B is for BLESSED SLEEP #AtoZChallenge

April #AtoZChallenge and #PoetryMonth

 

Three goals I had in mind while writing my collection of linked poetry:

1. To celebrate my appreciation of life

2. To experience the process of writing linked poetry, a form of Japanese renshi

3. To give thanks for and better appreciate a life well-lived.

 

The flowers are a colorful bonus for the #AtoZChallenge

 

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B is for Blessed Sleep and Bougainvillea

 

Scene in Kaimuki on O'ahu
photo by Gail Baugniet

 

Blessed Sleep

 

With eyelids squeezed tight

you count down from ten

then twenty, fifty, a hundred

to no avail. 

Silence begs for shouting

to distract the thoughts

that won’t allow, grant, permit

blessed sleep. 

Sirens peel strips of flesh

from your insomniac mind,

daring fingers and lips

to remain still.

 ***   ***   ***

This poem describes an accelerating reaction, as a taunting voice issues a dare to find peace outside the pain of noisy chaos. Sleeplessness leads to growing agitation. Worries mount, seeping into the conscious mind and likely assuring that any hope of sleep is futile.

What thoughts surfaced as you read the words of this poem?

A is for ANOTHER NEW BEGINNING #PoetryMonth and #AtoZChallenge

ANOTHER NEW BEGINNING

70 Poems for 70 days available at Amazon

 

70 poems for 70 days is a collection of linked poems. They are patterned after renshi poetry, which links each poem to the next. I introduced these poems during an #AtoZChallenge for bloggers during a  poetry month of April. I wrote each poem as part of a larger project, linking the poems together renshi-style. However, the poems are being posted here with an eye toward the alphabet, as viewing things through a different set of eyes often gives one a new perspective. I am eager to see how my poetry presents itself when removed from the structured context. May this prove to be an interesting experiment for everyone.

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The impetus for this collection of poetry was an occurrence still fresh in my mind. The ink for my first poem fairly spilled onto the page as I recalled the words of a nice college-aged young man who had sauntered over to me at a Honolulu bus stop on June 11th, King Kamehameha Day. 





Lei draping on King Kamehameha Day



 

The young man offered me a tiny yellow blossom. He smiled and said, “A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady.” I’m sure my appearance reminded him of  his (exceptionally alert  and  spry)grandmother. Perhaps he was feeling nostalgic for home. I accepted the flower and smiled back. With a light step, he departed, and I felt he had made the world a brighter place for having shared his joie de vivre.

 

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A Tiny Flower

 

Gold, each tiny petal

unites to form the helmet

of a flower’s bloom.

 

Together, their beauty

like solid sunshine

takes my breath away

 

A kind word, shared

without expectation, forms

a binding link to the universe.

 

Gazes remain fixed

as I board TheBus in silence

and still smiling, take my seat

 

Air brakes lift

We roll forward, and

the universe smiles back.

 **********

Gold, each tiny petal

 

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Fluid Shades of Poetry in Bloom

Bougainvillea

Summertime in Chinatown

Smiling Wahine

 

 

The wide variety of bougainvillea colors that exist always amazes me. Whenever I come upon a hedge or bush overflowing with bright  hues, my camera practically jumps out of my tote bag. In Queen Kapiolani Park, at the far end of Waikiki, I took photographs of a beautiful array of bushes The display represented a complete blend of an after-shower rainbow, another act of nature that always makes me smile.

 

Even with all those choices though, my favorite is still the brilliant purple contained in a proliferation of bushes found all over the island, from Hawai'i Kai to Hale'iwa and Kapolei to Turtle Bay.

 

The above picture was taken in the early 1990's. This was before a clean-up crew chopped away the branches of flowering bushes that hung over the Nu’uanu Stream canal. The stream flows down from the Ko'olau Mountains, runs parallel to River Street in Chinatown, and all the way to the ocean. With so many extended stretches of concrete and brick buildings, erected after the plague and fire of 1900, I miss the vibrancy and sense of comfort that those blossoms once offered to the area.