Go outside and inhale. It’s there. You can feel it. What is it? As the title indicates, it’s “IN THE AIR TONIGHT.”
Your poem today involves something “in the air.” A flock of birds, ominous clouds or the sweet smell of success are all fair game for this prompt. And the air is an infinite concept. Even writing about your home planet will qualify.
So take that lung full of fresh air and sit down to pen your poem. If it’s “IN THE AIR TONIGHT,” it’s in there, alright!
MARIE ELENA’S POEM:
EVAPORATION (a Fibonacci)
Her
heart’s
silent
insistent
pulsing prayers ascend –
cares vanishing into thin air.
WALT’S ATMOSPHERE:
BON VOYAGE!
Living on the flight path,
hearing the roar of jets heading
to and from parts unknown. The noise
has grown on me, or at least
the beast has been tamed in my mind.
I find myself fantasizing, that I’m up there;
a window seat and a sweet escape
awaiting. I’m debating – Florida
or to L.A.? It does not matter.
Any place would be better, I’d say.
“Up, up and away!”
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
Ah, yes…together you have a wing and a prayer! 😉
Hahaha! So we do! 😀 !
meg
Oh, Paula, groan/wink! Marie, loved your “fib,” with its take on “thin air” and its graceful settling.
Walt, you sound like you’re ready to hit the road! Great rhyme scheme and bouyant attitude. Sorry I’m late posting, but busy weekend… Peace, Amy
Both of these are inspiring Walt and Marie Elena – from the pulsing prayer to the up, up and away … yes, I say – let’s get a move on!
I love that you used a fib for such an achingly poignant prayer poem, Marie. To me, because it is the mathematical pattern found in nature it makes your poem so connected to what is, so very powerful. ❤
I'm with you, Walt, a trip to anywhere would be just magical for the muse me thinks!!
Excellent prompt and poems you two…
BIG warm Hannah-smiles to all the poetical peeps!!
:D!!!
I had to reread to see where the “fib” came in! lol Everyone is so clever around here. Marie and Walt, awesome poems to start us off. What a prompt. I wrote two yesterday already, and a couple more dancing in my head.
:-)) Too true, Paula!
[…] at Poetic Bloomings – Prompt “In the Air Tonight” Share this:TwitterFacebookLike this:LikeBe the first to like this post. Posted in: Bagpipes, In […]
Cauld Pipe Reels
Men in plaid, skirted
and flirting with machismo
where’er they go they blow.
The sound sweet as chocolate
filling the air; making the hair
on my arms to stand and salute.
The intonation is a sensation
that any Scot would devour.
It is our theme, the soundtrack
that brings us back to the sod.
My God, it fills the air with flair,
whene’er the cauld pipe reels play there.
“It is our theme, the soundtrack
that brings us back to the sod.”
I so enjoy the deeply grounded feeling that these lines bring to me, Dyson. Excellent poem!
Ditto Hannah’s comments, Dyson.
A beautiful description of the feelings I get when bagpipes are in the air. I tear up every time! I teared up reading this wonderful poem as well.
Does make the hair stand on end
First time reading you, Dyson. Your pairing of chocolate and the air, great. Also, the classical feeling of this poem tells me you really know Scotland. I’m Irish, but I’ve never been… this makes me want to pair your Celtic with Walt’s plane and head to my homeland! Amy
Dyson, This is wonderful. Wish I was there.
Beautiful Poem! Love, love the bagpipes!
Yes, me too.
Aye, Dyson, loved this one. The pipes play at our house frequently. Last year we introduced a couple of parrots to the pipes and they didn’t say a word all afternoon. They listened intently, swaying to the sound, I guess they had really good taste, too.
Thanks for the reminder today.
What a curious thing, Clauds. Cool!
meg
Ask Mikki. They were her birds. They were driving us crazy one morning while Jo and I were visiting. So Jo put on one of our CDs of the pipes. They didn’t make a sound, but they listened very intently, swaying with music.
We did interpret that to mean they liked it. And they remained quiet for a long time afterward, too.
WISHFUL
If I could but fly upon a wing
Just to and fro I think I’d go
Perhaps to fly with birds that sing
If I could but fly upon a wing
Then gather treasure to homeward bring
From lands that no one else can know
If I could but fly upon a wing
Just to and fro I think I’d go.
This is a birds song of sorts Marjory, I love the idea of bringing treasures from afar. So beautiful!
…yes…!!
Lovely and true.
I would go too!
This reminds me of so many childhood poems.:)
lovely
This should be a children’s song. It has great pacing for a kid to recite and good rhyme for the same purpose. Top it off with a great little message. What more could anyone want?
Thank you each for your comments.
The poem just gave me a good feeling when I wrote, glad that it spoke to you. 🙂
Peter Pan and Tinker Bell
May I fly away with you
On moon beams or in sunshine
To fill wishful dreams.
Beyond Circumstance
Blink your eyes and stumble
through another day so bright.
You can smell it and you hear it
coming at you in the light.
There’s a vision that’s been resting
in the gray behind your eyes,
seeping out in subtle hints
and half-hearted tries.
It’s in the air that lifts you up
on wings as you shall dance
while moving to a special place
far beyond circumstance.
