the road

    Straining to hear
Broken eggshell pieces on white plate of the day,
    drops of leftover rain
scattered leaves on brown feet of the road--
    bouncing from leaf to leaf
where does one find the path on these highways?
    in surround sound--

Inside the mailbox, spider dusty,
    Trucks rumble by, 
outside the lamp post, black sentinel.
    an engine idles, 
On the roped mat, where are the footprints?
    children holler. 
In the river of stones, where are the fish?
    It's like trying to hear a rainbow 
In the smoggy sky, where are the banners?
    from the bottom of a well.

We trudge in the lead-stained edges of our palms
    Struggling to coax the sun
in the everyday, seeking the spark to move our lips.
    from the corners of her eyes
We flounder, scouring the sea with nets and ropes
    to light and heal
to find that the pearl is inside us. The fire is within us.
    the parts of her that are ravaged.

We marvel at the sunrise on the moon-shaped lake,    
    She heard about a man
whose arms are wide as the river, face of red wine.    
    who wrapped himself in plastic
Gather all the broken pieces, layer a brick stone,    
    and lay on a hot tar roof,
lean on your back, a forest sleeps in your hands.
    begging the sun to come and heal him.
We build the road, one step at a time. 

This meandering created by  
Grace and Marian.

Happy Birthday to Imaginary Garden With Real Toads! 

We are honored and grateful to be part of this inspiring group.

Journey's End

Greetings, all! Grace here. You may have noticed the "format challenge" tag moving around a bit--I'm sorry to say this is my last format challenge article for now. I'm looking forward to having time to write and share poems and experiences with you more often, though!

I had planned to write you a very scholarly article on any number of things, but I thought, we so rarely go back and practice things that were novel once. So let us go back and try, try again. If you don't like that idea, feel free to Google "villanelle" and meet my nemesis.

You may choose any of the following, listed from most recent to least: renga (I suggest forming a group of at least three for easiest organization), tanka, fixed-form haiku, tanaga, aubade, a traditional Welsh combination, toddaid, cywydd llosgyrnog, awdl gywydd, triolet, rondeau or rondeau redoublé , rondelet, or roundel.

I'm grateful for the opportunity to have shared all of these forms with you, and now I'm looking forward to being a participant rather than a commenter!

Aside from that, I wanted to leave you with the beautiful renga that we have all created together. I've added the ageku and given it a title. I hope you all enjoyed writing it as much as I enjoyed watching it come together.

Had I the Words: a Real Toads renga.

Some claim April rain

brings the blossoms of May, but

trees here are hasty

like youth, ardor unrestrained,

eager for Spring's first sweet kiss.

Sakura blossoms

in the arms of Old Man Tree--

drops of moonlit milk.

Showgirls performing a dance

inspir'd by Moonlight's embrace,

their graceful waves in

a risqué spring ballet, legs

kick the silver sky,

stars wink at rainbow feathers

that tease with each fluttering.

My full heart flutters,

I become dancer and dance

under April's moon,

and a blossoming cherry

in the sweet, full warmth of May.

Still, you, resting far

north where snow still flies and melts,

await midnight summer.

Polar day does not circle

on cosmic calliope--

Pegasus gallops

to the music of the spheres

while star clusters spin,

the earth spins on its axis,

hums its music in B flat,

Spring pirouettes ice,

spun sugar and crystal shards,

across the cosmos.

Bright silver vessel, half moon

empties dawn into morning,

the night bids farewell.

Leaving a trail of stardust,

it flies on its way.

Restored to herself, the earth

resumes her orderly spin.

At a loss for words--

coherence has taken flight

on the wings of nerves--

I pluck the blossoming twig,

write the character for "love."

Verses contributed by Art Happens 365, Skylover, Ella, Laurie Kolp, Susie Clevenger, Other Mary, Kay (Alberta, Canada), Sunflower Shan, Jinksy, Caddoc Trellis, Margo Roby, Jules, Misky, The Happy Amateur, Sara McNulty, and Grace O'Malley, with some minor editing by Grace O. 

Individual verse credits can be found here.

A Word with Laurie

Gratitude can transform common days into thanksgivings, turn routine jobs into joy, and change ordinary opportunities into blessings.
~William Arthur Ward

Yesterday Americans celebrated Thanksgiving; a time of gathering with family and friends, a time to stop and celebrate all the blessings in our lives, a time to step out of our shoebox diorama and just rest. On this holiday we eat…eat…eat, then eat some more, watch football or movies, play games and call up long lost relatives for the annual chit-chat. The day is a nice respite, but I’m always grateful when it’s over.

My family has the tradition of going around the room and saying what we are grateful for. From the oldest (74) to the youngest (8), there was a common thread I picked up on yesterday; nothing shared was of materialistic origin. Sure, shelter and clothing were mentioned; but not designer jeans, or new convertibles, elaborate vacations or money. The kids said nothing about video games or the Wii when it was their turn. What mattered the most? Family, health, friends, employment, God/Higher Power, love, peace, pets. What a blessing!

There have been many years when it was very difficult for me to find something to be thankful for. A black cloud of depression shadowed me and a backpack of burdens weighted me down, but I always found one thing to contribute. There is always a silver lining on every cloud no matter how gloomy things appear.

I’ve come a long way since those troubled times, and one thing that helps me remain positive is making a gratitude list. I try to do that as frequently as I can. What I have discovered is that when I do make a gratitude list and write it down (instead of simply thinking about it), my outlook on life is brighter. Everything around me seems sharp and clear instead of fuzzy and gray.

That is what I want you to do today; write a poem of gratitude. It can be a list of many things, a special memory, maybe a person who has made a difference in your life, or a list from A-Z of what you are thankful for.

So the word today is gratitude. I can’t wait to read your offerings. One thing’s for certain- I’m grateful for all of you!