The Raven's Truth Be Told

Mag 84



She whispers secrets

 into the night

the heavens mourn

the raven's truth be told

Petrina Lesko

September 2011

linked to Magpie Tales

The Fluted Charmer

With flute you played your charm
enticing each soul forth,
from the darkest of depth,
beneath the trees like roots,
winding to, fro, coming out
into light of day to hear.

Witnessing life's toll to hear
these words, lived without charm.
Secrets kept, none spoke out...
dig within pockets forth,
seek to plant seeded roots
of aid.  Reaching new depth

for those burdened, in-depth
help, from hearts... cries to hear
their pleas.  Long buried roots
hidden to the world's charm,
beckoning to us, forth-
coming need to be out

these lives untold.  Call out
to believe 'tales tell depth'
and lonely hearts bear forth
wisdom, sadness we hear.
This music plays of charm
and helping hands' treed roots,

of giving planted roots
to society.  Out-
numbered, yet your heart's charm
raises from pocket's depth
to change the song, to hear
and carry their hurts forth.

Into the light shine forth,
no longer lost like roots
searching beneath, now hear
this hand be given.  Out
of torment and dark depth,
bestow your tale, do charm!

Theirs brought forth, this your charm,
to share roots, both this depth,
lift and hear...  help them out!

Petrina Lesko
September 2011

inspired by this week's Magpie Tales.

This was also my first attempt at a new to me form - the Sestina.  It's end words repeat throughout each stanza in the following pattern:
     1. ABCDEF
     2. FAEBDC
     3. CFDABE
     4. ECBFAD
     5. DEACFB
     6. BDFECA
     7. ECA or ACE (envoi)
       sometimes including BDF within these 3 lines as well.

now also linked to dVerse Poets Pub... FormForAll

Revenant Painter

The Revenant, 1949, Andrew Wyeth
shared as Mag 82

Tap, tap, tap sounds beyond the open door,
yet he has relinquished his wait no more,
easing beyond the paled world we here see,
glides effortlessly... this reality.

For he is a shadow of yesterday,
touching upon lives now of those that may,
inhabit his world of delicate hues,
searching places where he once found his muse.

Inspirational souls that came to him,
close at heart and close to this his world's rim,
tendered moments found silently kept close,
speaking beyond the rhetoric verbose.

Never to seek the final event known,
focused as taught by NC to ill shown,
painted in 'abstraction' for depth and tone,
for seekers are lost when focus for throne.

Such was his way, to find strengths in beauty,
looking for depth, meaning in objects he,
beyond the obvious, what you would find,
giving deeper essence, this was his kind.

For always the soul lingers beyond grave,
to carry forth as the wind or the wave,
past the boundaries of this world's known rules,
to grace those left with gifts of these jewels.

© Petrina Lesko, September 2011

I have always been very fascinated with the depth in the works of Andrew Wyeth, one of the best known artists of the US in the mid 20th century.  Though his work is considered predominantly to be 'realist' he considered himself to paint in more of an 'abstractionist' manner looking beyond the basic obvious meanings of simple objects and the world around him.  He truly believed his works went beyond the landscape or portraits, that they expressed a deeper nuance of feeling and depth.

This week over at Magpie Tales, Tess Kincaid has offered this fine example of his work, The Revenant, as the prompt to inspire us writers and poets.  Thank you Tess, for a fabulous prompt... truly inspirational.

Stuck...

abandoned farm, Dublin, Ohio
photo by Tess Kincaid for
Magpie Tales

Stuck...

in the quagmire of

economic insecurities.

Stuck...

in muddy roads of

life's hazy days, worlds

washed loosely from

earthen crusts.

Stuck...

in the endlessness of

rain, pouring down

upon this place.

Stuck...

beyond hope of today,

tomorrow's freshness gleams.

Freed...

from everyday boundaries,

now flowing beyond deed lines.

Freed...

to begin anew, cleansed

by nature's tender mercies.

Freed...

from yesterday's limits,

inspiring new found strength

in oneself... worlds changed.

