As One Stop Poetry finds itself in its final days, hours... Gay Cannon has presented us with Form Monday and Brendan MacOdrum as the host of Poetry and Myth... For this wonderfully informative final lesson, link here. It is a fabulous challenging and educational piece. So for this weeks challenge, Brendan has offered this: Post a poem that is somehow based on a myth or folktale. Put your history into its mystery; you’ll discover the gods are still very much with us, raising all kinds of heaven and hell between the margins of the page.
On Winged Flight
Born when death betook her head,
On winged flight, bestow instead,
Upon this steed, the hero rose,
To the shores wherefor he chose,
Slay the demon in hopes to wed.
Thus placed up in the heavens told,
Carried ye forth to mountains fold,
For with your step, the waters spring,
Placed in your care, from Hippocrene,
The Nine who hold, the Arts we mold.
To sing, to dance, for it is said,
Bestowed your care for we be led,
Tails painted Zeus, upon the skies,
For one to tell within belies,
Thus histories of hungers fed.
Yet we who care for this be led,
The voices spring and it was said,
These glories sung amidst our tries,
Be heard to you, be lost our cries,
For in the night, the stories bled.
And in the day we wander by,
In hopes to find, we swallow sky,
To feed the need within the mind,
Yet him and her, they see us blind,
For us the day is dark, we cry.
Yet be unheard, condemned are we,
When in the night, your tales we see,
But to those here, other things said,
'Voices you hear, just in your head',
So we must seek your world to be.
For in the night the Muses see,
Versions fortold, today's story,
Alas we show a new found tale,
Yet there it be, a shadow's trail,
For with the Muse, we may be free.
Petrina Lesko
July 2011
a journey filled with many familiar paths and some not yet taken... all leading to the ever-changing destinations just waiting to be discovered.
Showing posts with label One Stop Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label One Stop Poetry. Show all posts
Monday, July 18, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
Gift
Delicate purple lines crowning cones,
Lace wrapped petals bursting in bloom,
Standing tall modelling height,
Talents acquired within,
Bestowed upon and
for your delight.
A Mother
Nature's
Gift.
Petrina Lesko
July 2011
Over at One Stop Poetry, today is Form Monday. Gay has introduced us to Corbie Sinclair for a lesson on the Nonet. 'In writing it involves a poem with a total of nine lines. The first line must have nine syllables, second line eight syllables, third line seven syllables and so on until you end with one syllable. It has a ABCDEFGHI or alpha numerical form, so each line is a different ending word. The corresponding syllables are 9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1.' This is my first attempt at this form and I found it rather challenging. Stop over and give it a whirl.
 |
| photo taken by Petrina Lesko |
Lace wrapped petals bursting in bloom,
Standing tall modelling height,
Talents acquired within,
Bestowed upon and
for your delight.
A Mother
Nature's
Gift.
Petrina Lesko
July 2011
Over at One Stop Poetry, today is Form Monday. Gay has introduced us to Corbie Sinclair for a lesson on the Nonet. 'In writing it involves a poem with a total of nine lines. The first line must have nine syllables, second line eight syllables, third line seven syllables and so on until you end with one syllable. It has a ABCDEFGHI or alpha numerical form, so each line is a different ending word. The corresponding syllables are 9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1.' This is my first attempt at this form and I found it rather challenging. Stop over and give it a whirl.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Each Moment
 |
| photo by Petrina Lesko |
each moment precious
gifted treasures of glory
blessings of new days
Petrina Lesko
June 2011
Today is a very SPECIAL day over at One Stop Poetry as this day marks one year of prompts for One Shot Wednesday, their weekly poetry prompt for anyone who wants to join in with other very talented poets, sharing their work, joining the camaraderie ...
