This is something silly I wrote.
It was hot out
the same heat as that week
we spent walking shoeless and lost
over sharp crags in northern Ontario
under an unforgiving sun.
It made me nervous
to think that the same thing
could possibly happen to us again
despite possessing a detailed trail map
and much better shoes.
Perhaps there won’t be
another massive outbreak of the virus
which drove us to the hills
the first time around to escape
terrifying hordes of zombies.
© Bridget Noonan, 2012.
I wish I knew how
to coax out a good haiku
but they won’t bloom here.
Yes, it’s that time again- time for a series of haiku poems. You know you love it.
if I could stop now
our summer would never end
but time continues
autumn brings colour
heralds the death of the year
and the end of us
snow falls softly now
returns me to a blank slate
winter at its best
fresh green shoots spring forth
from their mother’s warm embrace
I begin again.
© Bridget Noonan, 2012.
This poem came out of a great night. From about one to two in the morning, there was a huge thunderstorm over my place. It was amazing. Haven’t done it justice, but this is as close as I could get. Nobody on the road, nobody out walking, just me communing with nature even in the city. Awesome.
The leaves are talking in their sleep
While raindrops soothe their slumber
And lightning promises vengeance
On the wind that disturbed them.
The storm begins in earnest
Thunder speaks in tongues over rooftops
Torrents of water drench the cracking pavement.
The weary traveller, crouch
In narrow doorways to watch
The many-textured sky split
By light, by sound, in solitude.
This is feeling alive!
In the midst of summer’s first downpour
I breathe raindrops, wet earth and thunder
My heartbeat the only reminder
That I am not cloud, or water, or earth
Or the tumultuous sky above.
My page is lit by blue flashes
As I shield my notebook from the rain
And wonder at the fierce beauty around me.
© Bridget Noonan, 2011.
Sorry I haven’t been around much. Stuff going on. Life happens.
Okay, so it’s not technically Wednesday anymore; I’m okay with that. I’m still posting a response to the Three Word Wednesday http://www.threewordwednesday.com/2011/04/3ww-ccxxxvi.html prompt.
The Seasons Personified
the last time I saw Spring
we had a tickle war and
she laughed and squealed
until she vomited violets
all over my lawn.
still, that’s better than
Winter’s cold tragic embrace;
evidently, he hasn’t forgiven me
for hiding snowballs
in my freezer to scare Summer.
Autumn and I get along best,
I find, because neither of us
is deluded enough to think
that our time together is anything
more than an illusion.
© Bridget Noonan, 2011