By Michael Grove
“There’s a vision that’s been resting
in the gray behind your eyes,”
Love this!
“…while moving to a special place
far beyond circumstance.”
What a soothing thought and expression.
What Hannah said!
Ditto! 🙂
How special!
Oh, of course I just love: “…in the air on wings as you shall dance…”
I must echo Marjory’s comment. Moving is exactly the right word. Seems like this poem was written from “a thin place,” near the border of what is and what’s to be… lovely, Mike. Amy
Ladies, Thank You all for your positive comments. Nice observation Amy.
Love this, Mike. It sings, literally. I’m listening to music and I tend to read aloud. The words went with the melody and the rhthym perfectly.
That song will be going round in my head for days now! Hence the crabby poem.
The tail end of a tropical storm from America
has arrived here to put an end to summer.
Beryl has crossed the Atlantic
upsetting French weather
wind and rain are
in the air
Rainy here too for two days now! Rainy day smiles to you, Viv!
Stay warm and dry under one of your lovely quilts, Viv! 🙂
Beryl barreled across the Atlantic to cause you trouble? Shame on Beryl! On behalf of America, where all crummy storms seem to originate, I officially apologize! Love, Amy
Ah, Viv, don’t blame all of us. I’ve seen the sun once in the last week. It’s been gray, cold, and rainy here, too, except for yesterday when it hit near 80 with rain.
Besides, you can look forward to all that lovely sunshine now that the storm is blowing through.
Crabby poems have a place, too. They reflect reality just as surely as peppy ones.
Today is Thursday – Viv I hope that by now all the negative weather has passed you by and that is is a beautiful almost summer time for you.
Kind Marjory, No. It is blowing a gale.
In the Midst of Pomp
In the midst of pomp
there is very little left
to circumstance.
Inhale a deep breath
of the strong wind
that is blowing in your face.
How about a little less flash
and a bit more substance?
By Michael Grove
Oh, yes…nice, Michael! 🙂
So appropriate for this graduation weekend.
Yes… “Inhale a deep breath…”
Isn’t the what pomp is all about; showing the illusion so that the viewer doesn’t realize there’s something underneath?
You’ve asked some good questions, Mike. And done it very well, I might add. I thoroughly enjoyed this. And I agree. A little less time on illusion and more on substance.
Oh yes! appropriate to the time & place — for sure! :-))
Michael – very well (and timely) put.
Meg, lovely… Walt, please have great fun wherever you fly off to! Happy Sunday :)!
~Another Rainy Day Lament~
It won’t be long before sun’s golden song
will sanctify and saturate the air again.
I feel the time is approaching,
swift slivers of fragile filaments
will sift through the ethereal;
but for now the matter is gray,
the mind is abated by the constancy
of this perpetual plinking on window pane.
I take heart; I rally and rejoice for nature,
peace is found when looking to ground.
I’m assuming the attitude of rot-resistant alders,
damp and soggy, foggy is their norm;
they embrace the storm with telling twiggy arms.
©Hannah Gosselin 6/2/12
“I take heart; I rally and rejoice for nature,
peace is found when looking to ground.”
Great lines and mental imagery, Hannah. A pleasure to return to after my unintended sabbatical!
I’m glad you enjoyed those, mike and welcome back! 🙂
You have given me reason to rejoice on gloomy days, Hannah. I love the rhythm and pattern of this piece!
Thank you, Linda!!
Like those “fragile filaments” Hannah!
Thanks so much, Patricia!
Oh, Hannah, you have captured the gloom, and then… the beautiful solution! 🙂 !
Thank you, so much, Hen!! 🙂
.You mave added a rainbow to the gloom
So sweet, thank you, Marjory!!
!! 🙂 !!
“Swift slivers of fragile filaments” – Only you could write this!
Thank you, Sara!! So sweet of you! 🙂
What a peaceful poem! Lovely Hannah. 😉
Thank you, Michelle, I appreciate that!! 🙂
Fine work, here, Hannah.
I feel the time is approaching,
swift slivers of fragile filaments
will sift through the ethereal;
Such wonderful alliteration and flow with images that move, one to the next like a slideshow.
I’m assuming the attitude of rot-resistant alders,
damp and soggy, foggy is their norm;
they embrace the storm with telling twiggy arms.
Here, too, the images move and sway with the flow of the words.
Exquisite.
Wow, thank you So much, Clauds! I’m so glad you enjoyed this one! 🙂
You’re welcome. It’s all true. There was something different about this one that got under my skin.
Hmm…I really like this, Clauds because when I wrote it it felt different under my skin, too. You’re so perceptive. Thank you my friend!
I’m firing on all cylinders this morning, Hannah. Take advantage of it while it lasts.
:)!! That is always such an amazing feeling! Cheers to clarity, Clauds! 🙂
Thanks. I need all the clarity I can find most days.
Me too, it comes and goes for sure. 🙂
Ahhh… plenty of rainy day lamenting here too! Will this wet stuff ever end? Nicely captured, Hannah! 🙂
Thank you, Pamela!! 🙂
Snap, Crackle
It’s in the air
like lightning ready to flash,
Pressure
Tension
Stress.
But I’m going to think
Butterflies
Gurgling creeks
Laughter.
