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Dec 2017 · 684
Past Present Future (10 W)
Tivonna Dec 2017
Past, present, and future
experienced as oneness in family's presence.
Dec 2017 · 684
Created Gardens (10 W)
Tivonna Dec 2017
Created gardens

specific to gardener,

their tools, elements, and season*.
Dec 2017 · 251
Words (10 W)
Tivonna Dec 2017
All words with its resonating energy,
affects vibrations of receiver.
Dec 2017 · 511
10 W
Tivonna Dec 2017
Waterfalls of cascading love
pool after cleansing;
~~a soaking reservoir*~~
Nov 2017 · 468
State of In-Between
Tivonna Nov 2017
Early morn between sleep,
Heart and Soul communicate,
mind does not exist.
Human problems looked upon
from higher perspective self

Cells resonate Love,
a chemistry of its own,
in garden of peace,
where Oneness is tree of strength
with sweet fruits to devour.

No problem prevails,
only calm seas in-between,
floating in Presence.
Higher state can be recalled,
as waters begin to swell

To ride coming wave,  
excluding the whole ocean,
floating in its lull;
*that same state of in-between,
filled with resonating Love.
Nov 2017 · 481
Slumbering Souls (10 W)
Tivonna Nov 2017
Slumbering Souls awake,
seeking early morning dawn
after night's hibernation.
Apr 2017 · 961
“It” Visits
Tivonna Apr 2017
No prior warnings,
it has come to visit me!
Minimal luggage,
travelling by expressways,
and greeting all fervently.

I'm to be its host
while it explores all of me,
filling its wants,
leaving me helplessly spent,
cough, cough, hold belly, cough, cough.

Fevered in its lust,
I succumb to ravaging,
held by its power,
with no strength to overcome,
hiding for comfort—cough, cough!

Its visit a mess!
A trail behind it does leave,
my space disarrayed,
imprinting all with its touch,
sore belly held to clean—cough!

This rare visit brings
no joy and puts life-on-hold,
changing its disguise
in hopes of finding new hosts;
open door policy?  Cough!

NaPoWriMo-Day 8
A repetition of word or phrase
Apr 2017 · 653
Tivonna Apr 2017
Washed upon the lake's shore,
gnarled driftwood looking wet,
showing wounds-of-time adrift.

Passionate love for craftsmen,
bringing out its beauty,
functional art it will be.

Picked up by a walker,
walking stick companion,
while manoeuvring terrain.

Dawg likes running and playing,
throw, run, fetch, and return,
wanting “good boy” with head pat.

Numerous lengthy pieces,
temporary shelter to build;
safety, shade, warmth, or home.

Sitting circular its' flames,    
pulled into hypnotic state,
calming effects absorbed.

Aromatic woodsy smell,
simple cottage, handy fuel,
chilly night's and breakfast morn.

Lighting indoor fireplace,
cozy atmosphere for all;
possible desire?

Looking at lake shore's driftwood,
never useless will it ever be,
seen as purpose for one in need.      

NaPoWriMo 2017  Day 6
To write a poem that looks at the same thing from various points of view.
Apr 2017 · 508
Invisible Forces
Tivonna Apr 2017
Today I feel it pulling me,
to be outside and feel so free
to dance or rake what entices,
instead of four walls and vices.

Fresh air instead of winter's sick air,
some freedom—desiring sun's glare
to swaddle me and being one
with invisible forces and blessed sun.

To feel some gradual new life,
energizing all that is right,  
Just to be—in so-called nothing,
knowing within there is something

Invisibly and colliding,
rainbow modicums increasing,
vivacity accelerating,
its affects on life astonishing!

NaPoWriMo 2017 Day 5
write a poem that is based in the natural world,
experienced often, and why meaningful.
Apr 2017 · 1.3k
Tivonna Apr 2017
Flickering in a dimly lit room
after instilling life into darkness,
timidly you dance.

In daylight you dance with finesse,
an exhibitionist with elongated flow,
your true darkness does prevail.

Your mood cycles with the moon,
as it shines filtered white into darkness,
creating an ominous eerie side.

I am part human when I dwell inside,
coming to life in darkness and partial light,
exposing all my shadows*.

