large for your too-small town   
it’s a rare day 
when I do not see you   standing 
   by a window   one hand cradling 
      the opposite elbow
in something diaphanous   
   enjoying the admiration 
      of your remembered beaux
those darling boys   cigarette akimbo   
eyes on the distance   and yet  
   in red   twirling   
      laughing as you danced away


In memory of my grandmother, LaVaughn Louise (Edwards) Baker, 
shown on the right, next to her twin sister, LaNore. 

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image of Carmel, CA: vtsr/Flickr (CC BY 2.0)

Monday, June 24, 2019

No idea (Day 887)

Even when silence paints his walls gray, 
his door opens inward, toward drenching 
rain, and sleet, and snow three feet deep 
or more. Among this surging crowd he did 
not think he’d last so long, resting on his 
deep green, but looking at that man makes 
him feel something or other. Is anyone here 
real? Waitress tells him she has no idea.


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: Kenneth C Zirkel
(CC BY-SA 4.0)

Sunday, June 23, 2019

Summer Porch (Day 886)

Surprise! A guest poet for Day 886! Today’s poem 
was submitted by Denise Wyant, a dear friend 
and multi-talented writer. 
Lazy summer breeze
Squirrels frolicking to and fro
Sinking into my wicker chair
Sweet iced tea, nearly empty glass
Simple pleasures are the best memories

Words and image (c) 2019, by Denise Wyant
Follow Denise, and see more of her gorgeous 
photography, on Instagram at @cwrg65




(PS. But I just couldn’t ignore my #poemaday streak. Oh, the self-imposed pressure! 😉 
So I jotted down a quick poem, which you may see one day. hs)

Saturday, June 22, 2019

In a Crowd (Day 885)


I was not lonely
    alone   it took two
to make me so   sometimes
more   whole cities
    synchronized   crowds
        choreographed   precise
            clockwork movements
highlighting the quiet
in which I moved   
    enfolded   silent   
in their midst   alone I was 
not lonely   usually   it took 
    you to make me so


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: Public Domain Pictures

Friday, June 21, 2019

Gallimaufry (Day 884)

Utterly transient, this wind-scoured day, 
lunching in your car, in the parking lot 
of a three-star restaurant, windows open 
to the sound of high heels tapping asphalt, 
of helium laughter, deliberately timed

Home, curtains wafting, another coffee, 
another walk-the-dog, neighbors creaking 
on hollow, hardwood floors, and phone 
silent as Sleeping Beauty, who waltzes in 
from a close-knit, southern town, muddy 
landscape of politics, religion, ignorance

We might all like to be someone someday, 
but luck is just a bundle of noise, hammers 
pound on a roof halfway down the block, 
vociferous robin holds forth in a cherry tree 
near the door, solo cricket tests the pale
afternoon air, waits, but no one answers

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: Michael Jastremski/Open Photo

Wednesday, June 19, 2019

Autumn’s restless heart (Day 882)

Autumn’s restless heart 
stirs beneath this August 
day   fine and green 
as emeralds  dream-strewn 
cicadas wake and climb
toward water-laden air
where trees   exhausted   rest
safeguarding next year’s buds
against the failing light

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: jplenio/Pixabay

Tuesday, June 18, 2019

Not far to walk (in the rain) [Day 881]


It’s not far to walk 

in the rain

warm concrete 

steam and ozone 

perfume


It’s not far to walk

in the rain

tires hissing and 

buckled sidewalks 

darkening


If you know where

you come from

you’ll know

where to go


If you know where

you’re going 

you’ll get there

in time


It’s not far to walk

In the rain

remembering how 

your world shone 

in the sun


The road’s hardest 

when you feel alone

but it’s not far

not too far to walk

in the rain

on your own


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Pexels

Monday, June 17, 2019

Shadow Chaser (Day 880)

Summer catches midday
returns smoothly  hands full 
of honey-bursting plums

azalea-shaded gray cat  
awash with insouciance  
extends  belly firmly pressed 
in cool gray dirt  

one slitted amber eye follows 
a duo of cavorting kittens  
a third rests apart  mesmerized 

by the changeable cast 
of shadows  trailing a sky-full 
of plump apricot clouds

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: Oliver Schwarz/Pexels

Saturday, June 15, 2019

Cento 27 (Day 878)

