moonlight on the cornfields

think about the silence
and listen to the moonlight
rising o'er the cornfields
in summer days of yore

a childhood ringed by fields
golden green in summertime
with fireflies dancing high
may I really call this mine?

think about the sunlight
and winds across the plain
listen to the twilight
with its sweet fall of rain

we may not always notice
the beauty all around
open your eyes and ears
to the many sights and sounds

think about the cornfields
soaking up the sun
and how we felt so spent
when each day was done

(think about the moonlight
and listen to the silence
among the Illinois cornfields
where I will play no more)

I can't explain how much I miss it
and even though I've moved away
sometimes my heart flies with the wind
and I feel the cornfields sway

*********************************
Note: The second-to-last stanza was originally the last, but at first I didn't like it. And then I couldn't decide which stanza fit better at the end, so I placed one in the parentheses and included them both. Ah, the complications. >_>
This was also a difficult poem to write; not that I don't adore the landscape of Wisconsin, I just sometimes really do miss the beauty of Illinois. Some people may say it's boring and there is nothing there to see, but I can't avoid having grown up there and learning to appreciate it! I also am an incredibly nostalgic and sentimental person (as many of you already know) and tend to see the past through rose-colored glasses. :P

Ode to My Cookbooks

Dear cookbooks,
I love you,
But
sometimes I just need to create
a little recipe
of my own.
I hope you're not offended.
You look so lovely
sitting on my shelf.
Sincerely,
An Experimental Cook

P.S.
I promise to always
consult you if I bake.

wings [a haiku]

i soar on the heights
all below is verdant green
above -- crystal blue

because I heard the wind

because I heard the wind
once before

it took me far away
on its wings

a cup of chocolate left
growing [c]old

              I could hardly take it
              anymore

              my heart was beating fast
              in tandem

              with the rain coming down --
              torrential

I never could have stayed --
the wind called

too soon I had to leave
without you

is there a place we may
meet again?


I wrote this poem after I finished reading The Girl With No Shadow, which is the sequel to Chocolat, which I read last year. Both books are by Joanne Harris. They are magical realism and both are wonderful stories. The second one especially is a modern fairy tale.

I hope you enjoy this poem that was inspired by these books. :)

shipwreck waiting [a ballad in the making]

This is poetry, of a sort. However, I want to turn this into a ballad something like the songs that the characters in The Lord of the Rings sing. I would like your honest opinion on what I have here so far, because this isn't the finished product!

~Shipwreck Waiting~

An old fisherman once told me

there’s a shipwreck waiting

beneath the cool blue main;

it calls your name.

I asked him where he came from;

he said he didn’t know

but cold winds blew him here

from somewhere far below.

and this is what he told me:

there’s a shipwreck waiting

beneath the cool blue main;

it calls your name.

what good is a legend if no one believes?

What good is a promise that no one will keep?

I wandered far and wide

but all I found was a world

filled with filth and lies.

I asked him where he came from;

he said he didn’t know

but cold winds blew him here

from somewhere far below.

and then he told me:

there’s a shipwreck waiting

beneath the cool blue main;

it calls your name.

Tell me if you can:

Why does the sun shine so bright?

Why do the waves crash upon the shore?

Why are the ghosts of the past

more real and true than those

whose shadows are cast?

what is true and what is real

and are they even the same?

I’d rather read a story older than time

than blunder through a world darker than sin.

the old fisherman smiled as he told me

there’s a shipwreck waiting

beneath the cool blue main;

it calls your name.

his shadow never cast,

his skin translucent in the sun,

somehow he knew my heart

as it coursed the race I run.

I asked him where he came from;

he said he didn’t know

but cold winds blew him here

from somewhere long ago.

Haiku for Frost

the frost's on the ground --
it covers the windowpane --
Old Man Winter wakes

Hello November

hello November
you came with howling winds
and blew away October 
till we couldn't look back again

hello November
you're cold and dark and grim
but full of anticipation
for pumpkin pie and autumn's end

hello November
we have you for Thanksgiving
and last short bursts of sunshine
before winter settles in