For what else can I do
when writing deadline
and first day of summer vacation
are in five days?
Nice! Good luck, you’ll do great Connie and good way to turn around the tension!
Thanks Hannah. I’m trying not to become overwhelmed at this point. Our vacation is our family reunion that I’m organizing. And I have a lot of research to do for my articles that I’ll have to get done the day before we leave. So if you think of me pray, please. 🙂
Like a mantra, butterflies, butterflies, butterflies, Connie!
🙂 People might think I’m bats, bats, bats!
Absolutely, Connie, prayers will be sent for you! 🙂
We posted at the same time, Hannah, looks funny in that order. 🙂
Go Connie! You amaze me!
meg
“Pressure
Tension
Stress.
But I’m going to think
Butterflies”
If only I could write this on the back of my hand and remember it all the time!
Thanks for your comment, Mike
Keep your positive attitude, Connie. It is the best way to face any challenge. Your poem says it all.
Reminds me of the little train going up the hill and I am sure that, “You can do it, You can do it, YOUCAN DO IT.”
I think I can, I think I can
Thanks
“But I’m going to think Butterflies Gurgling creeks Laughter.” I want to remember these words at stressful times; thank you!
🙂
Beautiful in it’s simplicity Connie! I know you can do it! And what a great reward after you meet your deadline! 🙂
Good question, Connie. And good luck on that vacation.
Lovely poem about exigencies.
Oh yes — knowing exactly what that feels like! Best of luck! Think butterflies, indeed! Love that! :-))
Butterflies, butterflies, butterflies
I got two interviews with psychologists. One rough draft done, two more to go. I have all day tomorrow to write and Thursday to shop and pack.
Thank you all for your kind words, prayers and support.
YOU DID IT – now (butter)fly away and have a beautiful vacation. Anything not done – just can stay undone. You did what you could. Have a great time.
[…] the Poetic Bloomings ‘In the air tonight’ prompt and the ‘fickle’ prompt from One Single […]
CHANGE
Her fickle affections changed
with the wind —
a fact I knew, a risk
I was willing to take —
and I could smell
rain.
She lifted her face
to embrace
the breeze.
Matches the theme so well!
Beautiful…!
Lovely, Mark.
Sweet! I like this simple/complex piece, Mark! 🙂
She lifted her face
to embrace
the breeze.
Oh yes, I have always enjoyed the wind and rain – easy for me to unbderstand that statement.
Got a case of numb brain, so I stole some words from the prompt and from M.E. and Walt and pretty much made a mess
Poor Beast
is up in the air tonight,
in the aetherous realms,
and the ruby
the apple, the carmine core
the heart of the beast is home, back home
The heart is alone in Tennessee and wishes
Great Beast-God of air and beasts and hearts
put one and one together, make one. I wish
for a flock of silent wings to fly me home
beast to heart and heart to beast, tearful
to bleeding and beating to hearing.
But all the ominous world
holds back its signs
and the heart hears only its pulsing
and the beast its own susurrant breath,
the whisper of its breathing.
Where in the noise of the planet
where is the song to lift the beast home?
To teach the heart to ascend and escape,
what spell would qualify?
Wish I could do as well writing with a numb brain!
🙂
Hear, hear!!
meg
“I wish
for a flock of silent wings to fly me home
beast to heart and heart to beast, tearful
to bleeding and beating to hearing.”
I like how this part makes me feel…enjoyed this poem, Barbara!
Oh, my, Barbara. I think I have just the market for this one, my friend. Seriously. This reads very avant-garde and modern. I actually enjoyed this very much. It has a hypnotic rhythm to it for me since it has little punctuation.
Good job.
Thanks, Claudsy
Marie Elena, Walt–thanks for the invite! Perfect prompt for a poem.
INVITATION!
the screen door slams
as I step out onto the front porch
lavender lingers in the air tonight
fills my lungs with precious pause
spritely sprigs of white and pink and mauve
replenished with today’s June showers
emit their secret scent to the night air
smile as they line the flagstone walkway and
border the garden
filled with white daisies and pink roses
that renew my spirit each year
on every summer’s day
now, after midnight
the moon hides from me
in a black cloud-filled sky
but I am reassured
as I breathe in the sweet mist of lavender
that lingers in the air tonight
Hummmm – I can smell the lindering lavender.
Maybe ‘lingering’ would work better. 🙂
thanks, Marjory!
Mmm… me too!
Such a floral scented haven! Lovely, Patricia!!
Thanks, Hannah!
The lavender got me, of course. No not just that it is a variation of purple, but lavender grows in my yard and the scent is heavenly.
It is the scent so sweet, after a rainfall, that captures me!
Each summer, I pick a stem or two to put inside my summer reads. Later, when I reopen the book, I am greeted with this lavender scent from the pressed flower. You might like to give it a try.:)
I’m on it!
Really like this one, Patricia. It reminded me of the back steps of my maternal grandmother’s house. She always had a large moon-flower vine growing beside the door. It lent it’s fragrance to the air until sunrise when it’s petals closed for another day.
Thank you for reminding me also of the lavender farms on the Peninsula. They’re my favorite stop when I’m there.
Thanks, claudsy! Glad it brought back a memory for you. How great that you can stop by fields of lavender!
