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Saving Earth

To Homo Sapiens

 

I am your forest.

The sound of your ax

Silences my voice.

I am your…

I am…

I…

 

*****

I am Salmon.

I am Black Rhino.

I am Honey Bee.

Soon to be fossilized

Into your earth. Unless

 

You learn to hear

Hummingbird wings.

frances

Poets for Peace

When I was in high school, Russia and Communism were taboo subjects; they were feared into silence.  One day I read where poets were the most feared in Russia and my passion for poetry empowered me and I became less and less fearful as I kept on writing. I felt the more poetry I read and wrote, I weaker the enemy became.

Poets for Peace

Each time a poet

Puts pen to paper,

There is a sliver of hope

For Peace.

from my forth coming poetry book: Dangerous Woman….

Spring

To what purpose, April, do you return again?

Beauty is not enough.

You can no longer quiet me with the redness

Of little leaves opening stickily.

I know what I know.

The sun is hot on my neck as I observe

The spikes of the crocus.

The smell of the earth is good.

It is apparent that there is no death.

But what does that signify?

Not only under ground are the brains of men

Eaten by maggots.

Life in itself

Is nothing,

An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.

It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,

April

Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

front yard

Georgia O’Keefe

My host of flowers leaves me

breathless as your one.

lavenderpoppies

During one of my poetry writing sessions with 3rd graders, this was my contribution. Not quite up to par with my students’ poetry.

 

                                  A Poet’s Declaration

 I am a star

In the Milky Way.

I am the crest

On emerald waves.

I am a dewdrop, crystal clear,

Capturing sunbeams in the morning mist.

I am that dust

On butterfly wings.

I am that song

Of a thousand strings.

I am that teardrop

You have kissed.

I am a poet!

I am! I am!

I am that rage

In the thunderstorm,

I am that image

Of a thousand form.

I am magic on each page.

I am a poet!

I am! I am!

 

   Frances H. Kakugawa

   From Teacher, You Look Like a Horse

pens for blog

The poets in droves

Lick their pens, salivating

Over metaphors, images, turning

Death into Life. It must be

Poetry Month.

frances

A Wordsworth Tree Brings Solace

 

palomia tree

When Raj went to Hawaii in 2013, she remembered my children’s  book Wordsworth! Stop the Bulldozer. Wordsworth and his friends write  poetry to save trees and Wordsworth asks readers to plant a Wordsworth tree. Raj brought two Palomia seeds back to Sacramento. The Royal Palomia took root.

Raj deeply believed that the tree would show its first blossom during her mother’s last year as she lived with Alzheimer’s Disease. It did. The tree bloomed for the first time soon after her mother died. Yesterday, we sat before the blossoming Palomia to honor the memory of Raj’s mother. We sipped tea and marveled how Alzheimer’s Disease had brought all of us together.

palomia 1