Petrina Lesko

September 2011

Inspired by this weeks photo prompt #81 found over at Magpie Tales.  Come share in the fun, write a short poem or vignette... or just read some wonderful writes by others.

Looking Through Windows



Red Umbrella, Christopher Shay
as shared at Magpie Tales



looking through windows

waiting for rain to bring home

those loved ones missing

still missing today

kept late by the storms passing

not yet home this night

looking through windows

waiting for rain to bring home

those loved ones missing

childlike wonder still

awed by the powerful rains

hoping for their return

looking through windows

waiting for rain to bring home

those loved ones missing

man passes windows

his red umbrella  reminds

time takes no heart loved

looking through windows

waiting for rain to bring home

those loved ones missing

creaking doors startle

branches banging the eaves too

long rainy days... wait

looking through windows

waiting for rain to bring home

those loved ones missing

Petrina Lesko

August 2011

In writing this piece,  I tried to capture the feelings when I was young...  When storms would pass our way, I would arrive home before everyone else in my family and then I would wait... searching the windows for signs of any of them to come home.  I would often times spend hours pacing window to window, wondering until one by one they would arrive home from their busy days, complaining of the delays the rain had caused.

This wonderful picture prompt was shared over at this weeks prompt #80 at Magpie Tales hosted by the talented Tess Kincaid.  There writers and poets come together to share their creations inspired by her weekly prompts.  Come join the fun, share your thoughts and get to know the most fabulous group of writers and poets.

Rusted Sunshine



Image by Skip Hunt
as shared at Magpie Tales



Of clouded moments thickened stagnant air,

like towers of cumulonimbus dreams,

filled droplets of time, memories lie there,

yet sunstripped days wait to slice, thus it seems,

      showering this moment in fantasies,

      of your touch, cutting deep into the heart,

      always...forever, til death us do part.

Rusted sunshine twirls the blade so neatly,

cuts deep in time, of a long ago day,

the soul dies with a love shared once sweetly,

leaving pieces of dreams sprinkled this way,

      showering this moment in fantasy,

      of your touch, striking deep into the heart,

      always...forever, til death us did part.

Petrina Lesko
August 2011

This poem was written for both Magpie Tales which provided this wonderful photo prompt and for this week's Poetry Potluck over at Jingle Poetry where the topic is Love... and it's not being there.  I was also attempting my first try at the Rhyme Royal form, however, I think some of my feet are not in true iambic pentameter.  The rhyme scheme for this form is a-b-a-b, b-c-c or a-b-a, b-b, c-c.  I really like the possibilities of this form so I will probably continue to work on it.

Adding a link to dVerse ~Poets Pub for OpenLinkNight.

She Juggles Stars

I wanted to get a little more input on this one so I will be linking it over at dVerse ~Poets Pub for their OpenLinkNight.  Enjoy everyone.

Riding high there in the skies,

Magpie Tales #75

tightly roping within this world,

she juggles stars naturally,

as if this was her solemn place.

Eyes bewildered as Sirius flies,

her magic shines hot, up and twirled,

dancing aloft the world we see,

as before, this a new world's face.

In her efforts may come surprise,

for if she slips, from ropes be furled,

juggled there for those who will be,

upon the wires of fun we trace.

Eyes bewildered as Sirius flies,

riding there within the skies,

juggled there for those who will be,

dancing aloft the world we see.

She juggles stars naturally,

as if this was her solemn plea.

Petrina Lesko

July 2011

Here I offer a second take (inspired by thoughts of a friend's son who is in Australia, in school to hopefully become a part of Cirque du Soleil) on the wonderful prompt by Tess Kincaid, at her fabulous meme, Magpie Tales.  Come join the fun and see what flies for you.

Sirius Cycle Rise

as offered by Tess Kincaid



as does the rise of Sirius say

cycling westward for day by day

just before the sunlit skies,

your Heliacal rise

draws forth all of eyes

on ropes these ones,

horizon's

edge to

play

Petrina Lesko

July 2011

This wonderful picture prompt was offered up today by Tess Kincaid for the 75th Magpie Tales prompt.  This is a fabulous place for writers and poets to come together and share.  To see what inspiration others have found, please follow the link and join in the fun.

