Unseen Emotions

Written for:  Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads – MicroPoetry~Notebook Poetry
“Breakable”  (posted by Kerry)

“I wondered if I might inspire others to return to the comfort of pen and paper. I do not expect you all to rush about looking for an ancient bottle of ink (like I did) but I would love to see a photo of your work written in your own handwriting, or some kind of graphic presentation of your poem.”



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Renga with H.F. Noyes

Written for:  Carpe Diem #1523 H.F. Noyes’ … rusty toy truck (Renga With …)
“This episode I love to challenge you all to create a renga together with H.F. Noyes as we do in that special feature “Renga With …” I have chosen six haiku to work with. You can make your own “line-up” and than add your two lined stanza to make it a wonderful renga in honor of Noyes.”
“Tom’s interest in haiku began through study of R. H. Blyth’s four-volume Haiku. Noyes’ work appeared in poetry journals worldwide and in many anthologies, including collections published in the USA, Canada, Slovenia, New Zealand, South Korea, Japan, India, Romania, Italy, Portugal, Greece, and England. His favourite authors were Thoreau, D.H. Lawrence, and Dostoevsky, and his favourite poets were Frost, Jeffers, Yannis Ritsos, Francis Ponge, the T’ang and Sung Dynasty poets, and the old masters: Basho, Buson, and Issa of Japan. In Modern Haiku (2008, 39:1, p.125) H. F. Noyes wrote: “Re definitions of haiku, I honor Basho’s, ‘Do not follow in the footsteps of the ancients. Seek what they sought.’ If they could speak from beyond the grave, Basho, Buson and Issa would caution that a haiku is not a product of mind, but of heartmind. The most precious ingredient in a haiku that ingratiates itself with us is likely to be spontaneity . . . an unselfconscious catching of the haiku spirit as it flies. The depth reflected is chiefly through afterthought in readers’ minds. The writer is content to convey a sense of wonder.”


Empty Beach in the Moonlight

bright fall day
the brook wanders off
its shimmer lingers                              © H.F. Noyes

glazed by the sun’s brilliance
darkening, late afternoon                   © Sara McNulty

rusty toy truck
stuck on the mudbank
a cargo of blossoms                            © H.F. Noyes

at center of photograph
someone sees the beauty                    © Sara McNulty

raking aside leaves
on the backyard and pond
I release the moon                            © H.F. Noyes

light falling and pooling
creating a clear evening                   © Sara McNulty

evening walk
the creak of my boots
invades the stars                              © H.F. Noyes

quiet in a silver sky
no sound except my own step       © Sara McNulty

full moon rising
nowhere on the empty beach
to hide our love                                © H.F. Noyes

forms a wide disk across sand
reveals glow of jellyfish                  © Sara McNulty

as if nothing happened
the crow there
the willow here                                 © H.F. Noye


the brook stills in place
no trace of shimmer lingers            © Sara McNulty



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Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 – Autumn PAD – Day 7 – WINDY
“The wind whips up more often as the temperature inversion takes hold. Today we will deal with the wind. There is much that is affected by the wind. Write on one of them.”

Wind has come out to play
havoc with hats, leaves,
and limbs of trees, that bend
backward and forward,
checking after each gust
to see if another piece
of their clothing is lost.
Cost of dealing with a windy day–
October teeth nipping at
the heel of November.



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Flame Of Orange

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 – Autumn PAD – Day 6 – ORANGE
“As the foliage changes and we’re awash with the vibrancy of autumn, we’ll take one of the prominent colors, orange, as our inspiration. Write something orange. Remember, nothing rhymes with orange. Except for door hinge. Close but no cigar.”

Ooh la la! Orange
has come out to play–
not in a clockwork,
not as a fruit,
not as a prison suit.
This orange flames
leaves, arranges
sunsets with a wide
fiery brush. Some
upscale pumpkins are orange
-worthy, others, not out
-standing in their field.
Who, if not orange, is better
prepared for Autumn’s harvest.
Ooh la la!