A big THANK YOU to the entire One Stop team... Happy 1st year anniversary! It has been a fabulous fun ride.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Convergance
'Adam Romanowicz is an avid pursuer of the artistic and the abstract. An engineer in “the real world,” Romanowicz’s passion for composition and the outdoors has led him to an adventurous life of fine art, as well as editorial and commercial stock photography. His website, 3scape is an award-winning institution show-casing his fine art work. His published credits run the gamut, from CD covers and store displays to the Oxford Dictionary for the Middle Ages.'
Please join in the fun writing that has been transcended from his wonderful photography.
 |
| 'Converging' by Adam Romanowicz |
my droplets in time
converge to center moments
forever within
Petrina Lesko
June 2011
Today over at One Stop Poetry and 1SS they have interview a fabulous abstract photographer...
'Adam Romanowicz is an avid pursuer of the artistic and the abstract. An engineer in “the real world,” Romanowicz’s passion for composition and the outdoors has led him to an adventurous life of fine art, as well as editorial and commercial stock photography. His website, 3scape is an award-winning institution show-casing his fine art work. His published credits run the gamut, from CD covers and store displays to the Oxford Dictionary for the Middle Ages.'
Please join in the fun writing that has been transcended from his wonderful photography.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
In Search of a Canvas
In search of a canvas,
I paint where I can...
Yet where I am not wanted.
In search of a canvas,
I paint when eyes are lost,
Yet in the darkness colors bright.
In search of a canvas,
I dare to walk the heights,
Steeling along for backgrounds more.
In search of a canvas,
I paint where I can...
Yet where I am not wanted.
In search of a canvas,
I speak words unheard,
Altered words against the wall.
In search of a canvas,
I paint where I can...
I long for a brief moment's glory...
In search of a canvas,
Yet as the day comes dawn,
Still... where I am not wanted.
Petrina Lesko
June 2011
This Sunday over at One Stop Poetry the topic... the photo prompts are all about graffiti and what it inspires in us, the writers of craft. This was my take... hope you enjoyed it.
 |
| photo by Chris Galford as shared at 1SS at One Stop Poetry |
In search of a canvas,
I paint where I can...
Yet where I am not wanted.
In search of a canvas,
I paint when eyes are lost,
Yet in the darkness colors bright.
In search of a canvas,
I dare to walk the heights,
Steeling along for backgrounds more.
In search of a canvas,
I paint where I can...
Yet where I am not wanted.
In search of a canvas,
I speak words unheard,
Altered words against the wall.
In search of a canvas,
I paint where I can...
I long for a brief moment's glory...
In search of a canvas,
Yet as the day comes dawn,
Still... where I am not wanted.
Petrina Lesko
June 2011
This Sunday over at One Stop Poetry the topic... the photo prompts are all about graffiti and what it inspires in us, the writers of craft. This was my take... hope you enjoyed it.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
The Bell Sounds...
Faintly... in the distant echoes of time,
Stretching far beyond the length of your lines,
Buried beneath the dusty layers climb,
And the bell sounds... an urgency of kinds...
Calling forth, the lost numbers unwritten,
Pane-staking images, hues dimmed yet all,
Combine beneath the years, once yet bitten,
Diagrammed plans, changing hearts, here the call...
Changing times post beyond the doorway now,
Documented dreams bear forth the future,
For deep within, beating it's heart lies how,
Master-crafted as the bootman's suture...
Faintly... in the distant echoes of time,
Now the bell sounds... an urgency of rhyme.
Petrina Lesko
June 2011
In what now seems a distant time long ago, there lied lines, plans of a new picture for me... calling, if you will, with an urgency. The bell sounded, alerting me to new beginnings... From those beginnings (of a year ago) came my adventure through blogland. Looking beyond the dusty shelves, searching the photos posted, the words translated through new creativites and familiar rhymes... the call stretched through the lines transmitting new energies, new outlets, ultimately bringing me to this point. It is with great joy that I reach my first blogoversary, renewed in my creative energies, hoping to carry my message beyond all known possibilities, as did the first telephone call placed by A. G. Bell. (What would he be thinking now of the wireless generation of communcations?)