Truth

truth lies within, yes?

masked beyond recognition

this

the only truth left

photo offered by Tess Kincaid
for Magpie Tales #74

Magpie Tales, a fabulous weekly prompt offered by Tess Kincaid, where writers, poets and you can come to share and enjoy the talents of some wonderful friends.

Life Played Silently

People of Chilmark, Thomas Hart Benton, 1920

From within our shores of sunshine plays,
Upon the land and upon the sea,
Basking in the days of carefree ways,
Games played silently, we all could be.

Simple words spoken within the hands,
Havens cherished, explored, be thus shared,
Martha's vintage language of the sands,
A language evolved beyond presence cared.

Evolving days of lessons to learn,
Schooled in hearts beyond from shores to main,
French signs transformed yet may we discern,
Blending worlds within the hand explain.

To bring to this American shore,
Become these words spoken - ASL,
From island families long before,
Words shared with hands and spoken by all.

As all could be, no barriers would see,
For in those days, hearing spoke with hands,
To share and be a community,
To work, to play, joined upon these sands.

From within our shores of sunshine plays,
Upon the land and upon the sea,
Basking in the days of carefree ways,
Chilmark people... life played silently.

Petrina Lesko
July 2011

The above photo prompt was offered by the wonderful Tess Kincaid over at her Magpie Tales, a fabulous place for poets and writers to share with like-minded artists, creating and basking in the sunshine of life.  Please come join us!

A Price was Paid



photo by Tess Kincaid
offered as Mag 70



















For through the years, she held so much in grace...
Beyond the moments of her stolen times,
Staring stoically through us, another place,
Secrets hinted at deep within like rhymes.

Always looking beyond the doorway step,
Longing to see him coming round the bend,
Quiet stolen memories laid as she wept,
Letters postmarked from places he would send.

A pose struck, like stone afore the dim light,
Yet, as her heart poured out, darkness was laid,
Left alone in the world, she passed on that night,
For through the years grace, but a price was paid.

Left a longing heart as her will would be,
No others welcomed in her life she stayed,
But there in her day, no one else could she see,
For through the years grace, but a price was paid.


Petrina Lesko
June 2011


An interesting photo shared this week for the Magpie Tales prompt.  The sale price struck a real chord of those who leave this world with no one to cherish the memories.  While yet others, forget to take the time to capture photos of the memories, always engraved yet still in our hearts.

Whispering Ways


Once again, it is time to share the treasures found over at Magpie Tales, a blogging meme offered by Tess Kincaid.  There, each week, she posts a wonderful picture, sparking the muse of many, to share in the inspirational thoughts of those who join in.

Magpie #69

 















To touch, trace with gentle fingertips,
It is then that ye shall feel the ebb of days,
Woven within the flow, carved as dips,
Mounds guiding curves, the battle of my ways.

Mapped for futures told, thunderous crashing,
Tide-ripped currents, held within the whisper,
Ears listening to tales I've told, thrashing,
Yet a solstice of nights, cold and crisper.

Forever, my lines shall hold my form tight,
Cradled on the shores for those who shall seek,
Glisten against the sunlit sands in plight,
Bound by memories, silted in hearts meek.

Your treasure...crushed and tumbled, only still,
Into pathways of your inner sanctums,
Held like sun-bleached martyrs upon the sill,
Precious memories... whispered by the humms.

Still, shared within my whispering ways,
Secrets tossed upon the shore, thus you find,
Strewn across the sands on the darkest days,
It is there that you seek shells of my kind.

Petrina Lesko
June 2011

Written Within Your Fold





Mag 66
photo prompt by Tess Kincaid

Your shelves offer such possibilities,

A nature's walk, journeying beyond sublime,

Friend's secrets held tight or sailing the seas,

Historical moments cherished through time.

Each book holding it's own special treasure,

Tales of truth, fantasy... stories once told,

Future endeavors of days that measure,

Times shared in rhyme, penned down in days of old.

Authors unknown, famous within will spark,

Upon the reader, a glimmer left behind,

Intriguing the senses, to leave their mark,

Souls left shared... a gift forever in kind.

