Baobab World

The world is a baobab

teeming with life and water

without water it shrivels

and dies

[Ibu Batuta an Arab explorer in East Africa saw a baobab and recorded it in his 14th century travelogue

botanist Alpino in 1592 ate the fruit while in Egypt and called it Bahobab from the Arabic buhibab which means many-seeded fruit

French explorer Michal Adanson observed a baobab in 1749 on the island of Sor in Senegal recognized the fruit described by Alpino and called it baobab]

Now the singing tree of superstition is alive

and filled with water

holding perhaps 12,000 gallons

replenishes itself in the rainy season

kuokoa

who stops the rain?

bwana anaokoa

Oh singing tree of superstition

bark taking water in

smooth bark

leaves like a vegetable

everything here for survival

pulp of the seed like candy

ciru

beautiful inside and out

qualities that go forward into the ages

living thousands of years

Oh singing tree

withering prophet

speak for the world

tuokoe

save us

Oh singing tree that gives blessings

and curses

in you there is life

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NaPoWriMo Day 8 “Twenty Little Poetry Projects”

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In the Shade

In the shade of the baobab tree

boto drivers wait to give rides

slim cattle rest from the sun

there are children who sit briefly

watching the cars and trucks

as the dust flies up

and the old men sit in their chairs

or walk further down the road

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NaPoWriMo Day 7 prompt to write a list poem

Let Go

let go

of love

and death—

you think

too much—

when love comes

you will be joyous—

when death comes

you will be ready

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NaPoWriMo Day 6 prompt inspired by Portuguese poet Vasco Graça Moura and his poem a dog for pompeii

Swimming

I went out into the sea

ready to die

waves crashing at my knees

salt water lifted me

I was made alive

beach walk brought me home

sand sucked my toes

sun on skin

and out on the horizon

the boatman comes

Enjoy Life

Do you enjoy your job?

Life is a job and I enjoy my life. It is a paid position of sunny days, sounds of nature and God’s presence.

Swimming

Hold air like water

float

traverse skyward

in a dream

unbroken

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dVerse prompt on AI. This picture came out of an AI program at the Dali Museum in St Petersburg. My childhood dream of swimming in air was typed into the program and this picture was created by AI.

Newborn

My grandbaby held my right pointer finger while she was sleeping. Her little digits wrapped around and then she squeezed and she is only one week old and already trying to lift her head. She held my finger for at least an hour while I rocked her in the giraffe chair. I wanted her to wake up so we could play. I wanted to sing Winnie the Pooh to her and read her a story.

When you are so small it is hard to get your pajamas to fit right. They keep riding up under your chin and I keep pulling them down, trying to adjust the bootie footed legs of the pajamas. It is possible to protect your chin from any chafing of a poor fit. What will we do tomorrow when your pjs fit perfectly?

listen little heart

count each breath in this moment

sneeze burp hiccup smile

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dVerse prompt to write a haibun and use the word heart

Together

Oh to be able to taste again

I have forgotten what breakfast tastes like

In the sunlight

Hard to tell which part of the body is singing

Too cute

I search the day for pretty words

Coffee coffee buzzbuzzbuzz

So it is settled

This is how the end comes

It is as hot as Texas

There is something about a Queen

I sleep deeply under the strawberry moon

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dVerse prompt to take first line of first poem written in each month of 2022. I wasn’t very prolific this year so had to snitch a couple of lines.

Crossroads

“My battery is low and it’s getting dark.” Mars rover Opportunity

I slept deeply under the strawberry moon

had dreams of your fear of traffic

you would not cross the highway

even though the signs were clear

you were lying on the sidewalk

unable to get up and move

while I was at the other side

waiting and calling

I had to go on

alone

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dVerse prompt using a quote from a list. I loved the quote from the Mars rover.

The Magpies

When just a boy

his Aunt Eva sat at table

playing cards with her friends

they called themselves The Magpies

and he crawled beneath

among their sequoia legs

while over head the squawking

of the birds

At the internment of this aunt

one lone magpie

flew into the small cemetery

as if to say

I am here

I am here

remember me

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dVerse prompt to write a corvid poem