NaPoWriMo 2017 Day 4
Write a poem with a secret – a word or idea or line
that it isn’t expressing directly. The poem should function as a sort of riddle.
Apr 2017 · 507
Garden Cemetery
Tivonna Apr 2017
My gardens do not flower;
               its cold and snow still melts.
I walk that path that brings joy;
               but plants don't look at me.
Old drying markers seen strewn;
               as headstones where they're placed.
Sun and some rain should bring life;
             eventual blossoms.
Some gentle winds for new strength;
               to assist in beauty.
My garden cemetery;
               soon dressed in leafy greens.
Bowing to life and at me;
               while walking passing by.

NaPoWriMo 2017   Day 3   Elegy
Apr 2017 · 655
Memory Perennial Garden
Tivonna Apr 2017

1.  Collect thinned throw away perennial plants; family and close friends are best.
2.  Choose a sunny protective garden space, partial shade may work.
3.  Collect garden implements; ***, *****, rake and watering container or hose. If none—improvise.
4.  Bring creativity, love of gardening and outdoors, frugality, patience, memories, and your hands.
5.  For those who love to get hands muddied—no gloves required.


Gardening rules can be broken; plant when received.  Using creativity decide on groupings or dispersing, height and growing patterns. Consider bloom times to create an ever-blooming summer garden.

Use implements to save your back and for digging holes.  To really get into it, get down on hands and knees.  With tender loving care, place that special memory plant in designated hole.  Give it a good drink of water.  Replace dug out soil, covering roots. Press with gentle firmness.
*Keep something at your side to help you up if your body won't co-operate
Water frequently in mornings or evenings to prevent drying out.

Walk that well trod garden path throughout the summer. Check memory plants new growth.  Give it your love and attention as you did its giver.  Remember the good, bad, and sad times you have shared.  If deceased, a part of them will remain with you.  

Enjoy and share your eventual multiplied bounties with others.  May all those friendships, unique as each plant and its blossoms, continue to thrive—giving ongoing love, joy, peace and contentment.

April 2, 2017

*Note: if received in autumn, unable to plant, trim leaves back to approximately 2-3” from plant base and place in a cleaned out vegetable crisper in your fridge until spring.
Day 2  NaPoWriMo 2017 inspired by, or in the form of, a recipe! It can be a recipe for something real, like your grandmother’s lemon chiffon cake, or for something imaginary, like a love potion or a spell.
Apr 2017 · 462
My Dervish Side
Tivonna Apr 2017
Desire to dance
as I once did,
lightly on toes,
graceful flow lines,
as I twirled
to accompanied music;
expression of self.


Age has overcome,
as has gravity,
thus heavier footings,
graceful lines remain,
slower music sought
to prevent dizziness;
prayers of non-injury.

April 1, 2017
Day 1  NaPoWriMo 2017

Kay-Ryan-esque poem:  
small, tightly-rhymed, witty with a sharp little philosophical conclusion.
Apr 2017 · 695
Deserting Winter
Tivonna Apr 2017
A very early Spring away from my home domain. Leaving the ongoing cold and snowdrifts piling high. To a renown valley where fruit blossoms will survive, protected by the ancients and its erosion—two lakes on either side.

Seeing and taking in the sounds of returning ducks, some begging for their usual scraps of bread.  Feeling the sun's warmth on exposed arms and face, while lingering over morning's fresh cup of coffee.

Tiny yellow and mauve perennials resting in leafy green collars. Tree buds bursting from their old and weathered grey sleeves, with the smell of freshness, yet a sweetness in the air.

                                                    A moment in time,
                                               Savoring this new season,
                                                    Peace­ful calm inside

March 31, 2017
NaPoWriMo 2017 "early prompt"—Haibun. First part prose poetry, the ending Haiku.
Mar 2017 · 412
Happy Spring!
Tivonna Mar 2017
A celebration,
season's end and new begins,
planted greens now sprout
on indoor tables if snow,
family and friends congregate.

Happy Spring!
Happy New Year!
~ ~ ~ Countdown to tomorrow's sunset ~ ~ ~
Mar 2017 · 436
Song Within
Tivonna Mar 2017
The song within you,
desires true expression,
matching its heartbeat
through its various tempos,
guiding to knowing release.*

Mar 2017 · 1.2k
Smoke Signals
Tivonna Mar 2017
Chimney smoke signals,
Winter's deep freeze upon us,
Swirls with gust of wind.*

This was written during that frigid Arctic weather now 5 weeks ago. My hometown is still having cold weather and snow.
. . . I have fled to warmer weather! . . .
Mar 2017 · 742
Arctic Air
Tivonna Mar 2017
Inhaled Arctic air,
Moisture smoke of exhaled breath,
Ongoing sears lungs,
Frost clings to brows and lashes,
Need scarf around exposed face.