As the bell sounds today, I send the message of a very special THANK YOU to everyone here in blogland who has taken the time to stop by and listen to my message. Thank you for all of the encouragement and guidance over the past year. It has been a fabulously exciting journey.
Also linking this post over to One Stop Poetry and this weeks 1SS photography interview (part 2) with Rob Hanson and his amazing photography.
 |
| 'They Never Call...' by Rob Hanson Photography |
Faintly... in the distant echoes of time,
Stretching far beyond the length of your lines,
Buried beneath the dusty layers climb,
And the bell sounds... an urgency of kinds...
Calling forth, the lost numbers unwritten,
Pane-staking images, hues dimmed yet all,
Combine beneath the years, once yet bitten,
Diagrammed plans, changing hearts, here the call...
Changing times post beyond the doorway now,
Documented dreams bear forth the future,
For deep within, beating it's heart lies how,
Master-crafted as the bootman's suture...
Faintly... in the distant echoes of time,
Now the bell sounds... an urgency of rhyme.
Petrina Lesko
June 2011
In what now seems a distant time long ago, there lied lines, plans of a new picture for me... calling, if you will, with an urgency. The bell sounded, alerting me to new beginnings... From those beginnings (of a year ago) came my adventure through blogland. Looking beyond the dusty shelves, searching the photos posted, the words translated through new creativites and familiar rhymes... the call stretched through the lines transmitting new energies, new outlets, ultimately bringing me to this point. It is with great joy that I reach my first blogoversary, renewed in my creative energies, hoping to carry my message beyond all known possibilities, as did the first telephone call placed by A. G. Bell. (What would he be thinking now of the wireless generation of communcations?)
As the bell sounds today, I send the message of a very special THANK YOU to everyone here in blogland who has taken the time to stop by and listen to my message. Thank you for all of the encouragement and guidance over the past year. It has been a fabulously exciting journey.
Also linking this post over to One Stop Poetry and this weeks 1SS photography interview (part 2) with Rob Hanson and his amazing photography.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
What Be These Whispers
What be these whispers of the night,
For where they come to offer fright,
In your eyes a tortuous sight...
What is beyond the darkness comes,
To treat the day like wayward bums,
Melodic notes and painful hums...
Whispers rise beyond play like screams,
Written memories, dreadful memes,
Moons to ride skies unending beams...
Taunting more within your dark mind,
Echoes calling, Clorox cocktails kind,
To cleanse these souls before you find...
For voices come to offer fright,
What be these whispers of the night?
Petrina Lesko
May 2011
Remaining on the theme of dark writing offered today for OSW over at One Stop Poetry, I thought I would try another dark themed write. Hope you all enjoy my offering.
For where they come to offer fright,
In your eyes a tortuous sight...
What is beyond the darkness comes,
To treat the day like wayward bums,
Melodic notes and painful hums...
Whispers rise beyond play like screams,
Written memories, dreadful memes,
Moons to ride skies unending beams...
Taunting more within your dark mind,
Echoes calling, Clorox cocktails kind,
To cleanse these souls before you find...
For voices come to offer fright,
What be these whispers of the night?
Petrina Lesko
May 2011
Remaining on the theme of dark writing offered today for OSW over at One Stop Poetry, I thought I would try another dark themed write. Hope you all enjoy my offering.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Sweet Dreams said...
'Sweet dreams' said as I laid to rest,
Into silence, await the screams,
Evil speaks there within my dreams.
Welcome friend, please come be my guest,
For in this night, you'll lose your sight,
Evil speaks strong, evil speaks best.
For in the darkness, so it seems,
'Sweet dreams' said as you laid to rest.
'Sweet dreams' said as I laid to rest,
Hot is the fire to burn the beams,
Embers carry, the ash it gleams...
Hollow remains of nights their test,
Embers spark light, shadows dark might,
Suns setting east, rising due west...
