Snowfall

Lazy snowflakes drift to earth

transforming dreary landscape

with spotless blanket 

of pristine fluff.

I look out on Christmas-card world,

count my blessings--

of eyes that see,

spirit that perceives

wonders of creation all around me. 

Divine Lord,

what a miracle is 

your conception!

 

 October Thoughts

Spring Has Sprung

Spring Has Sprung

Spring has sprung; it's really sick 

I've had my very first wood tick. 

Bad as it is, I did have luck 

the blasted thing was not yet stuck. 

It woke me from a nice sound sleep,

when up my arm I felt it creep. 

This being this and that being that, 

I know it came from our darn cat. 

Do you want to know just what I said? 

That's the last BLANKITTY BLANK time she sleeps on my bed! 

This is an acrostic that begins with the first sentence beginning with the letter Z and continues in chronological order, ending at A. 

I Rise

Zooming across the bridge, I rise, almost become entangled in the overhead girders, but manage to level off. Yellow ribbons spiral in my wake. Xanthic vibes radiate out behind from the speed at which I make my escape. 

When have I ever had a chance like this? 

Very soon I will be free of this bridge too, and its entangling cross pieces overhead. Usually his hand controlled my every move, curtailed my bids for freedom. This opportunity had arisen suddenly, so suddenly he was powerless to stop my flight.
Sky, clouds, the moon, stars ¾ there will be no end. Racing toward the final girder, I miscalculate and am stopped so suddenly my tail shoots past me. Quashing my disappointment, I thrash and twist, struggling for freedom. 

Please, wind, yank me away. Only you can save me now. Never before have I needed you more. 

My plea is answered!  Leaving earth-bound creatures, soaring to freedom, I salute my friend, the current of air that has set me free. Kin to the wind, brethren to breezes, my soul soars aloft. Jealous of birds no more, I weave, spiral, dip and dive. I am free. Heaven beckons me onward, upward and no one can hold me back. Gentle breezes threaten to ground me, as I twitch and turn, searching for an updraft. Finally, a zephyr becomes a gust as I spread my tips and rise again. Earth, you have no hold on me. Divine peace is mine as I rise, I rise, I rise. 

Certain of my freedom, I dare to dream of sights unseen, adventures awaiting. Behold the vast and open sky, my home forevermore. Anchored no longer by a human hand holding my string, I rise.

The Grass is Still Green          Linda Ducharme  Oct 9/19

Birds fatten – fluffed-up feathers,
trees display flower-like foliage.
Sun dares to throw heat rays
As North Wind claims victory,
But…the grass is still green.

Dawn’s warm hues herald new day’s
orange, peachy pink promises.
Venture outside – hasten back
For insulated jacket and gloves
though the grass is still green.

Water-logged fields hold harvest at bay.
Squash leaves, brittle, brown, bent and dry.
Stubborn beet leaves stand erect
stoutly supported by thick purple tubers,
And the grass is still green.

O Summer, where have you gone?
Why have you vanished so soon?
We weren’t yet finished our fun and games
swimming, beach parties, barbeques
while the grass is still green.

Blankets, cold and white will soon appear
covering all summer souvenirs,
putting to rest warm days of our youth,
hiding treasures – hot days, warm evenings and sun
while the grass was still green.

Our hair turns white, like wintry snow,
feeble limbs falter and fail,
but memories hold dear, thoughts of our dawn
as we grasp at the straws of our youth.
And surely, our grass is still green.

 May Morning, Manitoba

Breaking free of horizon
sun highlights dry maple seeds –
a thousand golden fairy lights
dangle from broken branch.

White throated sparrow trills
Oh, sweet Canada, Canada, Canada.
Bouquet of robins
bobs across saturated lawn.

High on power line 

lone purple martin hunches –
dispirited monk
awaiting delayed insect feast. 

Cotton-ball clouds,
turquoise sky
promise glorious
Manitoba spring day.

Grand Entrance  by Linda Ducharme

Deep dusky indigo gradually lightens.
Vermillion band along horizon
introduces warmth, spreads.
Brick-red lightens
becomes pumpkin and strawberry.
Vibrant magenta dances above,
tickling cloud bases,
fades
to pallid pink, a pastel blush,
warm shades fade.
Clear, clean, cobalt replaces radiant hues.
Sol emerges in eastern sky.

Farewell   by Linda Ducharme    

Dark indigo bands lattice
Balmy red-orange flush.
Glowing magenta feathers ripple overhead.
Pastel echoes paint inverted-bowl sky,
Diminish, deteriorate, disappear.
Sol’s western farewell.

CLINGING

Four dry leaves
cling to dormant
chokecherry tree
fight inevitable fate

of all life

cling to past glories
refuse reality.

I shall not pass
from this life
un-mourned
lie on the ground
forgotten — scorned.

Is this why ghosts
cling to existence,
Earth-bound
afraid of next,
unknown destiny?

Journey’s End   

Linda Ducharme

You see me as this hopeless mess,
a worn out husk or shell.
I’m stuck here for these last long days.
Please don’t prolong this hell

I’m in right now. I can’t escape
this slow and painful death.
Just ease for me these endless hours
until my final breath.