These things and more, written within your fold,

Pages of wonder for us all to hold.

Petrina Lesko

May 2011

This poem was inspired by the lovely Tess Kincaid with this wonderful picture prompt offered up for this week's Magpie Tales, a place where writer's and poets come together to share in the muse.

Smoldering Hesitations

Over at Jingle Poetry  the theme this week for Monday's Poetry Potluck  is "Doubts, Fears, Inhibitions and Hesitations"...   These doubts and fears that have formed from our past experiences seem to smolder in the distance, always there, waiting to spark the wildfire to desimate all that is within its grasp.  I was working on my piece for this week's Potluck when I came across this fabulous prompt by Tess over at Magpie Tales.  I couldn't help but grasp it and combine for both prompts.




Smoldering Fires, Clarence Holbrook Carter, 1904-2000
Columbus Museum of Art
as shared at Magpie Tales #64



Like Whispers Upon Ears


Today... you walked a while with me,

Like old friends joined, together share,

I knew your steps as you knew mine,

Stepping along the path to see,

Hand in hand, alas we could dare.

The path familiar, took a turn,

For a moment we paused to look,

Stay on the path, follow the sign,

Eager to explore, more to learn,

In the distance, I heard the brook.

Desires to try within me burn,

Like wildfires in the distance know,

Come, let's go back, we will dine,

The water flows free 'on the turn,

Caressing the rocks just for show.

As the flow dropped, falling right there,

I longed to go forth, journey more,

Step forth, be you lost in the pine,
Darkness comes all too soon to dare,
For in the night, where is the shore.

Explorations curbed, this will be,

Moments unsure instilled my friend,

Like whispers upon ears of mine,

Words carry forth your doubts for me,

Deterring strength for journey's end.

Hand in hand, alas we could dare,
Stepping along the path to see,
I knew your steps as you knew mine,
Like old friends joined, together share,
Today... you walked a while with me.

Petrina Lesko
May 2011

Chlorophyll Highlights

Tender pink petals glistening,

The day's misty morning springs forth,

Like a kaleidoscope of hope,

Sun rays fragmenting through damp air...



Mag 63



Her tree lined canopy unveils,

Blue spruce sparkling upon the rose,

She drinks in the moisture of light,

With chlorophyll highlights she dawns.

Petrina Lesko

April 2011

Thank you again Tess, for a breathtaking picture prompt for this week's Magpie Tales, a fabulous venue where writers can share with others and entertain the muse.  For some spectacular reads in poetry and prose, please join us at Magpie Tales for this weeks prompt, #63.

Mom, where do...?

Mag 62 photo prompt

"Mom, where do eggs come from?" asked Timmy.  "She told you, eggs come from chickens... remember at Grandpa's house.  We went to the chicken coop and picked the eggs up from the nests." answered Shelly.

She continued to stand in front of the stove, a smile across her face.  The toast popped up, she pulled the slices from the toaster and placed them on her own plate.  Picking up the knife, she scooped some butter and began to spread it across the slices.

"Mom, where does bread come from?" asked Timmy.  "She told you, bread comes from the wheat in the fields, you mix it up with the... mix it and put it in the oven." answered Shelly. 

"So bread comes from the oven, like the meat does," chimed Timmy. 

"No, not from the oven, it comes from the wheat fields... like the corn does.  Remember the big ears of corn on the tall plants in the fields at Grandpa's house.  You have to get this right, Timmy.  Bread is wheat, it comes from the fields."  Shelly instructed. 

"Oh yeah, that's when Grandpa let me ride on the tractor with him... I like tractors.  Mom, can I have my  own tractor?..." asked Timmy.

Petrina Lesko
April 2011

Another wonderful photo prompt offered by Tess over at Magpie Tales.  Sitting pondering it this morning while eating my toast and sipping coffee, I imagined hearing the above conversation between two young children sitting at the table eating their breakfast while Mom finished preparing her own.  Come join the fun over at Magpie Tales and share your own inspiring take.

Ancestral Images



Mag 61

Ancestral images transmute once swirled,
Like acid-washed remnants of aged-long rhyme,

Memories etched in some other lifetime,

Fragmented pieces, a different world.

