Beaches and other warm places

Greetings!  Today's double poem post was inspired by two different photographic images: one picture, courtesy of Magpie Tales, is of an old house in the wintertime (and the poem is in the form Monchielle Stanza); the other picture, courtesy of Sis/Few Miles is of footprints left behind, at least for a while, on a beach (and is a 5/7/5 Haiku.)

walking by the surf...

wondering if starfish stroll

underneath the waves

 

Old Mister Brown

Old Mister Brown lived there –

that house with yellow eaves.

Each morning, he’d go out

to buy a quart of milk.

He’d greet me, “So, Old Trout…”

Old Mister Brown lived there –

that house with shingles green.

Each day at two, he’d go

to play chess in the park.

He’d greet me, “Yes, hello.”

Old Mr. Brown lived there –

that house with weathered stairs.

Each night as twilight fell,

he watch as I’d pass by.

He’d greet me, “Hope you’re swell.”

Old Mister Brown lived there –

that house with winter’d trees.

He does not come outside

for friends or milk or chess,

but not because he died…

…he and a lady friend moved to Florida, which is where they now reside.

And since it's 'Double-Shot Tuesday'...

...I'm doing a second post today.  To the left is Magpie Tales' prompt.

Hindsight and the Road Not Taken

My rearview mirror tells me perhaps I should have turned right.

It’s always 20/20 vision, at least in hindsight.

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The Violet Fairy Queen

Illustration by: Anne Anderson 1930's

Monday's Child, the wonderful site which provides writing prompts utilizing antique artwork in order to capture  childhood spirit, has posted the above illustration.  I was inspired by the art to write a short piece involving a fairy goddess from Celtic mythology.

Eolande

In Old Celtic legends

she is the fairy queen

of all violet flowers. 

The full moon blows glitter

o’er her gossamer wings

like deep-hued snow showers.

If you’re a lucky child

then you might catch a glimpse

of Eolande’s flight

when the sky is mauve-blue

and the snow whirls and swirls

on a chill winter’s night.

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Oh yeah, and one other thing...the Rubliw poem from yesterday?  I just realized the form's name is 'Wilbur' spelled backwards.  I wonder if there's a connection...

Ice Cowboys and the Last Snowman

Artist unknown.

Here is another sweet piece of antique artwork, as posted by Monday's Child. It is meant to be the inspirational springboard for interested writers to pen a piece of children's poetry or prose.  The artist of this illustration is unknown (at least for the present) but he or she did a nice job of rendering small kids as they played a wintery game.

I wrote the following poem using a sestet form called the Wordsworth Sestet. 

In Search of the Last Snowman

The neighborhood kids crept over the hill,

silently seeking out the last snowman -

a quite cool chap, who’s been seen by no man

 ‘cept for ice cowboys who don’t mind the chill.

Then suddenly - “Look, tribe!  Look up ahead!

I think that I see him.  Stay mum until…

I give the signal,” the chieftain boy said.

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