Beach umbrella

They stand there
Moving in the breeze
They will become
A reflection someday of
Tiny drink umbrellas
Bobbing along in my cocktail,
As I scan the oceans horizon
Looking for life.
Trees to toothpicks and paper decorations
For my glass,
One to another
Like a dream of another day
Where skies were filled
With sunsets and waves,
Where my mojito iced
Chilled my fingers
As the warm breeze blew
Over me.
Wispy fronds
Blowing in the ocean salted air.
Umbrellas needing a refill.

She (NaPoWriMo day fifteen)

Her words were quick but so soft spoken
She was told from her childhood that she would never leave,
For She knew deep within these walls,something was so very broken.

She knew of a magic within that made it easy to believe
With each thread that she wove from her mind
This life that she lived would bear no reprieve.

She loved with a heart that was gentle and kind,
With a hope within that seemed sometimes so torn
She would seek her dream by looking behind.

She walked away from her home one day, empty but free.

And now our (optional) prompt! Today, I challenge you to write a poem in terza rima. This form was invented by Dante, and used in The Divine Comedy. It consists of three-line stanzas, with a “chained” rhyme scheme. The first stanza is ABA, the second is BCB, the third is CDC, and so on. No particular meter is necessary, but English poets have tended to default to iambic pentameter (iambic pentameter is like the Microsoft Windows of English poetry). One common way of ending a terza rima poem is with a single line standing on its own, rhyming with the middle line of the preceding three-line stanza.

Here’s a short example of a fairly contemporary poem in terza rima:


I read how Quixote in his random ride
Came to a crossing once, and lest he lose
The purity of chance, would not decide

Whither to fare, but wished his horse to choose.
For glory lay wherever he might turn.
His head was light with pride, his horse’s shoes

Were heavy, and he headed for the barn.

– Richard Wilbur


Through children’s eyes
The gift of color,
Of the flight birds
Flapping wings
Flutter like happy eyelashes
The crinkle up
In wonderment.
I long to feel that way
And sometimes even succeed
For a beautiful sunrise
Or sunset
Or the colors of the clouds that pass by.
To see the moon and the stars
And realize that we are so small
On this earth,
Specks in the universe
Searching for Wonderous visions,
If even in a dream
Even the blind
Can imagine.