Poetry Friday: How Many?

It's Poetry Friday.  Stop by Teacher Dance, where Linda Baie hosts today's roundup.  Thanks, Linda.

How Many?
The door opens.
I step outside
greeted by the sunrise -
again.

I don't know
how many suns,
how many moons,
how many times,
I've looked at the sky.

Sunrise or sunset.
Morning or night.
Mid afternoon
as clouds dance across the sky.

Every single time,
my breath catches.
I stop;
caught in the moment.
Each sky a new masterpiece,
painted hues of possibility.

I don't know how many times
I've marveled.
I only know
each sky
a gift.

© Cathy L. Mere, 2014


Over at Today's Little Ditty, Michelle has been talking about zenos.  J. Patrick Lewis has challenged everyone to give them a try.  I've tried and found them to be much more challenging than I imagined. Here's a few attempts.

A few sky zeros...
The morning sky begins to shine
pink, purple, red,
so I
glance
at painted sky.
Colors
dance.
This masterpiece,
just one
chance.

© Cathy L. Mere, 2014


Ev'ry sky a quiet surprise
Each in background
Brightest
blue.
Made of color
ev'ry
hue.
Each masterpiece
painted
new.

© Cathy L. Mere, 2014

Comments

  1. I love the zenos, Cathy, & your poem too: "painted hues of possibility" just sounds wonderful! And the ending of both zenos is terrific! Thanks for sneaking in to Poetry Friday. I almost didn't notice you were there! Happy Weekend!

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  2. Cathy, your sky poem. So true! Perfect! I get a front row seat to the sunrise every morning from the second floor classrooms at my school. Takes my breath away every single morning! Thank you for this!

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  3. Like you, Cathy, I am a big time fan of the sky. When I lived in New Mexico, I probably walked around most of the time with my jaw dropped, I was so in awe of that "big sky."

    And if you will allow me to be parently for a moment here, I am SO proud of you for sticking with the zeno form all month long and finally coming up with these beauties! Lovely!

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  4. Love the sky poem, Cathy. And that magnificent photograph.

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  5. I like the sense of wonder in all these poems -- seeing the sky with fresh eyes, no matter how many times you've admired it before.

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