I’ll post a pick for you that shows their fall splendor, Patricia.
Mmmm enjoying the scents wafting in the air here! 🙂
thanks, Pam!
Two Bright Windows, Another Usually Shut
You can never have too many open windows.
I have not given enough to the air lately,
not a drop of poetry, hardly any voice particles,
not even the time of day or night.
Whenever I don’t feed the air poetry
Calliope pulls it out of my nose with catastrophes
or awards other pieces of me to the universe
until I take notice.
Poof! Gone your peace of mind.
Whoosh goes another friend.
A poet must never give 100% to anything
and must come to realize that 100% of everything is poetry.
See: William Carlos Williams.
Hear: Dali savouring his mistakes, being born on a horrible stormy day.
Some days you see a dozen people carrying surfboards
but of course the surfboards aren’t just creative flotation devices,
they mean something else and it’s your job to figure out what.
Else returns the daughter of Zeus to taketh away some more stuff.
Else she shows you something beautiful
about your life on her tablet
and then makes you watch as she eats the pages.
“…they mean something else and it’s your job to figure out what.” Yes, the fun part!
I like this, especially your ending, mike!! Yes, I agree, everything is 100% poetry! 🙂
Welcome home, Mike!!! 😀
Marie Elena
Thanks, Marie! A certainly unintended absence, mostly for good reasons though. I can only go so long without poetry and Poetic Bloomings, though! 🙂
Mike, that was something! It sounds like you’ve been having issues lately with both Muse and the world at large.
Fear not, you’ve captured words that flow, show, and festoon balconies with garlands of anticipated wonders. Would that Calliope could pause in her meal to realize those pages were filled with words written in invisible ink for they had yet to flow from the pen and had made do with the inside of your mind.
Good job.
Thanks! And yes to all of the above. But it is always nice to have places like this to return to.
It seems restful when one comes away from those hustled territories, doesn’t it?
Ouch! Isn’t that the truth?! Well done, Mike!
hummingbirds
at morning glories-
instant joy
Yes, reminds me of early, springtime mornings in Tucson, AZ, along with the fragrance of citrus blossoms.
Very nice, love when hummingbirds grace the air!
Such soft beautiful image.
Yes, they are. Whether alone or in pairs, their wings distribute smiles to one and all.
Can’t not smile over hummingbirds — instant joy, indeed! 🙂
CHANGE
It is in the air.
Fear follows
not knowing
what is next.
It is in the air,
but hope rises..
It could always
be better.
Change has claws,
and teeth,
and a smile,
and muscles.
It can be creative
or destructive.
It is our choice
how we use it.
Nicely stated truth.
“It can be creative…” yes.
Fear of the unknown can be paralyzing…creative to state change as you did, Linda!
What truth in this Linda.
Indeed. Good one, Linda, this reminder of the power we hold over how we approach this life.
agree!
Inhaling You (A Triolet)
Your fragrance entices me
I breathe in each molecule
Ephemeral scent of thee
Your fragrance entices me
I inhale you religiously
Essence not miniscule
Your fragrance entices me
I breathe in each molecule
I just Love to inhale special people…! 🙂 !
I agree! 🙂
I have three little ones that always smell like cookies and candy (they Love their sweets!) Sooo precious!!! 🙂 ! :)! :)!
Excellent use of the form.
Lovely, Iris. This has the feel of centuries past, warm and mysterious at the same time.
Dandelions
Summer offers
her warming light
so playful children
can butter their chins.
Finally going to seed
it takes only a puff of air
to tear them limb from limb
and send them flying.
Each little fluff
flies to a tender place
that welcomes it
and lets it grow.
And dandelions, too,
want nothing more
than the wind to lift them
and carry them home.
They are such a large family
and the whole world seems to be there home.
“..so playful children can butter their chins.” Sooo sweet!
I love to watch dandelion seeds on the wind! Nice one, Patricia!
Sweet, Patricia! I especially like the last stanza. 🙂
So sweet a poem on those little yellow delights!
Grandmother’s garden rests at eventide
Soft is the air which strikes my brow tonight
The moon has swung her silver scythe and disappeared.
The stars have gathered close and now have neared
The horizon’s edge and merged within the dying light.
These scents of early summer the breeze unfolds
Sweet clover hovers close upon the still warm air
Tangled honeysuckle spreads her honey without a care
The garden heavy with perfume from the blooming rose.
Summer’s sweetness overwhelms my brain
Do I sigh from beauty or from pain?
“The moon has swung her silver scythe…” One of the most unique phrases I have ever read — love it!
How visual!
So true, Marian, painful beauty! I agree with, Hen, I also enjoy the line she mentioned!
“The moon has swung her silver scythe”- Just beautiful, Marian.
floating like bubbles
across the spring horizon
dandelion seeds
Oooh, I can just see them!
Air, Apparent
Breath of Heaven,
how can I forget
I am your child?
Heir to all
bruised by fall
scattered small piece
of your very self.
Inhaled, now whole
I sooth my soul with
loose dandelion wish fluff
and the stronger stuff
of shrinking garden
dreams.