In the darkness, evil yet screams,
'Sweet dreams' said as we laid to rest.
Petrina Lesko
May 2011
This an attempt at a dark piece, set in high octain as offered by One Stop Poetry on Monday, a lesson and form shared/created by Luke Prater. Not sure how well I have done, but this was my first try at this fascinating form. Stop by over at One Stop Poetry for OSW to read other fascinating poetry shared there.
Into silence, await the screams,
Evil speaks there within my dreams.
Welcome friend, please come be my guest,
For in this night, you'll lose your sight,
Evil speaks strong, evil speaks best.
For in the darkness, so it seems,
'Sweet dreams' said as you laid to rest.
'Sweet dreams' said as I laid to rest,
Hot is the fire to burn the beams,
Embers carry, the ash it gleams...
Hollow remains of nights their test,
Embers spark light, shadows dark might,
Suns setting east, rising due west...
In the darkness, evil yet screams,
'Sweet dreams' said as we laid to rest.
Petrina Lesko
May 2011
This an attempt at a dark piece, set in high octain as offered by One Stop Poetry on Monday, a lesson and form shared/created by Luke Prater. Not sure how well I have done, but this was my first try at this fascinating form. Stop by over at One Stop Poetry for OSW to read other fascinating poetry shared there.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Side by Side
Though we have walked side by side,
Oh for so long... years its been, hasn't it?
Still we must go our parting ways now,
I, long tired of your deceitful ways.
Though we have walked side by side,
You understanding my weakness...
Always there like a true and dear one,
Still, forever tempting into darkness.
Though we have walked side by side,
A false bravado given, then left alone...
To pass the time delinquent of mind,
Truly... now... a habit, an addiction.
Though we have walked side by side,
You shall leave with a roar I am sure...
Screaming in the headache of my mind,
Doubting once more, please can we still.
Though we have walked side by side,
An eternity it seems, many a mile left...
Yet now, I no longer wish this bravado,
As time calls forth in new directions.
Though we have walked side by side,
Today we must stand apart, stand tall...
To find our own strength, to go forth,
Into the destinies of days, free with will.
Petrina Lesko
May 2011
Linking up with OSW over at One Stop Poetry to share in this and all the other fabulous poems linked there.
Oh for so long... years its been, hasn't it?
Still we must go our parting ways now,
I, long tired of your deceitful ways.
Though we have walked side by side,
You understanding my weakness...
Always there like a true and dear one,
Still, forever tempting into darkness.
Though we have walked side by side,
A false bravado given, then left alone...
To pass the time delinquent of mind,
Truly... now... a habit, an addiction.
Though we have walked side by side,
You shall leave with a roar I am sure...
Screaming in the headache of my mind,
Doubting once more, please can we still.
Though we have walked side by side,
An eternity it seems, many a mile left...
Yet now, I no longer wish this bravado,
As time calls forth in new directions.
Though we have walked side by side,
Today we must stand apart, stand tall...
To find our own strength, to go forth,
Into the destinies of days, free with will.
Petrina Lesko
May 2011
Linking up with OSW over at One Stop Poetry to share in this and all the other fabulous poems linked there.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Your Lifetime Gift to Me
Over at One Stop Poetry they have given us poets the opportunity to honor some especially fabulous women today... Happy Mother's Day to all the moms...
I wrote this poem six years ago for a very special lady who has been like a mother to me through the years. She was an important part of my life for a number of years while my mom was still around and our relationship grew even more important after my real mom passed. I gave this poem to her twenty years after writing another for her. I don't think she would mind if I shared it here with you all. To all the mothers out there, I hope this Mother's Day is especially special for you and your loved ones.
Your Lifetime Gift to Me
When I think of a mother and the child held in her arm,
I think of times spent with you – my special times safe from harm.
Much of my early childhood, it was spent in so much fear,
But time I got to spend with you – was time of joy and cheer.
You offered time in your home, time I did not understand,
I wondered why you would give so much, but no reprimand.
