Archive for the ‘Marilyn Peretti’ Tag

36   2 comments

flowers made of air
petals dense in color

colors beyond palettes
sky bluer than ever

blue I can breathe
spring surging

beyond expectations
fulfilling hopes seeded

in coldest times

Morton Arboretum April 23

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Four Clerihews
as published online: Highland Park Poetry

Here comes Michael Phelps
through the water to wild yelps.
I’m jealous of his skill to swim.
For me, it’s straight back to the gym!

Take a look at Joe Biden,
the high road he’s sure been ridin’,
but pretty soon he’ll disappear
to V.P. heaven and a beer.

Of the Obamas I’ll take Michelle,
a tall and gorgeous bombshell.
Soon she’ll have to take backseat
to pretty daughters: admit defeat!

Have you heard of Elizabeth Warren
harping on good fiscal carin’?
For my money I like the mattress
to counteract the dollar stress.

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Because

Because of what happened
this garden is my refuge,
this silence amongst purple coleus
trailing inquisitive vinca vines.

I hear not one opinion
uttered from the plants,
just their perky faces toward morning light,
their spines straight with innocence
and disregard for my life,

or possibly standing tall
to demonstrate graceful endurance.
Only their lives matter—being God’s
earthly ambassadors, holding
no one accountable for silliness.

Even the overgrown fern
showers delight from its crowded
nest of green fronds,
drooping, bowing to reality.

Time, I say.
Time they tell me is needed
for strides of growth. Time and rain—
rain from dark clouds pouring
into patient soil, rearing
the pointed caladium leaves of fiery red
and starlight of white impatiens’ flowers.

My Patio in August

My Patio in August

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Are You Abdullah?

Are you the father?
The father who carefully escapes
overland the dread, the torment,
threats, fire and bombs of Syria,
then gathers up your family again
with small bags of clothes
and biscuits, climbs aboard
a rubber raft heading
to the island of Kos, bound
in an armor of hope?

When high waves topple
the boat and the captain deserts,
do you steer until impossible?
Are you the father who watches
your wife float away,
your little boys struggle
for air, then vanish?

Are you the father who cries
as he picks up one beautiful son
washed up on the beach,
who wonders where the world is
as the ocean swallows his nation?

Published on newversenews[dot]com, Sept. 4, 2015
Awarded First Prize by Illinois State Poetry Society, Oct. 2015

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Centenarian Overload
. . . . Japan 2015

We are very well
eating simple rice
fish and seaweed
stretching in the park
we are now 100 years
poised to accept
sterling silver gifts

so well we number
twenty-nine thousand
thus no silver anymore
maybe crisp paper
letters signed
by Shinzo Abe
Congratulations

This poem published September 1, 2015 on newversenews[dot]com

Poetry Book   3 comments

AngelsWingsWebSmall

A book of poems about fungi, mushrooms.

One wild mushroom is named Angel’s Wings, pure white and shell shaped.
This new book is poems dwelling on the wonder and surprise of so many kinds of mushrooms
that are found in the woods. Peretti watercolors on both covers; ink illustrations inside.
Find this book in the “Bookstore” of http://www.blurb.com

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Still Living

I will be alive
when I am dead,
did you know that?
I will not be still
like a hard stone,
but breathing
as roses do,
as robins do,
as the heart
of mountains
which change
and move,
as the mycelium
of mushrooms
under the soil,
unseen, ignored,
sprouting up
at a moment’s notice.