Wooed by crimson leaf kites
and moon spilled nights
and tickle of butterfly wing,
these lungs long
to sing your song,
heart aches
of space
only you can fill;
will breaks,
grace spilled.
Great one Whimsey.
“heart aches
of space
only you can fill;
will breaks,
grace spilled.”
Oh, of the filling…so beautiful, De!
I can bathe in that moon spilled night. lovely.
[…] for Poetic Bloomings. Share this:EmailFacebookLinkedInTwitterLike this:LikeBe the first to like this post. This entry […]
Only a Sigh
The dark summer night
hid their desire
till the stars came out
and kissed their skin.
Her breath came slowly
only a sigh
but he inhaled it
till it filled his soul.
The rhythm of the night
lulled her to sleep
and he blew out the stars
with only a sigh.
Soft and beautiful.
A warm fuzzy
Oooo. Patricia, I love “blow out the stars/with only a sigh.”
So lovely.
I agree!! Such a great ending!
LOVED: “…and he blew out the stars with only a sigh.” Sooo dreamy!
Dreamy is the word to describe this little poem!
Oh yes, such a sweet ending — lovely. 🙂
A Dodoitus – in ‘honor’ of the local dairy farmers’ spring chore.
HONEY POTS
Winter honey pots are capped
Fermenting and slow growing
Spring the farmer fills his truck
Spreading ‘honeyed’ air.
My hubbie says that ‘city folk’ may not know what ‘honey pots’ are and so not ‘appreciate’ the honeyed air. The honey pots are the solid piles of ‘piles’ or the lagoones at dairy farms. The resulting manuer is spread in the fields in the spring and provides a distintive ‘honey smell’ the region.
Oh yes…. I-5, from Sacramento to Stockton, CA!
LOL I recall that ‘honeyed scent’! :-))
HAHAHA! Oh, Marjory … your poem brings back a family memory! My big sister started an all-girl rock band when she was in high school (she graduated in 1972). They wanted a great name, and were having trouble coming up with anything they could all agree on. Then my mischievous dad suggested “The Honey Dippers.” LOL! They didn’t have a clue what it really refers to, and just fell in love with the name! If memory serves, Dad didn’t let them go tooooo long before telling them what it means. 😀 Great poem, and thanks for the memory!
meg
New form for me today.
Spheres
Balloons always rise,
Balancing on Heaven’s air.
Bubbles float across assumed
Boundaries, delicate memories of
Time spent in children’s smallest joys.
Bouncing brings on admonitions,
Balls thrown for hours of fun,
Battering the outside walls.
Brave roundness seeks
-Shapes-
Okay, peeps, everywhere else this is a circle. Use your imagination. Sorry, Walt. I just can make shapes remain in format when bringing them over here.
I will visualize and can ‘see’ your circle.
I would also like to know how to hold a shape poem.
Walt – I remember you giving the clues once – but can not find
where you posted it.
Marjory, The spaces required have to be “inserted” as characters. Each space is keyed as ALT+0160. You manipulate the words into the shape you want with these spaces.
keyed together? Hummmmm
I can do it – I can do it.
Have to practice.
Thank Walt
(Love challenges like this! 🙂 )
So
Will
We do
Or not
Do
this
shaped
Not so far! ..
maybe when
I post
😦 Back to the
drawing
board!
spaces required have to be “inserted” as characters. Each space is keyed as ALT+0160. You manipulate the words into the shape you want with thes spaces.
(inserted.)…..keyed ALT+0160 insert
row 1
row 2
Keep ALT DOWN (type the +) then type the numbers, then hit insert …. ???
I’m so glad you know what you’re saying, Walt. I’ll have to really think about this before trying again. It’s the time factor as much as anything. I will try soon, though. Thanks, my friend.
So fun to play with shape…this is a perfectly buoyant poem for a circular shape, Clauds! 🙂
Thanks, Hannah. I always new how difficult these concrete poems were, but it’s not the writing, it the formatting that’s a killer.
I’m glad you liked it.
I got so caught up in the technical comments that I forgot to say how this so wonderfully reminds of my little ones having fun with circles and spheres! 🙂 !
Glad that you enjoyed it so much, Hen. That makes my day.
!!! 🙂 🙂 🙂 !!!
claudsy – I hope you have another go at you circle. love to see it. I have not been sucessful so far with shapes, but will try again. Figure that I have to post a try before I know it it will work. I am working on a ‘mini-circle’ 🙂
Thanks, Marjory. I haven’t had time to try for it again. I keep telling myself, soon, soon. I’m glad I’m not the only one who doesn’t get it.
Forget the shapes; the poem is brilliant.
Thanks so much. I’m glad you liked it.
I can see them Claudsy — floating on the breeze! :-))
Thanks, Pamela. I love to watch balloons rise on a summer’s day. But on a winter’s day the sight is marvelous and uplifting.
Second for the day.
Gravity
It fell, Prickly cone,
Dented head.
Left for dead,
Stunned instead.
On my own,
Ten pound cone
Rolled away,
Spilling seeds.
Foot traffic
Beware what’s
Up in the air.
Enjoy!
Your choice of words made me laugh, Clauds, tho I am so thankful that you lived to tell about it — Ow–ie!!