Before that, it was like hanging at the end of my rope,
But you came into my life and with time, you gave me hope.
You offered a world so different than the one I’d known,
A world I knew I liked, but had never before been shown.
With that world came many things, but mostly moments of calm,
Of course, learning the love of God, as spoken in the psalm.
You gave me acceptance, direction, challenges and more,
You opened my world, in my heart a hole you could have tore.
You were gentle and kind, all things I should have understood,
And asked only of me – that I give you whatever I could.
As I look now, to the significant times in my life,
Many a moment filled with love, some moments full of strife.
Since the day I met you, somehow, you have always been there,
And I thank God for all these times we were able to share.
God gave me a wonderful gift, he brought you to my door,
“My life has been a life of dreams,” as stated once before.
All my thanks to you for the world you were willing to show,
Because of many things you did, I was able to grow.
A very special mother’s love, your lifetime gift to me,
Has been an inspiration I want everyone to see.
A “pedestal” for you, not in my eyes, or maybe so,
I am forever thankful and just wanted you to know.
Phyllis, “Mom,” I love you and I am forever thankful
For your lifetime gift to me.
Petrina Lesko
May 2005
I wrote this poem six years ago for a very special lady who has been like a mother to me through the years. She was an important part of my life for a number of years while my mom was still around and our relationship grew even more important after my real mom passed. I gave this poem to her twenty years after writing another for her. I don't think she would mind if I shared it here with you all. To all the mothers out there, I hope this Mother's Day is especially special for you and your loved ones.
Your Lifetime Gift to Me
When I think of a mother and the child held in her arm,
I think of times spent with you – my special times safe from harm.
Much of my early childhood, it was spent in so much fear,
But time I got to spend with you – was time of joy and cheer.
You offered time in your home, time I did not understand,
I wondered why you would give so much, but no reprimand.
Before that, it was like hanging at the end of my rope,
But you came into my life and with time, you gave me hope.
You offered a world so different than the one I’d known,
A world I knew I liked, but had never before been shown.
With that world came many things, but mostly moments of calm,
Of course, learning the love of God, as spoken in the psalm.
You gave me acceptance, direction, challenges and more,
You opened my world, in my heart a hole you could have tore.
You were gentle and kind, all things I should have understood,
And asked only of me – that I give you whatever I could.
As I look now, to the significant times in my life,
Many a moment filled with love, some moments full of strife.
Since the day I met you, somehow, you have always been there,
And I thank God for all these times we were able to share.
God gave me a wonderful gift, he brought you to my door,
“My life has been a life of dreams,” as stated once before.
All my thanks to you for the world you were willing to show,
Because of many things you did, I was able to grow.
A very special mother’s love, your lifetime gift to me,
Has been an inspiration I want everyone to see.
A “pedestal” for you, not in my eyes, or maybe so,
I am forever thankful and just wanted you to know.
Phyllis, “Mom,” I love you and I am forever thankful
For your lifetime gift to me.
Petrina Lesko
May 2005
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Blank White Echoes...
I wheel forth in the depths of nothingness,
Down hallways of my mind, blank white echoes...
Yesterday's moments of sunshine glisten,
In damp misty moments of today's tears.
If I could rise, see the outer gardens,
Memories of jasmine filling my soul...
Glimmers of days gone by, tender touches,
Breezes of the heart held out beyond walls.
Instead, endless unmarked moments fill days,
Long corridors to nowhere mark my world...
Bleach stained floors leading to countless doorways,
Each one could be mine, yet none seem to be.
Lost lifetimes left unshared in loneliness,
Aging bitterness stinging the heartstrings...
Forgotten in a world tucked away now,
Dignities stolen in the darkness of time.
I wheel forth in the depths of nothingness,
Down hallways of my mind, blank white echoes...