Taste of this glass, flavoring years be twirled,
Thoughts dark night, unclear... living crumbled time,
Ancestral images will be unfurled,
Like acid-washed remnants of aged-long rhyme.

Sipping sensations, altered thoughts are whirled,
Life's lost hearts of family's broken climb,
Day's forgotten moments given to crime,
The mind's lost illness, less packaged and pearled.
Ancestral images transmute once swirled.

Petrina Lesko
April 2011

Another challenging Magpie Tales prompt, as offered weekly by the wonderful Tess Kincaid.  Thank you Tess, for inspiring deep thoughts with such provocative images.  Please come join us for a fabulous share.

White Mountain Ash

Had just a quick glance at the prompt early this morning, then  a busy, busy day in the high 80's with scorching sunlight...  Hours upon hours later, I sit here trying to let all of the busy moments rinse away with thoughts of rain and this wonderful prompt.....

Mag 60 at Magpie Tales

Dim darkened clouds, angered skies sash,

Holding your tears well into the night,

Greying worlds collide.

Tensions well beneath holding too tight,

Thundering voices, lightning crash.

Drenching moments bathe in a flash,

Rinsing free tender hearts of sunlight,

Colorful worlds pride.

Emerging seeds blossom within sight,

Rising wonders, white mountain ash.

Stormy skies abide,

Colors rising stride,

Timbers reaching, white mountain ash.

Petrina Lesko

April 2011

I am linking this poem over at Magpie Tales for this weeks prompt #60.   Now I'm off to check out all the other wonderful poets.  Please join us.

Who Be the Lady



Mona Lisa by Leonardo da Vinci
as shared by Magpie Tales


Who be the lady he doth paint,
He strokes the canvas lightly while,
Captures the essence of your smile,
Setting here, are you feeling feint?

But of the knowing just might taint,
Histories wonder of your guile,
Who be the lady he doth paint,
He strokes the canvas lightly while.

Painted lady with such restraint,
Eloquence shared, be this your style,
Mystiques held, such doth sooth and rile,
Demure, composed... a little quaint,
Who be the lady he doth paint?

Petrina Lesko
March 2011


Thank you Tess, for another fabulous challenge with Mag 59, this weeks challenge for Magpie Tales.  And as this is another attempt at a Rondel, I shall also link this to One Stop Poetry for this weeks OSW.

Yet She Wields... and a Special Thank You

It never ceases to amaze me at how "fitting" the week's photo prompt is when I pop over to Magpie Tales hosted by Willow.  Her photography, always rich and deep, endless meanings available...

photo prompt #58 for Magpie Tales


Yet She Wields...

Days of ill ease, souls shielded by the past,
Lessons taught, swords cultivated the fields,
Cote-armours well-placed to protect and last,
All this unseen by the world, yet she wields...

Side by side, sharing efforts in this life,
Guiding those wandering souls to the shore,
Days of gentle hearts for to see through strife,
Yet she wields the armour well-placed before.

Coated souls, leading others o'er hills vast,
Trodden days, lessons exerted, hopes yield,
Journeys taken by sails raised upon mast,
Cote-armours well-placed before, now are peeled.

Earnest endeavors, transformed from the rife,
Innocent souls yearning to learn, want more,
Hands held long, gentle hearts helping through life,
Lending the way, opportunities door.

Days of ill ease, souls shielded by the past,
Lessons taught, swords cultivated the fields,
Cote-armours well-placed to protect and last,
All this unseen by the world, yet she wields...

Petrina Lesko
March 2011

I am, of course, linking this post over at Magpie Tales for this prompt #58 (a truly inspirational photo).  To see others' takes on this prompt, click here.
 
A special thank you to those who nominated me...
 
I would also like to take this opportunity to say a special thank you to Jingle, Cloaked Monk, Verse in a Nutshell, Lolamouse and louisedouglas for their nomination for the Versatile Blogger Award.  I am truly honored that you all would nominate me for this award, however, I feel at this time that my Blog needs to remain an Award Free location.    Again, thank you for the nominations.