imagery

All posts tagged imagery

In Innocence

Published April 29, 2017 by kdorholt

She romps along the furrows
in midst of meadow’s blooming
unencumbered by
random ruts and roots,
as if her toes have been
taught by lambs
how to prance in play.

Trilling, true giggles,
as easy and real
as raindrops in
a soothing summer shower,
mark her heart’s merriment
matching each felicitous footfall.

The flowers she caresses
bounce in willing harmony
to her body’s beat.
Colorful consorts to her
comfortable vulnerability.
Exclamations of unwavering joy
and guileless understanding.

See the emboldened sun
beat brighter at her
pure presence!
Hear the birds sing
this moment in the making
and its worth to the world!

Easter Nocturne

Published April 17, 2017 by kdorholt

It’s a Peter Pan
moon and clouds tonight,
the breeze a sweet-tempered sigh.
The soft sound of fairies’ wings
flutters faintly from
birch tree leaves above,
inviting thanksgiving,
comfort and wonder.

I accept the mellow mood
it makes in me
as song to my  soul–
the music of slumbering moments
replacing the vigorous living
of this most hopeful holiday–
and let memories linger
awhile with the moon
and  breeze and fairies’ wings.

We compose a prayer
of gratitude for this day’s gifts
and a benediction for tomorrow.

The Magic Touch

Published April 15, 2017 by kdorholt

In the middle of April
In “the North”
Crocuses and daffodils–
Confetti-like pops of color
In somewhat frozen fields of
Still-dead-brown fallen leaves–
Appear unannounced
All willy nilly
As if a whimsical wizard
Blithely skipped through
Touching his wand
To the ground
At promiscuous intervals
To surprise us from
Our end-of-winter gloom
“Feel the magic!”
“Enjoy the show!”
They tease our
Slumbering souls
And besotted by
Bits of beauty
We begin to
Peek through, too!

I Remember Grandma

Published April 29, 2016 by kdorholt

I remember Grandma Karason,
a most loving soul,
the first person I ever knew who went to Heaven,
I remember that I’ve never grown comfortable with her leaving so suddenly
without a final good bye
I remember walking up the gray front-porch steps on Long Street
how she stood at her screen door
how the tears sparkled in her eyes like bits of magic
when she greeted us hello or wished us good bye
I remember her short, stout arms, made strong and sure by years of taxing labor,
reaching out to us in joy and comfort
and her songlike voice caressing us with her immigrant Hungarian tongue:
“Lány” for me     “Fiú” for my brothers–
special words bestowed like papal blessings
I remember the look she gave my father,
(head always cocked delicately to one side)
like he was an answer to a special prayer
I remember her hugs that always carried a bit of her kitchen when she drew us close

I remember that kitchen–like no other anywhere on my earth–
her kingdom–where she cooked and baked us Hungarian dishes
I was sure were really meant as gifts for the angels
I remember her working the retes dough until it looked as thin and lithe as linen                 and her carefully forming it into a dough tablecloth
before she’d cut it up for strudel
I remember poppy seeds and front-yard cherries
chicken paprikash and stuffed cabbage
I remember a Singer treadle sewing machine,
its place by the wall at the entrance to her kitchen,
and watching her work fabric under the pressure foot as she pedaled
I remember how she’d purse her mouth so her lips disappeared
to make the material move just the way it needed to go
I remember her house was “the old country” dark and heavy
the sun only shining when she was in a room

I remember her waist-length, wavy salt and pepper hair
braided and coiled around the top of     her head
like a crown every day
and hair pins–loads and loads of hair pins
and the blue tin (with the silver butterfly on the lid) that she kept them in
I remember her sturdy, black, perforated Red Cross shoes
and stories about her father, the shoemaker
I remember the whispered secret that he died in Auschwitz for being Catholic, too
I remember the fragrance from the lily of the valley that ringed her house in the springtime and         permeated her home with its bloom
I remember a tipped navy blue hat on her head
with a bouquet of white fabric flowers pinned to the front
delicately dancing up and down in rhythm to her minuscule movements
I remember the dull, definite thud of her body whenever Grandpa pushed her
against the wall in anger and frustration
I remember her asleep in her (one comfortable) living-room chair,
her hands folded, remarkably at rest
the slip of a serene smile
and Hop-Along-Cassidy in the background

I remember the feeling of melancholy
and the importance of prayer,
family, good food, faith,
love, forgiveness, grace
and simple joy . . .

She would not want me to forget.

They Are the Sun and the Moon (a poem of twenty prompts NaPoWriMo 4/29/2014)

Published April 29, 2014 by kdorholt

The sun sets,
a dazzling diamond pull
on a window shade
introducing the moon
made of opal
and creamy pearls.
Listen closely!
Hear the crescendo
of their entrance
and departure!

Like Van Gogh
at Arles
a master at work
no, a clown at play
dabbing splotches
with his frigid finger
paints from Persia
in enticing letters
to lure Gauguin,

while the smell
of spring lingers
with laughter in
the succulent
Southern breeze.
Criminently!
If he wore
the scarlet sandal,
Gauguin would
surely rouse to

taste the magical
mystic mornings.
“The peepal leaves
are shaped
cordate,” he’ll
sing. Silken soft
butterflies of beauty!
“I’ll grow fleecy,
fledgling feathers
and fly to your

awaiting easel!”
In the sunset
remarkable rebirth.
All, including Gigi,
will giggle with
gladness at
the magnificent marvel.
Sugary cheese!
The simmering ganja
tea leaves reveal

the two now live
together in the
sultry sentient shadows.
The sun and the
moon dance!
Bold brilliance in
swirls of tangerine,
light lemon, sorbet
pink and the lasting
lilt of lavender.

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Words. On the Internet.

And perhaps some punctuation?

Here

Nowhere else

Theme Showcase

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The WordPress.com Blog

The latest news on WordPress.com and the WordPress community.

The Daily Post

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Salsachica's Ramblings

A place to share a chica's thoughts about food, life and music

Don Charisma

because anything is possible with Charisma

My Tangled Adventures

Chris Gerstner

Kathy Fish

my website and blog

Denzer Family Art

Sharing Our Art with the World

Lindsey Gendke

Writing to My Roots

Notes to Self

...because life is a beautiful mess

JUMP FOR JOY! Photo Project

Capturing the beauty of the human spirit -- in mid-air -- around the world

Martian

Truth is a pain to accept

The Blahgg Blog

life by design in a small and still charming town.

Stories in 5 Minutes

because short stories are fun to read.

Peace, Love and Patchouli

My life of words set free to be

Daily (w)rite

A DAILY RITUAL OF WRITING

Words. On the Internet.

And perhaps some punctuation?

Here

Nowhere else

Theme Showcase

Find the perfect theme for your blog.

The WordPress.com Blog

The latest news on WordPress.com and the WordPress community.

The Daily Post

The Art and Craft of Blogging

Salsachica's Ramblings

A place to share a chica's thoughts about food, life and music

Don Charisma

because anything is possible with Charisma