Mar 2017 · 654
Winter Perils
Tivonna Mar 2017
Home to frozen house,
Memory houseplants now dead,
Furnace runs again,
Deceased givers not forgot,
Memories live in my heart.

Written 4 weeks ago.
Although closer to Spring,
I awoke this morning to hoarfrost on trees.
Beautiful !
Feb 2017 · 820
Winds of Change
Tivonna Feb 2017
Subtly from day's drought,
aspects of self ascending
unseen to ones eyes,
sent as gaseous vapours
that will travel far and wide.

Its impact unknown,
while floating on winds of change,
to elevations,
drawing further energy;
now wait in supplication.

Altered state descends,
resting in darkening veils,
its preparation
for release of heavy weight;
and answered invocations*.

Feb 2017 · 954
A Cold Winter Escape
Tivonna Feb 2017
Peering through glass veils
into a world of silence,
surreal in beauty,
achromatic with no hues,
contrasting darkness and light.

Its backdrop and props,
locked in dimension-of-time,
lifeless but with form,
imagination's wonder,
time is insignificant.

It's in those still props
against heaven's grey curtain,
a new world unfurls,
like shaking up a handheld
glass winter wonderland scene.

Displaced sea worlds merge,
tantalizing me inward
to frozen magic,
allowing Flight of Fancy
unfurling in the moment.

Sea Anemones,
Maiden's Hair and Kelp on Rock,
a slow turtle moves,
diff 'rent Corals—shape and size,
Lotus and Water Lilies.

My new world shakes up . . .
fluffy white snowflakes descend,
enhancing this scene,
exaggerating its forms,
illuminating my ocean world.

O my and O wow
with my occasional sigh,
as my inner self
responds to being present,
in my cold winter escape*.

Feb 2017 · 366
Winter's Crunch
Tivonna Feb 2017
Brilliant cold day!
Footsteps crunch loudly in snow,
Frigid silence breaks.

Feb 2017 · 493
Tivonna Feb 2017
I seek your presence,
if only for brief moments,
brightening my day.

Out of the shadows,
I step to meet my missed love,
an absence I've longed.

To feel that sweet warmth,
to feel gentle caresses,
exposing my heart.

Emerging from clouds,
your filtered light shines on me,
caressing my face.

That lift for my day,
basking in new energy,
to life once again.*

Feb 2017 · 880
Tivonna Feb 2017
Distant rainbow arms
embrace amber peaking orb.
Long for warm weather.

Jan 2017 · 4.5k
Shooting Star
Tivonna Jan 2017
Saddled on black night's shooting star,
                                        towards galaxies of delight,
                                        not knowing whence we come nor go,
                                        leaving a trail of dazzling light.

Twinned by one in our direction,
                                        parts of shooting star's origin,
                                        picking up speed and greater light,
                                        enticing us to follow him.

It remains the blackest of nights,
                                         into realms off-course, not traversed,
                                         nor parallel to co-exist,
                                         but falsely led . . . being coerced.

Aborting aspects of itself,
                                         for in great darkness we now flee,
                                         hoping to discover new light,
                                         to land ourselves protecting thee.

Guiding prophecies to protect,
                                        sent through the ages when less hope,
                                        yet new worlds being desired,
                                        difficult in dark downward *****.

Shooting star continues to shed,
                                        its burdensome load of its weight,
                                        diverting course—new direction,
                                        whereas its twin star will abate.

A ride of no comparison*,
                                        shooting star's journey and impact,
                                        now written in the sands-of-time,
                                        imprinting­ what's laid in its path.

Jan 2017 · 866
Tivonna Jan 2017
Deception you show.
Your face so cheery and bright
in cloudless glory.
Your energy very harsh!
Leaving one cold in their flesh*.

Jan 2017 · 971
Winter's Dance
Tivonna Jan 2017
Mid-winter's slow dance,
snuggling in warm home's embrace
with daydreams of spring,
and elevated tempo,
bringing us to life again*.

Jan 2017 · 766
Love Contemplations
Tivonna Jan 2017
In isolation I have lived,
                       protecting me from love's sorrows,
                       contemplating . . . *what is true love
                       while developing inner me.

