Saturday, November 30, 2019

Teacup Tanka (Day 1045)

Languid whorls of steam

Honey-drizzled summer scents

Eyes closed, breathe and sigh


Winter’s edge gives way to spring

Time travel in a teacup


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Mary Cassatt, Afternoon Tea Party (1891),

drypoint, aquatint, gold paint (print) 

Friday, November 29, 2019

The cares of dreams (Day 1044)

we splashed in puddles 

of sunlight   pools 

deep as Sunday night


frowned at starfish stranded 

by the tide   brittle as hopes 

abandoned  wishes unwished  


yearned to touch   to trace 

with trailing fingertips

the steady breath of clouds 


coquettes   so near   

so sweet   and out of reach   

long past the cares of dreams


dreams of thunder racing 

over waves   surface longing 

for lightning’s serpent strike 

   

and then  midsummer twilight   

how it rose   blue 

as velvet curtains  and as soft


dousing the flames  

still smoldering   like dragons

in the west 


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Thursday, November 28, 2019

Strange skein (Day 1043)

Remember those you leave

stung by a wind like dirty snow 

that tears away the end

of your warm life   row by row 

you knit   that strange skein 

unwinding   comforting 

as fall’s remaining leaves 

their spice carried on the air

red and gold confetti   long after 

you melt into a slow mist 

rolling high among your dark hills 

where ancient landscapes speak 

words long forgotten   and curious 

children walk toward goodbye


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Shrewdcat (CC BY-SA 3.0)

Wednesday, November 27, 2019

Insubstantial (Day 1042)

I clenched my hand 

and the light changed

illuminating a moment 

of carefree domesticity 

too insubstantial to linger

in this raucous world

a cloud shifted and 

the memory faded too 

easily slipping between 

my fingers leaving behind 

only a transient imprint 

of drifting white sand


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Ybratcher (CC BY-SA 4.0)

via Wikimedia Commons

Tuesday, November 26, 2019

Around this time (Day 1041)


even when you don’t feel 

like singing along   you only have to 

imagine the melody   to know 

those words   their perfect cadence

tattooed on your heart   resonating

in your bones   a part of you 

now   and every year

around this time   you will hear them   

like a hymn   again and again


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: PxHere


Monday, November 25, 2019

Blood Moon (Day 1040)


I am the new moon’s razor edge

be careful

the beguiling coral fire that burns 

at dawn

you know what they say

when something luscious calls 

you’ll hear my whisper

close your eyes now  step aside

the sidewalks slowly empty

your blood bright as the morning sky

speaks my name  

a storm rises  with a few words 

the work is done  no tears  no regrets  

it is my way  and yet

somehow I miss you  all the same


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

U.S. Navy photo by Petty Officer 1st Class Charles White


Sunday, November 24, 2019

Too long by far (Day 1039)

Can’t wait 
to say  Goodbye 
is never easy  
We hardly thought 
you’d linger
this way  Though now 
you’ll have to
leave   It’s been too long 
by far   And we can 
barely remember 
life without you   
Your welcome 
has worn thin  Empty 
closets  empty drawers  
Your taxi is waiting
An echo in your rooms   
Please don’t stay 
on our account  
Don’t go away


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Public Domain Image

Saturday, November 23, 2019

One step away (Day 1038)


She loved how                        He lifted her up
like colored lights                  shining
glowing                                    at midnight                             
she felt                                     when they swayed
alone                                        together   she could taste
the bittersweet edge of         goodbye in
each hello                                an old song
every yes a no                         every no a yes
the exquisite pain of             hoping  guessing
meeting  parting                    always one step away
from one another                  from a love 
that felt                                    like dancing
like heartache                         fragile
sweet and sad                         as a poem

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: Michaela/Pexels



(It has come to my attention that some mobile browsers alter the formatting of my poems. So...if you’re not seeing this poem as two distinct columns, try viewing the web version or turning your phone horizontally.)

Friday, November 22, 2019

Now unshaded (Day 1037)

In these frost-tinged mornings,
children’s unmittened hands
turn red and burn with cold.
Beguiled by elaborate games,
they fail to notice, or to care.

Despite these shorter days,
intrepid dogs, owners in tow—
enfolded in thick fleece and wool
—follow trails, now unshaded,
deep into bright, stark woods.

