Imagine the Possibilities

It’s Poetry Friday! Today Amy is our gracious host, rounding up everyone’s posts at The Poem Farm. Be sure to stop by for lots of poetry goodness.

Earlier this week I had the privilege of attending a UCLA Extension class on writing poetry for children led by our own April Halprin Wayland. What a wonderful way to spend a few hours! April wasted no time in getting us outside in nature where we could notice, reflect, and find emotion.

In late fall my garden is not at its best, but I marveled at the few last blooms on the rose bushes. I recorded facts, feelings, and connections that resulted from observing the blooms. In just a few minutes I noted the softness of the petals, the sharp thorns, the different shades of green in the leaves, the sweet smell. I remembered rose scented soap, and the pink ears of my childhood cat. These connections led to poems that were revised throughout the class. This one came from wondering about a bud that was still tightly curled, as if wanting to wait for the perfect day to reveal itself, and a question I jotted: Will the bud unfurl slowly?

September Rosebud

You’re the last of your bunch,
not quite ready to call it quits.
Will you take your time unfurling
petal
by petal
by velvety-soft petal,
greeting the sun,
meeting each last best day,
lingering long
before the frost?

I hope so.
Draft, RoseCappelli2025

If you have an opportunity to take a class from April, please don’t hesitate. She values community and encourages trying things out to see how they fit.

Welcome! It’s Poetry Friday and the roundup is here!

Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.
-Mary Oliver

I try to live by Mary Oliver’s suggestion and find something each day to notice and appreciate. I write these observations down in a log I call “Snippets.” It is supposed to be a daily practice, but lately I found myself not recording. Was it that I just stopped writing things down, or worse, was it that I stopped paying attention? That worried me.

Since September always feels like a new beginning, I’m using this month to reset and get back into the habit of appreciating all the world has to offer, especially the little things that often go unnoticed. My poem for today comes from a few of my recent observations:

If Only for a Moment

Sometimes I imagine
if only for a moment

what it would be like
to live as the hawk
perched at the top of the pine
like a Christmas star,

or the deer
bounding through the yard
and over the fence
with the grace of a ballerina.

Sometimes I imagine…
if only for a moment.
Draft, 2025RoseCappelli

Thanks for reading! Please leave your link with Mister Linky and visit the other links as time allows.

It’s Poetry Friday! Margaret has the roundup today at Reflections on the Teche with a taste of her recent trip to Scotland. Be sure to stop by for lots of poetry goodness.

The seasons seem a bit mixed up this year. After a very chilly and rainy spring, we jumped right into summer heat and humidity. It’s barely September and already the air is chilly, the shadows long, the vibrant hydrangeas a memory. I love fall with its deep russets and golds, sweater weather temps, and all things pumpkin and spice. But it seems early to bid farewell to summer. I’m trying to savor these last days as best I can, some of which is reflected in my list poem for today.

Before Summer Slips Away…

indulge in ice cream from a local creamery
grill corn on the cob in their husks
dine al fresco at sunset
plan a picnic
plant tulip bulbs
stargaze under the midnight sky
tickle your toes in ocean’s tide
burn a candle with a summery scent
pick a bouquet of wildflowers
answer the geese honking goodbyes
celebrate each day, each moment…

before summer slips away.

It’s Poetry Friday! Carol has the roundup today at Beyond Literacy Link where she talks about the art of summering. Be sure to stop by lots of poetry goodness.

My gardens have not been as abundant as they have been in past years. That is probably due to a combination of factors including weather and my gardening skills. But those factors might also include the midnight visitors who help themselves to Hosta leaves, hydrangea buds, and any variety of delectable blooms. Usually in late summer I have a good amount of black-eyed Susans, but this year I could find only one lone survivor.

Imagine my delight then to receive a poetry swap from Sarah Grace Tuttle that included a poem about a black-eyed Susan and a fantastical garden visitor.

Garden Visitor
by Sarah Grace Tuttle

In the bright yellow petals
of a black-eyed Susan
a tiny dragon curls,
purple scales glinting
around the tall, dark cone.
It licks drops of nectar,
humming in joy
like the most fantastic bee.

Inspired by Grace’s lovely poem, I wrote this tanka about my lone survivor:

Look Closely

one black-eyed Susan
lifts its head toward the light
to warm the dragon
hiding like a buzzing bee
within the dark cone center
Draft, RoseCappelli2025

Thanks for reading! Carol has the roundup today at Beyond Literacy Link where she talks about the art of summering. Be sure to stop by for lots of poetry goodness.

It’s Poetry Friday! Heidi has the round up today at my juicy little universe. Be sure to stop by for lots of poetry goodness.

This summer I was treated to some very special poetry swap gifts. Thank you to Carol Labuzzetta and Linda Mitchell for your thoughtful, personal and beautiful packages that brightened my day and will continue to do so. I’m always amazed at the generosity and creativity of this writing community. Thank you all for being part of my world.

I’ve been spending time this summer with Maggie Smith’s Dear Writer, taking time during August to revisit some of the suggested readings and generative writing activities Maggie suggests. One activity was to open a book of poetry and copy words, a line, or a sentence to see if it opens a door to something unexpected. You may have noticed that one of my gifts from Linda was a book of poetry, The Cat Prince & Other Poems, by new-to-me Scottish poet, Michael Pedersen. I was drawn to his poem “The Rain in Cushendall” with its nod to Billy Collins. The words were rich and wonderfully descriptive and led me to this unexpected response:

The Garden in August
(inspired by “The Rain in Cushendall” by Michael Pedersen)

It rained last night…
finally.
Not the cheek-chiseling, rhododendron-rattling rain
like you might find in Cushendall,
but a wish-whispering, softly-soaking rain
that filled the cups of the cosmos
then spilled onto almost-brittle leaves.

Today the air is clearer,
the thirst-quenched flowers perkier,
renewed in spirit
at least for a few weeks…
as summer slips away.
Draft, 2025RoseCappelli

Thanks for stopping by!