poetry – Page 2 – Susan Joy Clark

Celebrating Creativity

Bubbles (An Old Poem of Dad’s)

Dad recently messaged me with a few old poems from his youth, and I thought I would republish one here.

Bubbles

Never trust a bubble,

Though it bobbles in the air,

Or drifting gently there,

Does allure.

Though it twinkles in the light

With colorful delight,

Don’t be sure.

Though you very lightly grasp it,

Though you very gently clasp it

Like a dunce;

All at once,

Nothing first,

It will burst.

My dad was a physics major at New York University and was a senior scientist at ITT, accumulating 44 patents over his time there. He was working on things like voice recognition and GPS long before these became common terms everyone knew. He also invented many things to help out the U.S. military and worked on a secure telephone that President Reagan used. Many who know him might be surprised at his artistic side, but he wrote a lot of poems in his youth.

I have a great aunt on dad’s side who had some accomplishments as a painter and poet. Below is one of her poetry books.

One Thanksgiving, a cousin on dad’s side, who has appointed himself as our family historian, shared all sorts of stories about Great Aunt Marie and showed me a different poetry book of hers that he has. I never met my great aunt, but I found it all fascinating. I Googled my great aunt and was surprised at what I found. I was able to order the book above from Amazon, which actually came from a used bookstore in California, and was even an autographed copy. I’ve been meaning to post about this in detail for a long time, so stay tuned …

Creative Life, Poetry

Outside My Window, #Double Ennead

This month, for Carrot Ranch Literary Community, Colleen M. Chesebro challenges us to write a double ennead poem on a topic of our choice in 99 syllables, then reduce to a 48 syllable form, then 24 syllables and finally to a 12 syllable haiku. Here is my entry.

Double ennead form, 99 syllables

clouds like spun sugar in

periwinkle sky,

a tree’s outline in shadow in sunny grass,

white butterflies flying

above rose bushes.

golden yellow lilies

peeking out among

all of the green foliage in the garden,

red Japanese maple

branches wave gently.

a little brown sparrow

hops about in grass,

then flutters over to perch on the fence,

these are the sights I see

outside my window.

48 syllables, 4-7-5 stanza trio

spun sugar clouds

in a periwinkle sky,

butterflies flying.

yellow gold lilies

among the green foliage,

red maple branches,

small brown sparrow

flutters to perch on the fence,

outside my window.

24 syllables, (6-6-6-6,) 1 stanza

spun sugar clouds

in periwinkle sky,

butterflies and lilies,

sights outside my window

12 syllable haiku, short-long-short

spun sugar clouds

above white butterflies

and gold lilies.

Creative Life, Dog poetry, It's a Doggy Dog World, Poetry

The Dreamers, #Poem

Here, we drift, floating quietly,

Along a dreamy, silver sea,

All my six furry friends and me.

Max, he dreams of his buried bones,

Rupert dreams of the hearth at home,

Chance dreams of bacon of his own.

George dreams of Frisbees in the air,

Winston dreams of old boots, a pair,

Rex dreams of an old comfy chair,

And we slip adrift on a pillowed cloud,

With only pleasant dreams allowed,

All seven of us — a small crowd.

Into a book’s pages I fell,

Dreaming of the stories I’ll tell,

My pen dipped into my inkwell,

And we fly along an azure sky,

‘Til our siesta passes by,

Me and six furry friends of mine.

I’m sharing this with dVerse’s Open Link Night. I was looking through my picture files for poetry inspiration and found this copy of artwork by Lisa Finch. I just love it for several reasons. Many of you know that I have an animal care business, so that was one reason. I love the glamour of the female character here, the fact that she has fallen asleep with an open book and the title of the artwork which is also “The Dreamers,” which seemed to speak of imagination and creativity.

Lisa Finch has an Etsy shop where she sells some of her work on canvas and also prints and note cards. I perused it and found so many more pieces that I enjoy. Animals seem to be a common theme, not just pets but wild and exotic animals as well. Many of her pieces seem to have a sort of female Dr. Doolittle character. She has some fantasy and almost surrealistic scenes with some old Hollywood glamour combined in there. I almost feel I should revisit for an art-themed post.

Creative Life, Poetry

Ice Cream Cone Romance, #Paint Chip Poetry Sixain

He gifted her an ice cream cone.

He gave it to her with a blush.

“I wish it were a precious stone,”

he told her in a quiet hush.

His hands were stuffed into his jeans

of faded denim, while he leaned

In for a kiss from his sweet girl.

Her lipstick marked him on the cheek,

Leaving his head then in a whirl,

As he felt awed and somewhat meek.

To him, she wore a halo bright,

An angel that mystical night.

Years later, his fortune increased

But his girl was still the same,

His romance then did not decrease,

Even after she took his name.

He thought a better gift he’d give,

To celebrate the love they lived.

He gifted her a polished stone,

She was then the one who blushed.

“I wish it were an ice cream cone,”

He told her in that quiet hush.

And, after this, that husband meek,

Still got a kiss upon his cheek.

This was written for Linda Kruschke’s paint chip poetry challenge. The challenge this week was to write a stanza or more of a sixain, using four or five of the paint chip words below and one as a rhyming word.

The poem was partially inspired by a story my mother told me that she had read about the actress Helen Hayes and her romance. At one point in her courtship, the man who became her husband gave her a bag of peanuts (maybe at the movies or some event) and told her he wished they were emeralds. Years later, he did give her emeralds and told her he wished they were peanuts. In my poem, peanuts and emeralds became ice cream cone and polished or precious stone. All other details were also fictionalized and, of course, created, to fit in the paint chip words.

Creative Life, Poetry

Waves, #Trimeric

Waves roll into shore,

Stirring up cool, white foam,

Then recede back into the ocean

To hit the shore once more.

Stirring up cool, white foam,

Frothing milky white,

Trailing bubbles across the sand.

Then recede back into the ocean,

Like bathwater flowing down the drain,

As sands shift underfoot.

To roll into shore once more,

Rolling, gathering momentum from afar

Impacting the shore with its power.

This was written for dVerse’s trimeric poetry challenge. Their page defines the trimeric form this way:

1. Trimeric has 4 stanzas
2. The first stanza has 4 lines
3. The other three stanzas have 3 lines each
4. The first line of each stanza is a refrain of the corresponding line in the first stanza (so 2nd stanza starts with the second line, third stanza starts with the third line, etc.).
5. The sequence of lines, then, is abcd, b – -, c – -, d – -.

Here is a little background behind my creative process for this one. I wasn’t sure of a subject at first, so I thought I’d do my own “photo prompt” and perused unsplash.com for a photo I liked. I selected the ocean pic above. As I thought about it, I realized the form really suited the subject of waves, as the repetitions seemed to suit that in and out feeling.