Steep hills and valleys I have trod,
                      step-by-step in awed wonderment,
                      contemplating its creation,
                      yet learning teachings that it gives.

I recall being a young mom,
                      many emotions in its tests,
                      contemplating life-birthing pains,
                      now all dulled because of its joys.

Memories of family and friends,
                      whether old, new, or now passed,
                      contemplating nearness or loss,
                      their essence over-powers all.

I see news-clips of those displaced,
                      some with smiles and wondering why?
                      Together in supportive bands
                      with courage facing the unknown.

Romantic love is tempor'y,
                      regardless of its length of time,
                      taking us up the ladder's rungs,
                      while learning about selfless love.

That true love great teachers have spread,
                      creation learned or by others,
                      through selfless acts and by be-ing,
                      will last unconditionally.

Our unique gifts we develop,
                      becomes the ladder's brace for rungs,
                      supporting each phase that we now step
                      and that we can give to others.

I'm somewhat pensive today. Today would have been my wedding anniversary. I was married almost 30 years, it ended suddenly, no conscious glimmerings and I was not given a reason why.  It was a painful time. I've been on my own for 16 years. I'm okay and then some. 

I put my early writings together and was published this past year.  
Living in the Valley: A journey back to self.  Yes, my grieving in part prose, part poetry.  Since then, I've been blessed to have someone in my life again. Perhaps I should have written that book earlier!
Jan 2017 · 971
Canvas Quandary
Tivonna Jan 2017
My collection of oil paints,
sitting, untouched for many days,
now sit on a fresh new palette
dabbed in separate rich bright hues.

Decisions to prepare my canvas,
perspective from darkness or light,
whether to mix my colored hues,
or separate by adding light.

Today it's feeling some contrast,
my inner self is dictating
for light's radiant purity,
to soften separate bright hues.

As I gaze upon blank canvas,
it tells me to paint from darkness,
for each stroke of adding some light,
will add soft contrasting beauty.

Inspired unknowingly by Bill Hughes.

2/3rds of the day now in darkness.
Any light and variants of color
is breathtaking beautiful!
So shall I paint my canvas . . .
Dec 2016 · 8.9k
Ice Crystals
Tivonna Dec 2016
Oh, how you sparkle as diamonds so rare,
dancing suspended in mid-morning's air,
face against glass in a trance I do stare,
while warding off the bright morning sun's glare.

Almost invisible to human eye,
it is light and refraction to define,
with unseen prism effects to rely,
painting pale rainbow shades so sublime.

Each crystal is floating, weightless it seems,
hovering low to allow me to see,
their show of exquisite beauty as deemed,
hypnotic—this rare jewel's dancing team.

Effects of crystalline dust a glowing
sustained in visual concentrating,
intense calm while spiritual mapping
my awes and experiencing  time-lapsing.

December 25

Merry Christmas to everyone at HP.  What a privilege and honor to be chosen for the Daily on December 24.  I am away, and had an intuitive nudge to turn my laptop on this morning . . . many notifications!! "What??"  What a rush!  It is magical as a dear poet friend commented, and is definitely so! A special gift Christmas morning to receive.  I thank all dear poets who have taken the time to read my writings, your kindness, love, support, and ongoing encouragement. I will respond to your comments as able, in between meal preparations, and celebrations.

Much love,
Dec 2016 · 720
Flickering Flames
Tivonna Dec 2016
Entranced by your spell
             as your internal flame glows,
             fully protected
             within your rigid glass home,
             tantalizing my desires
             to soar to distant new worlds.

Distantly I watch,
             mesmerized by your spirit
             when lit with new life,
             turning dark nights into day
             and warmth to my chilled spirit.

Your aura of blue
             flickers in heated currents,
             desiring release
             to dance consuming passion,
             now felt in heat crescendos.

Released in dim light,
             you project your dark image,
             pirouetting lust
             in your tempestuous dance,
             reflecting your true essence.

Your moods oscillate
             when conditions entice you,
             peaceful when controlled,
             rage if neglect succumbs you,
             smouldering—when flames are snuffed*.

Dec 2016 · 2.2k
A Force Majeure
Tivonna Dec 2016
This morn is surreal
as I tread my well worn path.
A foreboding chills . . .
My spirit lags as my steps,
while hairs ***** as soldiers.

Sitting myself down,
to greet my beloved friend
as the sun rises,
my retreat and my oneness,
setting the tone for my day.

