Amputated Moon

I rise from dinner leaving

chicken, potatoes, and yogurt

the westward door beckons

ochre stains the horizon

beyond the long-leaf pines

and the rolling purpled-hills

as the sun crashes down

leaving its light-shadows

to linger in the air

and on the ground

reflecting on the angular gravel

lying within the road’s banks

ochre overflows the banks

flooding the straw strewn

on the rust-filled earth

‘erosion control’

here in the failing light

with road dust in my mouth

Pamela Olson, 5/29/08

This poem was written for

Friday 5 at Poefusion

like a prodigal child

I circle around where I belong

gathering bits and pieces of place

holding them close as I leave again

remnants of home

rocks and wood

found on beaches and in forests

primeval in their isolation

the wind whispers

through the mist of the wave’s curl

through the needles of the evergreens

a parent’s call for me to return

Pamela Olson, 5/27/08

This poem was written for the prompt

“The Return” on Writer’s Island.

the remnants of roots

lie locked in day’s ligature

what was dark is light

what was buried is unearthed

spent roots bound up with the sky

Pamela Olson, 5/26/08

This poem is an exploration of the prompt

“quitting” at Sunday Scribblings

star constellations

reflected in the ocean

sky lies under sky

Pamela Olson

This haiku was written for the

prompt “reflecting” at One Single Impression

red tide and blood moon

fires burn the forests bare

the world is bleeding

Pamela Olson, 5/18/08

This haiku was written for the

prompt “bleeding” at

One Single Impression

this day the child dances

through the blue waters

the fish leaps

to taste the sunlight

umbrellas are lowered

for no rain falls

the old man sees

hope for a new day

while the woman

sings softly

her song floats on a breeze

a smile flashes as

the child reaches

for the small boat

which sails on the blue waters

in the warm sunlight

Pamela Olson, 5/17/08

This poem was written for the art prompt

at Mine Enemy Grows Older

no place left to live

home is a blue umbrella

tears stream down your face

tears fall on your child

held tightly against more loss

death lurks everywhere

Pamela Olson 5/16/08

In  memory of those who have died,

in honor of those who are left.

We found the gull

you and I

as we walked along the beach

choked with driftwood

tossed so easily from wave to sand

during the winter rages

it was just there

eyeing us as we passed by

letting us be far too close

casting our shadows

gray and soft

on the cloudy day

the strands of fishing line

sparkled in the brief light

the sun finding its way

out of the maze of

cloud and mist

to strike the line at the right time

fishing line woven around wings

left by some tourist

or another who doesn’t know

the danger of leaving

seemingly innocuous

bits of this civilization behind

woven into an accidental net

to capture the gull here

on the sand and driftwood

not in the sky free-wheeling

along the dunes

and the waves

caught close to the earth

in this dangerous world

feet firmly planted

wingspan reduced

the gull becomes

just one of us

here on this beach

Pamela Olson, 5/16/08

This poem was written for the prompt

“wingspan” at Easystreet Prompts

poppy-colored flames

grow from an ashen burnt log

flowers are blooming

in a wintery snowfall

warmth and springtime arrive soon

Pamela Olson, 5/14/08

This Tanka was written for the prompt

“warm” at One Single Impression.

now is when the phone rings

when the dreams rise and fall

now is when most of us arrive

and now is when we depart

in the pre-dawn darkness

our monsters arrive

to take away our sure logic

leaving us with unknowns

when our fears are strong

when our eyes are shuttered by the dark

our ears are keen for the unexpected

small things seem enormous

now is the time we can’t count

the comings and goings of souls

now is the time we can’t measure

and categorize and control

we lose the fine lines of the EKG

and the ridges and whorls of the fingerprint

the sure beating of the heart

we lose the measure of who we are

but still dawn creeps forward

into the chaos of darkness

and the earth turns

without any one of us doing a thing

day arrives

jeweled in sunlight

we can finally see

what the night has brought

Pamela Olson, 5/12/08

This was written in response to the prompt

at Poefusion.

Photo:  by Andrew Mrt1976
artwork Fingerprint
from flickr