Since that day  a door closed 

gray as iron  and twice as cold

The mirror of tragedy suddenly 

burst into garlands of sparkling 

spring   and the deep sighing 

sky seeps in around the edges


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Mark Fasse (CC BY-SA 3.0)

Friday, June 14, 2019

Impulsive Earth (Day 877)


impulsive earth

living and dying and living 

   again   allowing 

for mysteries

for hillsides of sunflowers tracking 

   the slow progress of hours 

for swathes of ancient evergreens 

   obsured by pearl-tinged showers

for the echo of spiraling galaxies

   in even the smallest nautilus shell

our handful of minor comforts 

a destination worth defending 

this dream 

   from which we never want to wake


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: NASA/ESA


Thursday, June 13, 2019

Pianoforte (Day 876)


Centuries have unfolded

since he 

last reached out   

   caressed 

dark weighted keys

his hand   

               warm   graceful

and they   aligned 

in stark formation  have been 

kind to him   to we

who knew 

                him

who sang 

                him 

like a woodlark’s song


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Edgar Degas, Four Dancers (1899), 

oil on canvas, via Wikimedia Commons

Wednesday, June 12, 2019

Grave words (Day 875)


This cavorting   careless 

as March 

   winds  indigo-stained  

grave words 

      barbed   serrated

   trickling across the page 

      or splayed   arcane

secrets exposed   apricots 

   split   kernels 

      revealed   received


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: PxHere


Tuesday, June 11, 2019

Indifference (Day 874)

looking away, shadows 

stand out in stark contrast


indifference, like smoke, 

softens bitter edges


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Neal Herbert/US NPS

Monday, June 10, 2019

Prairie (Day 873)

The sun pricked diamonds 

in the air   we sat 

so still   barely moving 

under the leaden afternoon heat

in a berry-drenched murmur   

kind carmine Os scattered gemlike 

in the grass at our feet   

dreaming of the future   ancient 

and withered   almost quieter than 

the vivid lichen-scarred prairie  

persuasive as summer 

definite as January 


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Jakob Koganowsky, Farmhouse in the Summer 

Light (1927), oil on canvas, via Wikimedia Commons


Sunday, June 9, 2019

Fluttering (Day 872)

dusk-speckled wings 

whirl   buffeting window 

screens   eclipsing 

porch lights   fluttering 

after immortality


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: PxHere

Saturday, June 8, 2019

Debut (Day 871)

where silvery clouds 

sway and waltz   swirling 

across the pristine 

cinnamon floor   blooming 

generous kisses melt 

a damask night 

averting innocence and

quenching vigorous thirsts


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Wilhelm Gause, Court Ball at 

the Hofburg (1900), via Wikimedia Commons


Friday, June 7, 2019

Selfie (Day 870)

You are beautiful   glowing like an April moon 
in the fullness of your complicated self   but 
the world does not need yet another photo of your face
there is something more   we want to see   all 
the rainbow colors of your soul 
laid bare in paint or words   your work   your home   
walls swathed in rich strokes of sunlight or shaded 
by the delicate crosshatching of open blinds 
the mountainside below 
you   poised on the razors edge of a pristine slope   
snow tinted—like the blush on a peach—
by the rising sun   the books 
that make your spirit sing stacked 
like a small chapel on your nightstand   
a velvet swirl of chocolate enveloping your spoon 
as you infuse your undying love 
into a birthday cake to be remembered    
the way life looks through your eyes
young  adult  midlife  wise  old   as you walk 
out your door on the day you save the world   
and that is every day 
because you are passionate and necessary 
and ever-so-lovely   but 
the world does not need yet another photo of your face

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: Adapted from StockSnap/Pixabay

Thursday, June 6, 2019

It shines (Day 869)

It shines   alluring

as regrets

insubstantial   he 

wants the ormolu 

extravagance

his love  imaginary 

jewels   worthless and 

impossible to price


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Pekka-Ilari Turakainen (CC BY -ND 2.0)

Wednesday, June 5, 2019

Desktop (Day 868)


Of April snowfalls 

and foolish romance

quaking   silent desert   

stolen from fate   glossy 

sheaves of inked paper 

advance   golden acres   

slithering   carousing   

illuminated by the abrupt 

edges of my desk


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Flickr/Tony Hall (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)