I long for my love,
to be wrapped in calm comfort.
Today is off-beat . . .
as absence screams a no-show,
nor a rustle in presence.

Absence in ravens
calling and seeking shelter,
nor tail-balancers
with their incessant chatter,
or Aves in morning song.

Many marvelled you,
seeking your safe arm's stronghold,
or your canopied
shelter from the day's weather,
or meditative lessons.

Today you're absent!
Your towering strength now void.
A Force Majeure
severing you to your roots
. . .
yet will maintain your essence.

The rising sun warms,
drying silent tears of loss,
leaving gratitude
for gifted observations,
endowing enlightenment.

Definition: Force Majeure is a phenomena, Act of God, or other unavoidable casualty.

The above write is about my grief over a casualty of a 50 foot plus Canadian Maple tree. It has been in my backyard view for years and  inspiration for many of my writes. My words can not fully convey that majestic sight and significance but is felt internally. It has taught me a lot about life, for in nature . . . My Spirit communes.
Nov 2016 · 858
Life's River
Tivonna Nov 2016
Standing alone in life's river . . .
          taking in its vastness,
          incomprehensible of its beginning and end,
          for it can not be seen,
          except . . . what lays before me,
          be its peaceful calm or its rage,
          depending on external forces not of its control.

Its rocks . . .
          grouped or alone,
          held within her bed,
          stuck in-time . . .
          yet her waters wash each crevice,
          polishing its ragged edges to smoothness,
          bringing out the beauty held within.

Releasing granules overtime . . .
          to be a part of its greater whole,
          creating something new,
          a cushioning . . .
          for what obstacles may take hold
          as the water's power sends.

Many unknown tributaries . . .
          to explore while travelling
          life's river meandering ways,
          even to its constriction,
          obliterating her flow
          to almost nothingness.

Leaving the river's full life force . . .
          to maintain an entrance,
          to naturally change its course,
          if chosen not to explore her tributary veins
          or to cleanse her overgrowth from obscurity*.

Oct 2016 · 914
Snowfall Couture
Tivonna Oct 2016
Designer snowfalls,
clothes the naked in her style,
to enhance or shield
what presents on her runway.
Hopeful "aah(s)" . . . in Haute Couture.

We've had a lot of snow this past week.
Earlier than expected... exquisite beauty!
Oct 2016 · 730
The Raven Calls
Tivonna Oct 2016
O My Beloved . . .
          I am entranced by your spell,
          since your appearance
          made to me from great distance.
          Your spoken words touched my heart.

Lessons I behold . . .
          even with a new season.
          I gaze upon you,
          as you drop your finery
          while gentle breezes stir you.

The Raven descends . . .
          his usual swooping greet,
          a shoulder he seeks,
          your attention he desires
          and your years of rooted strength.

My Love please heed him . . .
          His longed absences you sought,
          the void you have felt.
          His presence fuels your spirit,
          transference—to my essence.

Winter for a spell . . .
          taking that long needed rest,
          gaining energy
          to bring forth renewed beauty;
          expressing all that you are!*

Oct 2016 · 791
The Eye
Tivonna Oct 2016
Mother Earth's garments,
protective for her children,
tattered and thread bare,
many life-times of wearing,
creating exposure gaps.

Not equally clothed,
exposed to seasonal moods
with rippling effects,
anticipating her wrath. . .
magnitude devastation(s).

Planned interventions,
spider threads sun-bursting out,
communicating . . .
seeking expediency,
weakens with non-adherence.

The eye a window . . .
Creator's heavenly view,
watching humankind's
innate highest qualities,
interceding—with hands out.

Hurricane Matthew
Aug 2016 · 1.0k
Self-Made Prison
Tivonna Aug 2016
a memory 1990

Her chair sits in the corner
of that lonely sterile room,
no longer collecting dust,
for now she sits all day long.

That sad forlorn wrinkled face,
fingers intertwined in lap,
darkness permeates her room,
curtains are closed in daylight.

To some they think it's her eyes,
but she is lost in mem'ries,
a slow quiet rock is heard
as she tries to calm regrets.

No visitors seek her out,
care-providers pass on by,
avoiding her lashing out
for the surface they just see,

not the person in the shell,
whose life once held great purpose
as wife, mother, and best friend,
now losses out of control.

I asked to sit for awhile,
on that low stool at her feet.
Questioning why I'd want to
because “others pass me by.”