Petrina Lesko
April 2011
This wonderful picture was shared over at One Stop Poetry as this weeks photo prompt for the Sunday Photography Interview with Greg Laychak. He is a fabulous documentary photographer worth exploring. Please stop by to see all the other great talent shared.
 |
| photo by Greg Laychak as shared at One Stop Poetry on their Sunday photographer interview |
Down hallways of my mind, blank white echoes...
Yesterday's moments of sunshine glisten,
In damp misty moments of today's tears.
If I could rise, see the outer gardens,
Memories of jasmine filling my soul...
Glimmers of days gone by, tender touches,
Breezes of the heart held out beyond walls.
Instead, endless unmarked moments fill days,
Long corridors to nowhere mark my world...
Bleach stained floors leading to countless doorways,
Each one could be mine, yet none seem to be.
Lost lifetimes left unshared in loneliness,
Aging bitterness stinging the heartstrings...
Forgotten in a world tucked away now,
Dignities stolen in the darkness of time.
I wheel forth in the depths of nothingness,
Down hallways of my mind, blank white echoes...
Petrina Lesko
April 2011
This wonderful picture was shared over at One Stop Poetry as this weeks photo prompt for the Sunday Photography Interview with Greg Laychak. He is a fabulous documentary photographer worth exploring. Please stop by to see all the other great talent shared.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Secrets to Share
The following illustration by Florence Edith Storer was offered this morning at Monday's Child: fair of face where many talented writers come together to offer children's poetry based the illustrated prompt posted each week. Come join us.
The following illustration by Florence Edith Storer was offered this morning at Monday's Child: fair of face where many talented writers come together to offer children's poetry based the illustrated prompt posted each week. Come join us.
 |
| Illustration: Florence Edith Storer |
Secrets to Share
we gathered
within blustery
summer days
awaiting
secrets held to share with friends
our special moments
Petrina Lesko
April 2011
The poetry form shared here is Shadorma, a spanish form taught today over at One Stop Poetry in this weeks form lesson. This is my first attempt at Shadorma and I will be linking there at well.
Monday, March 28, 2011
For Lessons Taught
 |
| Illustration by Freddie Langeler 1920's as offered at Monday's Child: fair of face |
The gnomes and fairies fine did come,
For lessons taught by Mr. Hare,
With friends his words, oh we will share.
To learn the lessons we did hum.
Yes coats and tails and hats were some,
To this party we all did wear.
The gnomes and fairies fine did come,
For lessons taught by Mr. Hare.
With wings held back, before and from,
The mouse and bird, tried hard to care,
And cake with all, Sir Hare did share,
To rhythmic words our feet did drum.
The gnomes and fairies fine did come,
For lessons taught by Mr. Hare.
Petrina Lesko
March 2011
The above poem is my first attempt at a Rondel. Due to adding the last line, it is actually a Rondel Prime. It's pattern is ABba abAB abbaA (for Rondel) adding B (for Rondel Prime). It is written in iambic tetrameter - 8 syllables with the stress on the second foot.
The inspiration came from both Monday's Child: fair of face and this weeks illustration by Freddie Langeler and today's lesson, Part II of Rondels over at One Stop Poetry co hosted by Samuel Peralta and Claudia Schonfeld. I will be linking up with both sites.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Leaving Me to Wonder
What dish has this world served you,
That you must try to take some of mine,
That you should violate my world,
Leaving me to wonder...
to wonder if you made your way in.
Are things so bad that you must,
Fight this life of it's good, taking at will,
Another's freedom, freedom to be,
Stealing away the security,
the security of home's locked door.
What is it that you needed so badly,
That you must try to violate the wall,
Penetrating deep within one's being,
Leaving me to wonder,
to wonder if you made your way in.
Are things so needed that I must,
Fright of life, value all that is there,
Possessions being all, things being all,
Security lost, stolen away,
the security of home's locked door.
What is it that we need so badly,
That we must fight for what's ours,
Guarded, locked tight, never to lose,
Leaving me to wonder,
to wonder if you made your way in.