Beyond these denuded trees,
somewhere, the first leaf twirls
and falls. Serrated shadows 
slice lush emerald lawns, still
unmarred by autumn gold.

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: Winslow Homer, On the Trail (1889),
watercolor/graphite/wove paper, via Wikimedia

Thursday, November 21, 2019

One more, one more (Day 1036)


One more tiny paper parasol, 

perched, a paper bird

of paradise, papaya memories, 

mellow and salty

as a thousand yesterdays


one more toast 

to a ghost-peopled world, where 

fathomless teal pools of regrets 

shimmer beneath the shaded gaze

of those who refuse


one more, because 

the tracks extend for miles 

under a blanket of snow, spread 

smooth as false friends pretending 

to like what others despise


one more stand 

of stern pines balking, bowed 

branches tipped delicately, 

choosing, not choosing, swaying

like a song, barely discernible, 

over the playa


one more flock

wings beating south-by-south-east

where no one remembers how, 

that year, the storms fell,

quick and bitter as green fruit


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Winslow Homer, Hurricane, Bahamas (1898), 

watercolor and graphite on wove paper, via Wikimedia

Wednesday, November 20, 2019

At the Edges (Day 1036)

Yesterday we sipped summer 

warmth   barely gold at the edges

while a cerulean wash of sky

fluttered above faces tilted

to catch the last drop of light


Once aqueous green  the woods 

have gone transparent   bare 

branches scraped clean by

an icy wind   blankets of leaves 

heaped at the foot of every tree


Today we opened our eyes to 

a gray world   hills and steeples 

of distant churches crunching 

as we walked under the round 

shoulders of ancient hills  


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: PeakPx

Tuesday, November 19, 2019

Found (Day 1035)

Found (Day 1035)

He found her where 

  he left her | they met 

waves beating sandstone cliffs 

   into submission  

that long walk   

   in the dark 

   they found their way

talking   laughing   sleeping 

   under a warm holiday sky 

they were lost

feeling their way

   through eternal twilight  

   dim & blue  

footprints trailing

  across frosted grass

  across a ballroom floor

  & the long strip 

   of damp brown sand

like breadcrumbs  they led him 

back to where 

   he left her | they met

he found her 

   facing a gray & rolling sea  

he found her: there


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six


Monday, November 18, 2019

Too Fragile (Day 1034)

Too Fragile (Day 1034)

Is something growing 
missing   singing
too far away
to know
the moon 
waxing  waning  rising
pale behind the trees
the night
like sand  slipping 
through your fingers
too fragile to embrace
too exquisite to release

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Sunday, November 17, 2019

Respite (Day 1033)

trees soften and quake  

rustling like water

over a pebbled riverbed 


sunlight bends toward the east

slender blue shadows wander


into darkness again 

yet all is the same

words fall like leaves 

yet nothing changes


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: www.ForestWander.com (CC BY-SA 3.0)

Saturday, November 16, 2019

Omaha (Day 1032)


Somewhere over Omaha  she said goodbye

clouds jostling  shouldering their way 

into a gradient blue  the pilot’s warm-honey voice 

bathing the cabin in reassuring trivia   

legs stretched out   straddling carry-on bags

wings slicing through a continent’s worth of thin sky

wind ripples nosing the plane southward 

where everyday lives unfolded in love and toil and grief   

and families ate together or apart   and friends toasted 

another Friday evening   and first kisses were kissed   

and hearts were bruised   it happened   

she said goodbye   twilight riding hard upon their tail   

without speaking   somewhere over Omaha 


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: US Library of Congress

Friday, November 15, 2019

Diner (Day 1031)

on the counter  tapping

wafting steam scents sizzling

sunbright time-slatted window

onto the street a stage black

and red navy charcoal

uniform uniforms surging

tides ebb and flood breakfast

lunch dinner not so much

they come and come again

waiting  condensation puddles 

slap the bill down  there

on the counter  tapping

 

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Deansfax

Thursday, November 14, 2019

The Slide (Day 1030)