My inner voice poking me
to sit humbly before her,
to use my patience as 'ear'
and shoulders to 'weight her words'.

In this well stamped memory,
I recall her word's wisdom
as she released life's regrets,
while I became the student.

The following day . . . sunshine!
That rocking chair now empty
as she stood at open door,
and watched passerby's looks

Aug 2016 · 700
Strung Words
Tivonna Aug 2016
Strung words are trapeze artists,
swinging. . .but in mind,
trying to catch another.*

Aug 2016 · 447
Love's Return
Tivonna Aug 2016
I stand on the pier,
old and crumbling over time,
my prints embedded,
accumulating sand grains
as waves crash against the rocks.

A new day awaits!
Illuminated glory
no longer slumbers,
now peeking horizon's edge,
reflecting glist'ning waters.

Anticipation . . .
as wind stirs and waters swell,
sighting those distant sails,
now tattered beyond repair
from life's full-sail voyages.

Enhancing my gaze,
I leave my well-known pier,
a new direction . . .
trusting my whispering heart,
to find a new pier to wait.

In each unique way,
both weathered the elements,
commonalities . . .
Courage, Believing, and Trust,
following their heart's compass.

Love's beauty returns,
even with rusted anchor,
now docked in full view.
All sails taken down to float
in peaceful new calm waters.

Aug 2016 · 919
Roads Less Travelled
Tivonna Aug 2016
Journey to the unknown
on roads less travelled,
seeking the heart's desires,
yet it does not speak.

The eyes strain for that window
to open the soul,
to touch that wandering heart,
to let the sun in.

Allowing splendorous rays
to melt away doubts,
and any apprehensions
that have become fears.

Allowing only beauty
to light this new path,
to transcend and to enfold
in peaceful comfort.

May 2016 · 1.2k
The Great Brrrr
Tivonna May 2016
A translation by sight and sound

The brrrring cold returns,
then we hide
after bidding farewell to you,
O warming sun

As you drift,
below . . .
under earth's waist-belt
where others sing you praises.

Once living in ice houses,
warming in *******,
singing out our praises
while embraced in rapture,
in the icy cold
and heavy-laden frosts.

Again we sleep without you . . .

with our crystal breaths,
our winter's banshee,
and extended *******.

Then all chased away . . .

with your yellow halo's return.*

NaPoWriMO - Day 30 prompt to translate a poem from a different language by sight and sound.

My choice

By Gerour Kristny
Apr 2016 · 987
My House
Tivonna Apr 2016
I remember special houses,
          my brains memory vault,
          a cache of stored life-tapes,
          a period in-time.

I remember headstones,
          walking in a graveyard,
          etched in its history,
          natives and whites co-exist.

I remember field trips,
          visiting museums,
          a life of history,
          for appreciation.

I remember field crops,
          a patch-work of colours,
          kissed by the autumn sun,
          its harvest to feed many.

I remember so much,
          yet my vault needs dusting,
          'my house' needs some order
           for the joys in my day.

I remember 'my house,'
          a gift for me to dwell
          while I make my own mark,
          my imprint in this life.*

NaPoWriMo-D29 prompt “I remember”
Apr 2016 · 968
Tivonna Apr 2016
Today's cerebrations,
purifying my abode,
increasing new energy.

Tomorrow's solstice,
exalting 'she who gave life'
to me—and my earthly reign.

NaPoWritM0-D24  Mix and match both overly and boring words.   Sodoka style used.

Yes, my birthday tomorrow and a real biggy !
I'm ok with it all and I look forward to its unfolding.
Apr 2016 · 843
Honeyed Words – A Sonnet
Tivonna Apr 2016
My love, I beheld your hidden beauty
on yesterdays crack-laden garden path.
To restore, my fullest pledge and duty,
for your honey-nectar words did attract
my heart, my love, and all you could extract.

Without farewell, setting sail in darkness,      
taking all your 'longings' and honey-casks,
to face the unknown and weather's harshness
without an anchor and faithful compass.

Now marooned on distant shores of wasteland,
alone with casks-of-honey—yes, heartless
and loveless—perils away from homeland,
for your actions did not match your sweet words;
reserved for wastelands and scavenging birds*.

NaPoWriMo-D23  Sonnet
My first sonnet attempt
Apr 2016 · 1.7k
Earth Day 2016
Tivonna Apr 2016
Bells are rung,
words are sung,
uniting all,
Earth Day's call.