I read that in some areas, signs warn a person to wear a hardhat while in the area of these trees. Imagine the first time someone comes across one of these signs. Do you really think the sign will be believed?
Glad you liked it, Hen.
Yes, I doubt many would take heed!
LOL Have had that experience with acorns — and sworn there were squirrels up in the trees taking target practice! :-))
LOL!
I know that feeling and that paranoia. Those little buggers are vicious sometimes, especially with a target.
After Rain
The rain has gone,
sun jeweling grass
and leaves, sky
filled with songbird
thanks, hummer
happiness, insect,
squirrel, and tree frog
voices relishing fresh life
dripping from trees,
soaking into earth,
the tail of a breeze
stirring sweet
rain-washed breath,
the air filled
to overflowing
with blue.
Oh, that is a beautiful picture.
“sun jeweling grass”
Such a beautiful glimpse, Jane! I love the sparkle of this line!
Oh, beautiful!
Oh — agreed! Lovely images! I particularly like “the air filled to overflowing with blue.” Nice! 🙂
Thanks to you all for comments!
And now for something completely different 🙂
Primetime
By: Meena Rose
I will tell you alright
What’s up in the air tonight;
We have to end this fight.
The mortals quiver and quail
With each blow, without fail;
This violence we must curtail.
Uriyah – vale the deadly bolt,
I tell you, they will revolt;
Withdrawn beliefs, a primary jolt.
http://2voices1song.wordpress.com/2012/06/03/to-air-is-human-not-just-for-the-gods/
Powerful poem, Meena.
Thank you!
Electrifying
The heat evaporates in ten seconds flat
as the cold front slams into the sun’s dying rays
and they are swallowed by the roiling, dark gray beast
of an early evening thunderstorm.
The hairs on my arms stand at attention
even while my body is rocked by the wind
and the deepest bass drum beats grow louder,
riding the dark, gray waves of the approaching apex.
Then the drum beats reach a crescendo,
over and over again, and the strings hiss
and crack like a whip with white light
and I, I revel at the concert before me.
Note: There is a picture to accompany my poem, you can see it on my blog (which I posted a bit early), as I used PB’s prompt for my blog post for June 4, 2012. Thanks!
Oh, you so captured it — Love the pic, too!
What is that? What’s
in the air tonight?
I am high on
it, on
whatever
that is in the air.
Tell me what it is, please.
Must be summer is finally coming.
Scent of Summer Evening
In a far corner of the yard,
hinoki tree trembles, twists,
and bows politely, pushed
by a swift breeze picking up
speed, puffing gusts that riffle
burgundy feathers
of the Japanese maple,
which responds, in turn,
with an impromptu hula.
Chimes clang as crazed
clocks, losing all sense
of time. Dog nails tap
on the glass back door,
feeling a fist about to open
and dowse them like a child
tossing a water balloon
off a rooftop. In that one
special moment before
silver falls from the sky,
there is a scent of cut grass
mixed with basil freshly potted.
I loved: “…In that one special moment before silver falls from the sky,….” and then the fragrance which follows. Beautiful, Sara!
Thanks, Hen!
this is as good as anything which ha come from your heart…thank you for sharing it
Thanks for reading it!
“hinoki tree trembles, twists,
and bows politely, pushed
by a swift breeze picking up”
I love this image, Sara and the scent lingering in your last two lines…two such distinct and lovely smells!! 🙂
What is a hinoki tree Sara? Sounds enchanting
It is a cedar tree with feathery leaves, tall and thin. It is enchanting.
Thanks, Hannah!
You’re welcome!! 🙂
“In the air tonight”
The days are a feast; the nights are a fest
of open roads that bridge a shallow past.
Locusts strum a metered dose of peaceful
midnight songs on a breeze of tenderness.
I step steady on stony plateaus blessed
with breath of spirit and breath of beauty
in the night air, a fusion of life where
the days are a feast; the nights are a fest.
I confess, I behave like an honored guest
among night creatures who travel by star-
light and invite me to harmonize with
midnight songs on a breeze of tenderness.
The days are a feast; the nights are a fest.
The air wakes the deep and I sleep singing
midnight songs on a breeze of tenderness.
(This is a Villonnet.
It is a hybrid of the Villanelle and the Sonnet.)
Loved: “…and I sleep singing midnight songs on a breeze of tenderness.”
Thank you, Hen.
Wow! Stunning poem, and I am intrigued by this form.
I had a good time with this form. I’d never heard of it before.
I could not help posting this poem as I was thinking abut God thinking of me all of these years. I wrote it a while ago, but I liked it when I found it a few hours ago, and so it is what is in my air tonight. BTW–I love your example poems.
Lovely, Susan!
All leading to this minute!
“there is a scent of cut grass
mixed with basil freshly potted”
YES!
What a wonderful combination of air.
Thanks, Susan.
[…] Poetic Bloomings, to the prompt, “In the air.” Also at my poetic playground, Poets United. This new neighborhood […]
Late but worth the time… busy weekend, and a lovely time in our condo “neighborhood” back yard…
BACK YARD EVENING
Step out our sliding back door
and step into a condo-life miracle.
A huge yard, formed by buildings
on every side, protected play space.
Little Graham next door draws
on the back stoop: smell the chalk.