A remembered fog 

raged and roiled like the sea

tires on the verge 

hugging empty curves  

wind bellowing  mud shifting 

and heaving above and silent 

inside  lack of language 

the communication of choice  

questions unanswered  plans 

unmade like Saturday morning beds

swaying over daffodil reflections 

rippling to the right  sheer air 

beyond  below and never 

slowing down


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Anita Hart/CC BY-SA 2.0

Wednesday, November 13, 2019

Three minutes (Day 1029)

Three minutes after goodbye

She glanced back in time to see

Him  head bowed  walking away


And  beyond the precipice

A skyful of sparkling air



(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Shainee Fernando/Pexels

Tuesday, November 12, 2019

Frozen (Day 1028)

impatient landscapes 

prepare to wait  

nestling  warm 

amid painted curtains

drifting  glowing 

like wisdom in 

the snow-perfumed wake 

of winter nights 

eclipsing disenchantment  

and soon they will 

sigh and turn toward 

the windows  misted over 

with frozen joy


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six


Monday, November 11, 2019

Blasé (Day 1027)

If, every day, no veil 

of blue obscured 

our view of the universe,

would we be 

so blasé about 

the ever-present stars? 


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Pixabay


Sunday, November 10, 2019

He is (Day 1026)


Tiny blue wildflowers dot the path.

He tramples them.

Rose-gold sunrise burns the eastern sky.

He closes the blinds.

Someone reaches out with kindness.

He smirks and turns his back.

He calls himself generous.

He calls himself an empath.

He calls himself a victim.

Many are fooled by his boyish charm,

but his deceptive ease and humor 

mask a monster of the worst degree:

He is not your lover.

He is not your friend.

He is the enemy of joy.

He is the sudden darkness, 

and his is the hand 

that snuffs out the candle’s flame.


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Pixabay

Saturday, November 9, 2019

Suggestion of treasures (Day 1025)


What love, that stirs you so deeply for this

world, which knows, intimately, each painful 

step of your path (a staircase, spiraling into 

an unseen end) to listen to peace as it bends 

mysteriously out of sight, to explore its secrets

—tranquility is a curiosity you must satisfy


though you fear the journey, hunger for a way, 

and dread your fathomless lake of yearning, 

you wade into the suggestion of treasures ahead, 

the story of a garden, growing secretly behind 

your shadowed walls, and walk down a twisting, 

time-strewn lane toward the unknown source


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: krantzpeter/Pixabay

Friday, November 8, 2019

Moon Tanka (Day 1024)

half moon rises late
bright wedge trimmed with lace woven
by newly-bared limbs

silhouettes of pale branches
arching black against the stars

© by Hannah Six


Thursday, November 7, 2019

Only Thieves (Day 1023)

not to mention   I am no longer 
satisfied with near virtuosity   
less comfortable 
with a solitary shade 
of perspective
for me   this situation is vaguely 
distracting   searching in a manner 
only thieves recognize   low light
braided with dense darkness
always on the cusp 
of finding   then leaving
soundlessly   by the front door


© 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: PxHere

Wednesday, November 6, 2019

Disparate (Day 1022)


Dragonflies dip   testing 

the fine taut surface 

that separates 

disparate worlds   touching

parting   coming together again

fickle lovers   morning glories 

blue as the sea   

pendulum swinging inexorably 

between 

breath and breathlessness


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Ray Hennessy

Tuesday, November 5, 2019

Quick thoughts on a long fall (Day 1021)

Choosing, you never made 

a choice. Not choosing was 

a choice unto itself.

How do you find your voice, 

when, if you do, you don’t, 

and if you don’t, you do?

When everything is black 

or white, and there’s so little 

room for gray, who decides 

what’s right or wrong? 

Our tragedy lies in extremes:

every hour is night or day, 

all the in-between is gone,

and so, we miss the subtle dusk 

and so, we miss the gentle dawn.


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six


Monday, November 4, 2019

The briefest glimpse (1020)


Even the grass glistened,

each blade ablaze, 

and the leaves, gold and russet, 

sparkling wet, trembled 

a little in the breeze 

that set this dazzling scene 

in motion. 


Even the air glimmered, 

and a flock of starlings took flight 

from a bronzed oak 

at the end of the road, 

soaring as one, tilting 

toward the sudden sunburst, 

wings reflecting the briefest 

glimpse of this magical world.


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: James Jordan (CC BY ND 2.0)