A Message

Today’s challenge at Real Toads in Over/Under/Through.  I am not sure my poem fits this a hundred percent, but I’m going to go with the idea that it’s close enough.  The inspiration of the poem was my walk in pasture earlier this week.  As I sat on the large stone by the waterway and noticed the roots of the trees peeking from the soil looking like bleached bones, I kept hearing “go back to your roots.”  I have no idea what it means, but it certainly did make an impact.  The images are from that same walk.

torn from the earth eons ago,
ancestors lie beneath the land
rain falls, soaks into their soul;
seasons whisper to my heart–
go back to your roots.

ancient wisdom leaches into
the rich, black native soil
old bones reach out to me
from beyond the grave–
go back to your roots.

water that washed bones white
and fed the trees and grass
runs through my veins;
carrying a message across time–
go back to your roots.

layer upon generation of experiences
a foundation set in stone
all the way to solid bedrock
winter winds howl a message–
go back to your roots.


Old Bones

The official directions were to park the car along the gravel road, hike a mile down the railroad tracks, and climb the hill out of the right-of-way into the farm pasture.  There was the pioneer cemetery.  There was my great-great-great grandfather, John Bishop, his headstone a tangible artifact of his existence.

ancestor’s old bones
lying beneath summer grass
family connection


John Bishop (1830 – 1886)

This is my offering for d’Verse Poets Haibun Monday.

A Quadrille

The challenge at d’Verse Poets Pub is to write a quadrille (a 44 word poem) using a form of the word breathe.  Here is my offering.


Ancestors whisper to me
to hear their cry.

Fight for their legacy,
a gift through ages.

Bringing country together,
liberty for all.

Stand proud and tall;
rights have been won.

Never to be stolen,
earned for all.

Breathe the freedoms
of my awakened soul.