I, too, was young and carefree once
and laughed at all life’s woes.
I, too, was once a much-loved child,
though none of that now shows.

I led some men a merry dance
and flirted with a few.
I held a new-born babe of mine
with skin as fresh as dew.

I once was young and pretty.
I once was wild and free.
But now I lie in these white sheets
and you must tend to me.

God bless you as you pause to speak,
and, always with your smile,
you help to ease my weary days
as I trudge this final mile.

There is no way my soul can reach
to let you know how much
I really need your gentleness,
the kindness of your touch.

My soul is yearning now to leave
this worn-out, Earth-bound shell.
Your patient, kind and selfless care
means more than I can tell.

Forgive me when my body fails
to do what I would ask.
To clean it, turn it, try to feed it
is now your daily task.

I don’t mean to be a burden.
I don’t mean to moan and weep.
These last few months –– so hard to bear
till I sleep my final sleep.

My wrinkled skin, my withered brow,
my wasted flesh and bone
aren’t all that there is left of me,
the best part’s going home.

When finally I’m released from this
hard bed, these pain-filled days,
the Lord will grant me peace at last
to tread the heavenly ways.

Worth the Cost    Linda Ducharme

While the cat transfers
her excess hair
to my pant legs
I watch from my window
countless colorful birds,
safe from her feline ferocity.

Orioles argue, feisty goldfinches feast
on niger seed and black oil sunflower seeds.
Shy gross beak shows his colours
as nuthatch darts
to grab its share.

Redwinged blackbirds
accompanying cowbirds and grackles –
not welcome at my feeders.
Too greedy, aggressive.

I fire cap gun –
scare them off.

Mourning dove whirs skyward –
Sorry, I watch her noisy flight.
Bird seed, dog food, cat chow
costs me more than my own food.
It’s worth the price –

These other forms of life
bring pleasure to mine.

Eternal Hope

Spring will emerge!
Grass and trees will green again.
Song birds will sing
Their joy of spring
Gardens and flowers will blossom in rain.

Days lengthen slowly
Sun's heat erodes snow
Winter winds wither
Breezes draw thither
Fluffy clouds shade warming soil below.

Thank you, Lord, for seasons.

Women’s Songs     

I hear all women singing
an inspirational song.
Sisters of the universe -
Shoulder-to-shoulder strong.
Songs of life they share.

I hear all women singing.
On earth they all belong,
start of life or ending,
feeble ones and strong.
Sisters all together.

I hear young women singing
Songs of youthful fear,
Songs of angst and longing
For a soul mate to appear.
A home to build together.

I hear young women singing
songs of love’s embrace,
intimate satisfaction
reflects in loved one’s face.
Two unite as one.

I hear some women singing,
creation understood,
singing miracles of birth,
ecstasy of motherhood.
Blessings of the dawn.

I hear young women singing,
“My body needs some rest.
I need some solitary time
But baby needs my breast.”
Night time nursing woes.

I hear some women singing
songs of caution, songs of need,
“This planet is in trouble,
our insatiable greed
rapes our Mother Earth.”

I hear some women weeping.
Death and danger, blood and gore,
binding wounds with prayer
as men beat drums of war.
Forfeit sons and daughters.

I hear empty women singing
songs of children gone.
Time has taken them away;
wheel of life spins on.
Seek another song.

I hear all women singing
songs of solidarity
In oppressive systems,
Sisters suffer indignity.
Women stand united, strong.

I hear old women singing
songs of soul’s release,
songs of gentle pleading
seeking well-earned peace.
Death, a sweet embrace.

I hear all women singing
Songs of joy and hope and prayer,
Songs of sorrow, songs of pain,
Songs for life and love to share.
Women’s songs go on.

Nature's Glitter

Nature’s Glitter     

Linda Ducharme Sunday, March 10, 2019     

Mother Nature tossing glitter
fills the air with sparkling frost particles.
Sunlight reflects as they twinkle and dance. 

I’m living in a Christmas card,
breath-taking beauty.
The air comes alive with a billion
diamond dust specks
How can one be gloomy on such a day?

Many things I must accomplish,
however, here I sit,
transfixed by splendor outside my window.

If our Earth, a pale reflection of heaven,
can present such wonder,
how glorious heaven must be! 

Imagine.

Poetry etc, by Linda

I will be posting poetry and some acrostic stories I have written. I invite you to read and post any comments. 
An acrostic is a story following strict guidelines of alphabetically started sentences. All letters of the alphabet must be used in the correct order and usually the starting of the article is given. The first ones have been in a b c order but then we had a challenge of starting with Z and ending at A.
For example your story might begin-

As I was walking down the street I met a strange man. Bags of garbage were dangled from his arms. Clinging to the bags, different insects decorated each. Dreading to pass too closely, I crossed the street. Even from a distance I could smell decaying material. ... and so on until you end at Z. In your entry the beginning of each sentence should not be highlighted as I have here. The story should be seamless and flow naturally. Try it yourself. It is a challenge to expand your writing skills.