Tag Archives: art

Rune #8 & Announcement

Earth RunesEarth Runes

Rune #8

The times manifest

an emotional miasma,

runes may pinpoint

the way to rise

from depths of despair.

The dark sky, tonight,

like dome of a deep cavern,

is rich with stars –

fires that burn with

an eternal light.

Lainie Senechal

Announcement:  Lainie will exhibit her artwork and present poetry at “Runes” Winter Festival which will feature the Artwork, Poetry and Music all based on the theme of “Runes”. Kaji Aso Studio, 40 St. Stephen St., Boston, MA,  January 20th 7-9PM.   Poetry Reading and Music Presentation at 8 pm. Free and Open to the Public

Yule

December Motif

December Motif

Yule

A still silent setting

to herald our long dark,

not even a slight breeze.

Lake caught in clutches of ice,

too thin to tread upon.

Wispy trails of ice crystals

settle along horizon,

surround sinking solar glow.

A squirrel quietly munches

sunflower seeds from feeder,

last feast of evening.

Festive lights will flicker on,

fires will be lit

to soften the blackness

and welcome back the sun.

Lainie Senechal

Autumn Runes

Yellow PearsYellow Pears

Autumn Runes

Cormorants’ silent migration

in irregular rune-like patterns:

a mystical message across

time and distance.

Leaves scattered along lake –

what mysteries do they possess

within their demise?

Nature has scratched a note
and stuck it upon the sky

about the change

as light fades slowly

into long obsidian nights.

Lainie Senechal

Autumn Moon

White Pumpkin with Gourd & LeavesWhite Pumpkin with Gourd and Leaves

Autumn Moon

Autumn moon peers
between branches,

as smooth as sticks.

Lost leaves that traveled

on the tireless wind

now lie along roads

or wind up in woods,

trampled by footsteps.

The moon’s enigmatic glow,

sensuous and ladylike,

softens the cold, still night.

Lainie Senechal

Mid-October

Apples with LeavesApples with Leaves

Mid-October

A break in the storm

brings balmy weather,

Changing leaves twist in breeze

but do not abandon branches.

Howling winds that chill toes,

toss branches like cabers

onto brown-hued fields

have not yet arrived.

In mid-October we wait

for transition of seasons:

the arc from warm, sultry days
into fall’s cool, brisk hours.

Dream of summer is long past
while autumn’s entrance
is inexplicably delayed.

Lainie Senechal

Autumn Musings

DOC109Apple with Acorns

Autumn Musings

A cloudless autumn sky,

a day that reverses time,

summer’s mirage heats the hours,

no fog to dim our memory

of balmy days when hawks

ruled the season’s heavens.

Loss of sun and time

a phantom of our remembrances,

we imagine mellow days

will always be our measure.

Lainie Senechal

Autumn Knocks

GourdsGourds

Autumn Knocks

Things transition so slowly:

a few crisp mornings,

the birch barely bedecked

with a garland of golden leaves,

The wild winter ducks have

not returned from up north;

white gulls whirl in wind

to soar above a Great Blue

that still stilts along shore

searching for silver fish.

Autumn knocks on the door

but finds no one home.

Lainie Senechal

September Morning & Announcement

Two SunflowersSunflowers Awaken

September Morning

A morning of secrets –

a halo of mist rings

the cooling lake,

catches in branches

of tall trees along shore.

In some spots the sun

breaks through, bright

rays explode on ripples

created by rising wind which

cleans out remaining wisps,

pushes tethered boats

to rub and squeak against docks,

while a kingfisher rattles above:

the song of a September morn.

Lainie Senechal

Announcement:  Lainie will be exhibiting artwork with members of the Kaji Aso Studio at the Fenway Community Center, 1282 Boylston St., Boston. The exhibit runs from Sept. 1 through Dec. 31st with an opening reception on Sept. 16th from 3-5 PM.  Free and open to the public.

Late August Malaise

Grasses and flowers

Grasses and flowers

Late August Malaise

Near the end of August,

in the languor of hot, humid hours,

I begin to lose focus -

so many arrivals and departures:

beach plums appear, then ripen,

swallows gather in great numbers,

flit randomly in loose flocks,

staging their leave to southern skies.

After a season of protection

and careful noting of fecundity,

plovers have deserted the beach.

A memory returns of one

who left last summer,

not to reappear in our time;

another arrives from abroad.

Some leaves look weary, already

dropping their garment of green.

They release to run amok

among grasses that ripen to gold.

Nature looks overgrown

and dusty, not quite under control,

ready to let it all go.

Autumn will cool this clamor,

then winter will settle it all

under a blanket of white.

Lainie Senechal