Poetry of the Sea

Photo by Erik Johansson Master Photo-Manipulation Artist

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 61
come join us!

The ocean does not preach a sermon

Though it has much to tell

That it shares with the moon and every sea shell

It bravely tells as it swells to the shore

Deep like a poet that speaks high to the sea gulls that soar

But Its stories are not heard by man and his makings

For he does not hear when he is too busy taking

He builds and he builds as he strips from the land

It is a sad truth widely known by each grain of sand

So the sea keeps on moving and reaching out

Whispering a message of longing that is true no doubt

For The ocean does not preach a sermon

Though it has much to say

It is heard not in man’s churches but in each unsettling wave.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019

County Fair Second Place Preserves

Image Source

Linking with wonderful Toni's Wednesday Muse # 13 ~Berries

I am a jar of crazy eyed musings

And you can set me on any shelf and my peripheral vision will not spoil

A mix of wise pondering and scattered ideas

That jell perfectly in a soft berry muse

Spread me on a blank page

Take small bites

Some may be sticky

But sweetness will roll off your tongue

In between the bites

May be a little tart

please take all it in slowly

Life is sweet poetry

And so is breakfast and berries

If you look at it

With a poet’s heart.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019

Note: 

I do not have any wonderful memories of picking berries with my parents, but the lady that watched me after my mother passed away was a farm lady named Odessa and I would go out in the field with her many times picking vegetables and such.  Every year she would go to the County Fair with her latest preserves, and she would let me help her make some so that I could have my own jar to put in the contest.  I think I won second place one time.  My memories of her and the simple life they lived, is etched on my heart, and I am certain that it is in the simplicity of growing and sustaining life that poetry is truly born. 

Thirst of Another Kind

Photography by Carlo Pautasso

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 59
Come join us!
"They roll by just like water 
And I guess we never learn 
Go through life parched and empty 
Standing knee deep in a river and dying of thirst."
~Kathy Matea

It is desolate in the place of longing

Where I wait for you to notice me and

  quench my desire with more than a passing nod

You with your fountain eyes that never flow my direction

Could you not see me withering away with pining

I would have soaked up anything you would have given me

Hung on your words like petals on a flower

For thirsty is a place that drowns in yearning

Dry throats do not crumple like leaves

But hearts do

Leaving nothing to fall to the ground

But regret

And that is the most desolate place of all.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019

A Funny Thing Happened on My Way Out of the Auditorium

Linking with Toni's Muse # 11 "I love to laugh"

Come join us!

"Some things are funny after the fact."

~ me

A Funny Thing Happened on My Way Out of the Auditorium

I was attending a graduation

A long time ago, it has been a decade or two

I got dressed up for the occasion

Something I rarely do

You know how it is

Trying to look your best

Wanting to honor the family

So you wear a dress

And then it happens

Your elastic band breaks

Not the one on a sleeve

But a half-slip for heaven’s sake

It is a tricky situation

One that calls for quick action and some luck

but my hands are just not clever or near fast enough

To stop the slip from slipping all the way down to the floor

Right in the middle of heading to the auditorium door!

Moral of the story is:

Do NOT try to put the fallen slip back on, simply pick it up and put it in your purse.  Unfortunately, my gut instinct was not the latter.  LOL

Souls & Horses

Photo by Tatiana from Pexels

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 58
Come join us!

Horses and children, I often think, have a lot of the good sense there is in the world.  ~Josephine Demott Robinson

Like ghosts we walk through miracles never knowing how close we come

For we cannot see what we do not believe

But in another life we were horses

Where no fences gated our hearts

Free to be what we truly were

We galloped far beyond what could be seen

Grazing truth all the while

And always hungry for more

Like a mighty wind our spirits pushed through

Making themselves known to all

For freedom does not linger on regret

Nor feed on darkness

It moves on gallantly in the light of day

and those willing to let go

Will dare to jump any fence that comes their way

But that was another life and time

The rising dust of a distant star

Here we walk through miracles never knowing how close we come

Ghosts cannot touch, but merely pass by in silence

And we cannot see what we do not believe.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019