Showing posts from April, 2016

Day 4 National Poetry Month: My World

My World  Racing out the door I bark again and again trying to sound bigger than I am. My eyes do not see like they once did. My ears no longer hear the danger that surrounds me. Moving around my favorite spaces to circle the tree, to smell grass, I bark louder. My world is smaller now than it once was. I no longer see the deer taunting me, the rabbits wanting to play. I no longer hear the birds in the trees or my family calling me to come back in. So I will bark long and loud, to protect the space that remains in my world. © Cathy L. Mere, 2016

Day 3 National Poetry Month 2016: Country Living

Country Living When I moved to this country home I knew I did just the right thing. Yes, I miss the power lines, the ability to skitter from tree to tree along city streets. Yes, I miss my cousins who nested in the trees near my old home and would stop by to visit. But it was noisy there in the city, and the cars were too frequent.   When I arrived  at my country home I knew this would be the place I'd live forever. Yes, I have to watch for the dog  that races out of the house from time to time wanting to play chase. Yes, I have to watch for the coyote who saunters through the fields every now and then looking for his next meal.   But, there are no squirrels that live nearby, when oak drops her acorns they are all mine. Cars are rarely seen  near my new home, and the quiet is something I have learned to love. Today I found the best treasure: stuffing for my new nest. It's fluffy white like the c

Day 2 National Poetry Month: The Poet

The Poet I wonder where she finds the words that flow from her pen into her leather bound notebook where pages once blank bounce with lilting lines. She wanders the world with eyes wide open searching for something the rest of us do not yet see. Though poems try to escape her she captures them, piece by piece, in tiny details, in words sculpted with care. Like the photographer she sees with different eyes, holds the image still, for others to see, just as she sees it. Like the musician she finds a rhythm, speaks the truth, in ways we do not understand. Like the artist she captures color, creates mood; helping others to know the beauty overlooked. I want to walk beside her as she spends her day pursuing her poem, words wandering through her world, arranging and rearranging themselves. It must be some kind of magic as she waves her wand pen, turning the ordinary into something never seen before. © Cathy L. Mere, 2016 The Idea To

Day 1 National Poetry Month: Each New Day

I don't know how many sunrises I have seen pinks, purples, and white-yellows blending in the morning sky; the day calling with possibility. I don't know how many times I have looked up at the afternoon sky, bright blue with clouds dancing, settling into the rhythm of the day. I don't know how many sunsets have painted the earth the sun resting on the horizon hues of red, purple, and orange; as the day begins to close. I don't know how many times I've looked up at the ebony sky at night, constellations dot the canvas; as dreams replace reality. I don't know how many skies I have seen in this wonderful lifetime or how many more will follow in moments yet to come. I only know I am grateful for each. © Cathy L. Mere, 2016 It's Poetry Friday!  Stop by  The Poem Farm  where Amy VanDerwater hosts today's parade of wondrous words.