(Oops! He also needs a change,
says my keen mommy’s nose.)
His Dad drills heavenly brats and
neighbor Diane drools, “I’ll take three.”
We sit in lawn chairs, share local
beers; a whiff of malt wafts on the breeze.
Freshly mown grass, green aroma
mingling with fading lilacs.
And now Jean’s baked muffins add
a gentle vanilla to the other scents.
One perfect June evening… with
our neighborhood potpourri.
© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
(See with an image at my blog, http://sharplittlepencil.com/2012/06/04/backyard-evening-poetic-bloomings/)
For Poetic Bloomings, to the prompt, “In the air.” Also at my poetic playground, Poets United. This new neighborhood has brought back some wonderful memories, especially the yard – it’s patrolled by every stay-at-home parent and home-office resident. We have all planted gardens to our own taste, and it’s burgeoning blooms here in Madison… Peace, Amy
Just WONDERFUL!!!
Muffin, please.
Mmmm… smells lovely — except for Little Graham! Thanks for inviting us to the party, Amy! :-))
Just yesterday, I was was telling my sweetie how, even though we live in the best place I could imagine, I still dream of spending a summer in Mad-town…you capture part of its essence so nicely
Home is where the heart is,
sounds (smells) like you have found a heart-filled place.
a haiku about life being found in the air…
in the beginning
man was formed from dust – life came
with the breath of God
YES 🙂
Oooh, perfect.
I’m On Hiatus
Through the atmosphere
somewhere between Indus and Orion
Boötes manages the herd led by
Apus, Pegasus, and Monoceros
when Pavo isn’t showing off
The Hunting Dogs are kept on tight leash
lest The Greater Dog outdo The Lesser Dog
or worse, The Arrow from Sagittarius find it’s mark
I seek the unseekable
I crave the unknowable
I reach for the unreachable
I dream the undreamable
I call the Milky Way
hearth and home
just a side street
off the road
of the Gods
&
The Constellations are just
mere lawn ornaments
in my front yard
~ Randy Bell ~
…..right there with ya!
As ever, beautiful writing, Randy.
Ahhh, yes — I DO love those lawn ornaments! 🙂
Air Time
In the yard the scent of French lilac flits
Does battle with fresh-mowed lawns
And dandelions, both yellow and those eager
To go to seed early, all aromas combining
To announce spring departing and summer
Ready to waltz in on a whim or the west wind
There’s excitement in the air, the end-of-school
Breathlessness carried on the shrieks of kids
Calling to each other overjoyed and eager
For summer vacation to start right now, now, now
And the adults too find themselves antsy
Combing through travel brochures, perusing
Seat sales and hotel room specials hoping to find
That particular place that will solve their heart’s
Desire … if only they can decide just what that is
S.E.Ingraham©
Love it….. happy travellin’!
Ahhh, that anticipation of summer in the air — there’s nothing like it! 🙂
[…] IN THE AIR TONIGHT – PROMPT #58 […]
The brightest planet, Venus, is due to pass right in front of the sun, to stage one of the rarest of predictable astronomical phenomena: a transit of Venus across the sun’s face. This upcoming transit of Venus will be the last one for the 21st century. It will take place across a period of nearly seven hours on June 5-6, 2012. During the transit, Venus will appear in silhouette as a small, dark dot moving in front of the solar disk. This exceedingly rare astronomical event – a transit of Venus – won’t happen again until December 11, 2117.
(cinquain: 2,4,6,8,2)
“Something’s in the Air”
Venus
cavorts the air.
Flaunts herself in his face.
Heroine, we track her teasing
the sun.
Hope to catch this!
Did you!?
Oh my goodness, NO, I “lost a day”! 😦 !
:9
That was suppose to be ;(
iLove You
love is in the air ~
I wonder: does that leave
cyberspace connections
with no strings attached?
2012-06-04
P. Wanken
WiFi iLove? What will they think of next?
Reminds me of the man who sat all day long in the local McDonald’s, day after day…when someone finally asked what he was doing, they learned he was waiting. He wasn’t waiting for his fries. No. He had been single long enough, he was waiting for a wife-y! When he saw the puzzled look, he pointed at the sign on the door: Free WiFi.
ahahahaha … I love it!
😉
LOL!!! :)!!!
Only you, Paula! :-))
Fun… 😉
[…] same prompt. Poetic Bloomings prompt #58 was to write an “In The Air Tonight” prompt (click here to read the whole […]
HAY(NA)KU
Air
Abounds with
Promises of spring
Sweet
Fragrances of
Fresh cut grass
As
Honey bees
Kiss the flowers
A
Soft breeze
Cools the air
Showers
Settle dust
Refreshing the day
While
Clouds drift
Through blue sky
Salad,
melons, berries,
baked beans, cakes
Mingle
With essence
drifting from Bar-BQ
Serenity
Sits with
Seniors in shade
As
Youthful musicians
Strum quiet tunes
Laughter
Floats from
Children at play
Dust
Swirls behind
Small racing feet.
Marjory, you have captured the smell, sights, and sounds of summer in the air. A refreshing poem!!
Iris
Yes, a lovely summer picnic…. I just love: “…Serenity Sits with Seniors in shade…” !