Petrina Lesko
March 2011
I'm sharing this poem over at One Stop Poetry for their One Shot Poetry Wednesday. Stop by to share a poem and/or to read other talented poets.
That you must try to take some of mine,
That you should violate my world,
Leaving me to wonder...
to wonder if you made your way in.
Are things so bad that you must,
Fight this life of it's good, taking at will,
Another's freedom, freedom to be,
Stealing away the security,
the security of home's locked door.
What is it that you needed so badly,
That you must try to violate the wall,
Penetrating deep within one's being,
Leaving me to wonder,
to wonder if you made your way in.
Are things so needed that I must,
Fright of life, value all that is there,
Possessions being all, things being all,
Security lost, stolen away,
the security of home's locked door.
What is it that we need so badly,
That we must fight for what's ours,
Guarded, locked tight, never to lose,
Leaving me to wonder,
to wonder if you made your way in.
Petrina Lesko
March 2011
I'm sharing this poem over at One Stop Poetry for their One Shot Poetry Wednesday. Stop by to share a poem and/or to read other talented poets.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
The Black Royal
The hidden 'trash', the worn out trinkets,
Resting, waiting for us to find them...
Worn out toys, prizes cherished, days forth,
Just beyond the dumpsters, fenced apart.
Bushes keeping them apart from,
The vast space of the yard, darkened,
As we discover things special.
Things gifted to youth, ours alone,
Until that darkened day of light,
The ultimate find, Black Royal,
Hidden freedom of stories.
Resting, waiting, the Black Royal,
Hidden between fence and bush,
Holding secrets that only we,
Could key down on it's pages then.
The curtain pulled slightly, eyes watch,
The broadened smile across her face,
She nods from the window, knowing,
As we discover things special.
Petrina Lesko
February 2011
Resting, waiting for us to find them...
Worn out toys, prizes cherished, days forth,
Just beyond the dumpsters, fenced apart.
Bushes keeping them apart from,
The vast space of the yard, darkened,
Lying in the dust of the earth,
Waiting for eager eyes to find them.
These were the relics of our youth,
Left, 'trash' separated for us,
The curtain pulled slightly, eyes watch,As we discover things special.
Things gifted to youth, ours alone,
Until that darkened day of light,
The ultimate find, Black Royal,
Hidden freedom of stories.
Resting, waiting, the Black Royal,
Hidden between fence and bush,
Holding secrets that only we,
Could key down on it's pages then.
The curtain pulled slightly, eyes watch,
The broadened smile across her face,
She nods from the window, knowing,
As we discover things special.
Petrina Lesko
February 2011
 |
| photo by JackAZ |
This poem was inspired by this photo prompt over at One Stop Poetry and their Sunday Photography Interview. This week is part 2 with JackAZ, you can find more of his photography here.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Scarlet Skies
Tanka, a poetry form I have never attempted, but as I am eager to learn new forms... One Stop Poetry is offering small lessons on Mondays of various forms and a chance to be given feedback. Here is my attempt.
scarlet skies linger
gazing on green majesties
reaching to touch her
effervescant eyes bequeath
beauty within star filled nights
resting within her
open arms welcome morning
scarlet skies lingering still
Petrina Lesko
February 2011
scarlet skies linger
gazing on green majesties
reaching to touch her
effervescant eyes bequeath
beauty within star filled nights
twinkling lighted skies
darkness illuminatedresting within her
open arms welcome morning
scarlet skies lingering still
Petrina Lesko
February 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Framed Landscapes
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| photo by Sean McCormick |
Worlds framed beyond art
Perspectives capture lifescapes
Seasons held within
Petrina Lesko
February 2011
This short Haiku was inspired by One Stop Poetry and the Sunday Photography Interview with Sean McCormick. This amazing photo and many others can be found over at his photography site http://www.neutralhillsstills.ca/index.php. Please go check out more poetry inspired at One Stop Poetry.
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