World unity,
its diversity,
in protection and rebirth,
for home—Planet Earth.

Our life giver,
food, water,
warmth and air,
we all are her heirs.

Giving voice for all life,
to dwell without strife,
for coexistence
and interdependence

Preserving her beauty,
conservation our duty,
habitats for all life
and our sense's delights.

Each playing a part,
before we depart,
in her protection,
and its correction.

NaPoWriMo-D22 prompt- to write a poem about Earth Day
Apr 2016 · 826
Hjuki and Bil
Tivonna Apr 2016
Oh, those dubious hill climbs*

Mani's full glow . . .
          emanates from the heavens,
          penetrating atmosphere's layers
          to those child-wondered hills.

Filled with his love . . .
          endless in time,
          watching his frolicking children
          in attempts to fetch life's waters.

Always shining with love . . .
          in their attempts,
          to climb that well-trodden path,
          yet they always seemed to tumble.

Helplessly watching . . .
          their trek uphill,
          he continued to light the way,
          knowing they missed that well again.

To intercede became his plan . . .
          to prevent further injuries,
          that earthly crown could take so much,
          along with multiple bruising.

Wisking them away . . .
          to fly in the heaven's with him,
          bringing them home again,
          and to find their life's water.

NaPoWriMO-21 to write a poem in the voice of minor character from a fairy tale or myth.

Jack and Jill has many interpretations—lovers, 2 male priests, beheadings, royal taxes, siblings, pint of ale and brew, to the Norse myth Hjuki and Bil.  Mani is the moon (their father) and my altered approach to the singing rhyme Jack and Jill.
Apr 2016 · 625
Tivonna Apr 2016
seasonal – growers
earthen – sunshine
shadows – brilliance
garden's – rainbow
eye – candy
beauty – designer

natural – remedies
medicinal – powers
mood – elevators
calm – inducers
perfume – infusers
aroma – inhalers
energy – giver
soul – speaker

bee's – delight
honey – maker
humming bird's – nectar
bird – sanctuary
butterfly – adornments
ant – attractor

home – greeter
inside – sunshine
heaven – indoors
decor's – friend
room – deodorizer
winter's – paradise  

word – forgiver
word-loss – wonder
peace – maker
love's – gift
compassion – healer
appreciation's – bouquet

seed – spiller
multipliers – in-time
propagation – wonders
ever – giving
limitless – bounties
poetic – writes

just – because

NaPoWriMo-D20   Kenning Poem
Riddle-like metaphors used in Norse sagas.
Ways of calling something not by its actual name, but by a sort of clever, off-kilter description.
Tivonna Apr 2016
My long red-blonde hair my first address,
comb-parting down head centre’s back mess,
now gathering above each ear,
to tie making mini horse tails.

On my rack's find, a bright green T
to dress big balloon ***** me,
a mirrored chuckle I do see,
no need to exaggerate ****.

My style most cheerful and trendy
in my beautiful canary
double x painter's bibbed coveralls,
the last accessory is shoes.

Always my dream and great delight
to shop for shoes that are just right,
always, always one-of-a-kind
for striking co-ordination.

Today's find are designer shoes,
my flats coloured peacock blue,
long with rounded over-sized toe box,
satisfied—my look now complete

Except—to apply my makeup,
exaggerating long lashes,
with thick clumps of midnight black,
to flutter when they are needed.

To outline my lips in ruby,
taking their shapes lead but outside,
enhancing my so-called great smile,
now reaching towards both my ears.

Oh, but my many quandaries,
what do I do with my nose?
do I wear a bulbous big red?
or paint its tip a heart in red?

The later because it is me
each day and whatever I decree,
today it's healing in laughter,
to visit the sick and dying.

So now it's clowns in happy twos
strutting walking waddles on cue,
albeit a hesitancy,
to hospital ward allocation.

An elderly woman sits crying,
her husband now is dying,
no family at the bedside,
except for a couple of clowns,
at a loss for words—I did mime.

The clown and the me dropped a tear,
while holding hands and she in prayer,
Later told, “ I thought angels had wings,
now I know they have red noses.”

NaPoWrit-D19 Today's prompt a didactic poem focusing on practical skills and its instructions, weaving concrete details. The “practical” skill could be somewhat mythological, imaginary, or funny.

My written piece is real and actually happened. The question is, is it practical?  Possibly for those who choose this incredible, creative path in giving to others. It's a good path for those who could use some laughter in their own life.
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