Thank you both – I really like this prompt.
and I best identify with those in the shade 🙂
Missing the Wonders
While I slept, meteors zipped across the sky
like fireworks set by dozens of small boys,
and only later did I learn that I’d missed
the transit of Venus, not to recur again
for at least a century. I set the clock
and rise the find that clouds obscure
the lunar eclipse. The giant moon slid
up the horizon without my witness.
I wish for wonders in the heavens,
one-in-a-lifetime alignment, mystery
or portent, science or mysticism,
but my timing’s always off. Star shine
and shadow, the heaven’s showing off
and I’m not there for the punch line.
Had I been a wise man or shepherd,
I might have heard too late, arrived
in Bethlehem only to learn the babe
has fled to Egypt and to wonder
at the wailing
in the streets of Judea.
I’m right there with you Nancy! 😐
Sorry you missed this ‘show’ – you are in the world’s majority!!
I missed it too. BUT I really do like your poem. 🙂
I think “Missing the Wonders” is a wonder of a poem! I just love the whole thing! especially the last stanza.
oops– I rise to find…
Rough night last night — for some reason, sleep was difficult to capture. Other than the moonlight sneaking past the clouds to wake me in the wee hours (which I wrote about for the alliterisen prompt), the only thing “in the air” was the chiming of clocks… hour after hour after hour, so…
Walt, this one’s for you. I feel your pain. 😐
And I’m not even gonna TRY to format it. Use your imagination, and center it on the page. :-] G’night!
Insomnia
Midnight knelled before bed was attempted.
One whanged (seeming) hours later,
Two ticking off after that.
Three thrust itself in,
Four fretted fitfully,
Five waxing frantic.
Finally seduced
by fickle slumber
at 6:30,
then,
Seven
buzzed in
all too soon.
If I ever figure out how to “Shape” … I think your poem could be shaped to be called something like “Cheers” 🙂
Bummer of a night , but great poem.
I hope you have a better go at sleeping tonight (or last night when you read this) 🙂
Thank you, Marjory! I’m hoping for a better night too! 🙂
Was working on an ALOUETTE then realized that I had not followed the right meter rule — It should be 5-5-7-5-5-7 I put an extra 7 in there 😦 as shown in the (…) – Hate to dump them after the work of getting them figured out! You may read with or without the (…) 😉 or it could be a new form called ALOUTTE plus ONE. 🙂
Moving in the air
Pushed by currents there
Is a big, bright dancing kit
—– -(In its solitary flight)
Swirling and dipping
With red tail chasing
Tethered by a string held tight.
As a child watches
Under kit he marches
—–(Tiny body keeping stride)
As in his mind he can ride
That red tail’s wild churn
Bob, dip, wayward turn
That he mimes with jumps and slide
Hee, hee, WAY TO GO! Unique, new creation! Aww, and loved the poem’s happiness!
Memories in the Breeze
Sitting at the ball field,
memories waft through the air.
Fries with vinegar,
infield dust,
fresh cut grass,
pre-teen sweat and
doggie doo.
But today as I sit
just past the outfield fence;
I get a whiff of
Irish Spring soap.
Now, I am truly back
in left center on the
Ashton avenue fields
forty years ago!
© KED 2012
Love that Irish Spring soap! 🙂
Nuʻuanu Pali and the Trade Winds
You catch your breath
before it blows away.
You hold it tight;
you cannot breathe.
Nature is in the air.
Such views that
soar on high,
on winds that
take your breath away.
Nuʻuanu Pali.
Those cliffs so high,
so sheer
so steep,
siphoning air
from moist valleys below.
Air swept up to ledges
and deep ravines
of lushly dressed mountains
in tropical green attire.
Nature is in the air.
Lift your arms,
lift your chin,
lift your spirits
and soar with the wind
that frees your soul
to weightlessness
and clears your mind
of mere and meagre
worldly worries.
Nature is in the air.
there’s info here about Nu’uanu Pali on O’ahu
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nu%E2%80%98uanu_Pali
I also posted some photos at http://miskmask.wordpress.com/2012/06/07/nu%ca%bbuanu-pali-and-the-trade-winds/ to go with the poem.
Lovely words… beautiful and precious photos! Thank you!
[…] info on Nu’uanu Pali on O’ahu Poetic Bloomings Prompt #58, In The Air Rate this:Share this:TwitterFacebookLinkedInPinterestEmailLike this:LikeBe the first to like this […]
Waiting
I’m waiting for you
a thousand miles from New York
my hand caressing
the phone, fresh sheets on the bed,
your words charging the night air.
Sunshine (a Shakespearean sonnet)
I look above, into the sun,
And squinting, feel the rays
As one by one they shine and come
To earth to warm our days.
Without this radiant, golden orb –
I shudder just to think –
We’d have no sunshine to absorb,
And shivering, shrivel and shrink.
I look above, and in great awe
Gaze up towards the skies.
My wonder is anew, and raw.
It comes in grateful cries
To the One who put the orb in place
To shine this warmth upon my face.
Those last two lines…. Beautiful!
Thanks!
Thank You, that is so beautifully put.
[…] is in the air over at Poetic Bloomings. Visit to read what our hosts say and to read their poems in response to the prompt. Marie Elena […]
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