Category Archives: Poetry

Infatuation

img-X01005929-0002(2)Tete-a-tete

Infatuation

On this harsh, blustery day
heart holds only spring.
Sun will not be halted
in its march to rule the hours.
Spirits lift up to the light;
we hear a new tune
trilled in morning’s twilight;
evening’s glimmer lingers
along horizon, competes
with the rising moon.
Storms do not defeat us;
their bellows have
a distant, hollow tone.
We are already infatuated
with the romance of spring;
like lovers in a trance,
no vagrancies of weather
will distract us from
the rapture of life’s renewal.

Lainie Senechal

Eagle Sleeps

img-X01010841-0001Ruler of the Wind

Eagle Sleeps

Low on horizon full moon sends

swirl of sparks along the waves.

An eagle sleeps in tall pine

digesting recent meal.

Light sifts softly through

dark green needles;

creates a rich landscape,

otherworldly and imaginative,

where new life forms could arise

and unexpected changes may occur.

Lainie Senechal

This poem was a winning entry in the Eagle Festival Poetry Contest, Joppa Flats Education Center, Newburyport, MA

Wind Speed

Moon Patiently WaitsMoon Patiently Waits

 

Wind Speed

Storm commences quietly
with flakes which twirl
like fleece of dandelion
in a vernal breeze.
Gusts suddenly swell;
snow begins to wheel,
eradicates view of lake;
white becomes singular scene.
Drifts mound their mantels
over every form, like furniture
shrouded in wait for relocation.
Flakes dissolve into streams
that seem to fly at speed of light.
Blizzard whips around corners;
a fuming fiend, howling ferociously.
Huddled in house, near hearth,
with hope the tempest
will soon subside.

Lainie Senechal

 

My Resolutions

Who's There!Who’s There!

My Resolutions

To gaze upward; stare
at ever shifting sky;
keep my head in clouds
as they fly across
each facet of the moon.

To never neglect nuances
of various seasons:
first snowdrop to
don its ivory bell;
song sparrow’s sweet trill
in morning’s twilight;
sun’s shimmer on summer sand;
sea’s warm, salty embrace;
a yellow leaf that lands blithely,
ragged calligraphy of cormorants
across autumn’s dome;
solitary flake silently drifting
in brittle air of a frigid night;
frolic of flames in hearth.
These matters I will regard.

To exist in the twinkling of time;
cease memory’s constant churning;
abandon tomorrow’s anxious hours;
be mindful each minute
of every golden hour.

 

This poem was chosen has the featured entry (1 of 2 chosen) in January 2015 on the website hourofwrites.com.  The judge, poet Mark Ward, says, “The standout line for me is ‘calligraphy of cormorants’ which is a wonderfully evocative image.  I also liked the use of alliteration throughout the poem.”

To M.H.

gramsPlace10th Anniversary

 

To M.H.
No longer do I play
tapes and discs made
when you plucked your guitar;
drank your whiskey.
No longer do I travel
to your tropical compound,
your artists’ Shangri-La
to paint in your gardens;
pen poems on your porch.
No longer do I take the bus
to Montreal, sun streaming in
to warm the winter day;
bathe us in a heavenly light
as we roll along the road.
No longer to I hang out
on Rue Sainte-Catherine;
wander directionless and droll
with light snow falling,
listening to Dylan, repeatedly,
sipping a large cup of cafe au lait.
The decision to cross the dark river
was yours alone.
The blues that haunted us
swept you away.
Your visits in dreams
are slowly dissolving;
at times, I long for your return;
a want which will never be fulfilled.
Lainie Senechal

Into the Darkness

img-Y20192623-0003

Into the Darkness

Into the winter darkness,
no bleakness nor despair;
an illumination, beneath
the sable sky, laced with tiny lanterns.
Long, night moon’s gentle glow
accompanies our journey;
day’s frenzied energy dissipates.
In evening’s quiet calm,
amidst silent sifting snow,
rose that is the heart opens;
we descend slowly into
the diamond mine of the soul.

Lainie Senechal