Carpe Diem Field of Flowers: Columbine

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they say columbine

is the flower for my state

I've never seen one

growing in the wild places

on the hills or in the plains

~Cie~

Ghost Town Grover and Cactus Clem wanted to share their poems too!

Please understand that they wouldn't know

A Haiku from the sole of their shoe

Visit the Artist

A Columbine Poem

by

Ghost Town Grover

I might of seen a columbine

When I was working in the mine

Trouble is, I wouldn't know

'Cause I wasn't looking for nothing except for gold!

Visit the Artist

Cactus Clem's Columbine Poem

I might like to see a columbine

But what I really like is to drink wine

I like some beer and whiskey too

But I don't never eat no stew

Eatin' isn't in my plan

But I gotta drink 'cause I'm a Cactus Man 

To follow the adventures of Grover, Cactus Clem, and their friends, and maybe even find some good stuff to buy and support the Grover Hotel renovations, please visit the Good Stuff From Grover blog!

Carpe Diem Field of Flowers: Milkweed

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I must remember

plant milkweed in my garden

for the butterflies

~Cie~

Carpe Diem Weekend Meditation #98: Choka: Angels and Birds in Flight

Image by Christine Sponchia from Pixabay

soar and drift away

spread your wings and float away

flutter high in air

lifting up for bird's eye view

glide on the current

take off and rise up so high

hover overhead

levitate, luff, and then dive

flap and float about the sky

~Cie~

Daily Prompts Tumblr

Carpe Diem Field of Flowers: Peony

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dainty peony

a garden's painted lady

makes a home for ants

dainty peony

ants climbing in the petals

seeking space to rest

a garden's painted lady

something from another time

and at once timeless

makes a home for ants

petals form a cozy bed

hidden from the sun

~Cie~

Carpe Diem Field of Flowers: Scarlet Pimpernel

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here and there I seek

but I'm not likely to find

this side of the pond

that certain scarlet-clad chap

frolicking in Yankee fields

~Cie~

Carpe Diem Field of Flowers: Honeysuckle

I can remember

the smell of honeysuckle

New Mexico night

~Cie~

Notes:

I recently completed and am about to submit my manuscript for the Insecure Writers' Support Group anthology contest. The genre is middle-grade historical fantasy/action.

I normally write for adults. I find writing for youth extremely challenging. I ended up opting to write a lightly fictionalized autobiography of myself between childhood and my pre-teen years which centered around my imagination and the fantastical fiction genres which inspired me. In writing about myself I ended up opening a lot of pockets of unresolved grief.

The place I lived between the ages of four and nine was a semi-rural pocket in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where people could have small farms and keep chickens and such. We had a very large yard, a half-acre. Unfortunately, the house was in rather a shoddy condition and cockroaches the size of school buses had a tendency to get inside. The bugs are huge in New Mexico, and I was not keen on that. But I did love the little skinks and horned toads and such. We also had many beautiful plants around such as the honeysuckle vines, and the cicadas would sing us to sleep.

I was a very shy child and did not have many friends. The characters I met in fantasy worlds were my friends, as were my pets and the animals in our yard.

Although I was born in the Western United States and raised in the Southwest for a number of years, my parents were both from New York. When certain relatives would visit, they would ridicule my accent. A New Mexico accent is a bit of an off-Texas drawl. To this day, I bristle whenever anyone askes the seemingly innocent question: "where are you from?" To me, that question is loaded.

Carpe Diem Field of Flowers: Yarrow

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like yellow yarrow

I am plain, scrubby, and rough

my beauty unseen

~Cie~