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Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 – Autumn PAD – Day 5 – CORNUCOPIA
“We’ve all seen the symbol of harvest time in the cornucopia (Horn of Plenty). It is a gathering of things related in some way that marks the success of an endeavor. Write it literally or go out on a limb and express your abundance! Maybe take each item and equate it to an aspect of life. You’ve got plenty with which to work.”

Leave them alone
this season of Spring,
as they begin maturation.
Roots growing, fruit trees
budding, and vines
entangling–all in preparation
for Autumn’s harvest,
a plentiful horn
of every color.


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Written for:  Poets United Midweek Motif~Abundance  (posted by Susan)

“You can’t use up creativity.
The more you use, the more you have.”
~ Maya Angelou


Vasudhara, Goddess of Abundance, 1082 AD

“Your Challenge: In a new poem ~ show what, if anything, makes you aware of abundance.”

Abundance feels excessive
to me. I see a field stretching–
miles of pumpkins to pick.
     Too many choices

Waiter brings a menu
tome which can scarcely be
studied that quickly.
     Too many choices

Gold bling swings from ears to
neck to wrist. Hard to extricate
a piece to admire.
     Too many choices

Abundance will not seem excessive
if there is more than enough
food to feed anyone who is hungry.
A rich harvest is a good form
of abundance.


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Leave Them in Peace

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 – Autumn PAD – Day 4 – LEAVES
“Again with the leaves? But we aren’t talking colors, only the leaf itself. Simply write a leaf poem. Everything is fair game. Maybe your life as a leaf? A leaf’s job. A leaf causing problems. The playful properties of a leaf? Don’t leave any stone unturned.”

Leave them alone, first day of Spring,
those kids sitting on playground swings
scuffing feet, reading, debating.
No bullying! No bullying!

They look different, clothing un-chic.
Don’t put up posts that call them freaks.
Don’t persuade others, they are geeks.
Our differences make us unique.
Leave them in peace. Leave them in peace.


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Red Silk Ecstasy

Written for:  Poetic Asides #458 – Write an ecstatic poem.

This poem is ecstasy,
fantasy, tied up
in red silk ribbon.

This poem lead you
to clouds, miles away
from all things earthly.

Your skin glows, with slow moves
of seduction. Perfume of taste
and scent envelop your being.

This poem knows ecstasy
when it hears it–the moaning,
groaning sounds of entwined bodies.

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What A Turkey!

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics:  Beauty in Ugliness  (posted by Mish)

“Find the beauty in the ugly. Open yourself up to discover something not as noticeable at first glance. Refuse to be repulsed by what you see. Embrace the ugliness and transform it into something beautiful before your eyes. Then pen it into a poem.

You may want to express the contrasts of perspectives or you may simply focus on the beauty alone. To be clear, I am not asking you to find beauty in evil. There is no beauty to be found there. Explore the deformities of nature, the unsightliness of a cluttered mess, or the details of decay. Choose an image that you would normally not find attractive. In other words, if you can immediately find the prettiness in the warty toad, leave him for someone else’s muse. Challenge yourself in the discovery of beauty.”


His face is red
and white
in complicated
designs. A large beak
faces downward, supported
by proud red wattles. His
body, covered in rows
of green and orange shingle
shapes, completes the bird’s
full look. A turkey trots
to show off its beauteous
color, and regal carriage.
Large brown eyes take
everything in.


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Written for:  The Twiglets #98 – “to criticize”

How can I criticize you,
let me count the ways.
Wait! My litany just grew,
and you simply don’t have enough days.


How long does it take to grow
a hide of rugged leather
against hurtful criticism?
Flexible leather would
be best, allowing you to bend
enough to listen, and perhaps
consider another point
of view. It could be enough
to accept, without agreeing,
and without anger or hurt.

Two storybook kids, Jack and Jill
toting pails would both climb up the hill
Jack said Jill was lazy
Jill called him pure crazy
To prove himself stronger, Jack worked ’til pails toppled and spilled.



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