Tag Archives: nature

OCEANS

I could become an ocean

If I unleashed the rivers of tears

Building behind eyes seeing,

Building behind ears hearing,

Building behind a mind

Buried in grief over what I find

Hidden within family and friends,

I thought were of a kind;

Who saw hate and felt repulsion,

Who heard lies and became disgusted,

Who watched inhumanity and scowled,

Who with outrage spoke aloud.

Instead, they smirk and smile,

And change the subject acting proud

To shut down discussion and discomfort at discussing hard truths.

Either they are in avoidance of discord;

Or worse, they approve of lies and hate,

And are simply happy to see hate flourish.

They are not the least discouraged.

I could become an ocean.

Instead, I check my emotion.

I seek to find some common ground.

Impossible when they shut all true conversation with me down.

Is this what pushes us apart,

a river of tears breaking canyon

walls of disagreement apart?

I could become an ocean

Washing them away as I allow

My tears to flow.

Until the valley of tears

Washes hate clear

And silts and nourishes the soil

That love may once again grow.

I could become an ocean.

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BALANCE OF POWER

Photo by Yan Krukau on Pexels.com

Nature restores balance

upset by human hands

on air and sea and land.

Government becomes unbalanced

when leaders fail to understand

no government can serve us

when controlled by a single man.

No single party can control

a seamless governance of the whole.

Power unbalanced is doomed to fail.

History and Nature tell the tale.

Diversity is the golden rule of life,

counteracting hidden strife

as it strives to interact and share

what keeps the planet alive and fair,

what makes us glad to be alive.

Cooperation is not just wise.

It is the seed of all that grows.

It is the only means Nature knows

to grow the wheat and the rose,

to water the farmland and dry the bog,

to cool summer heat and fire winter’s log,

to spread seeds on the breeze of dawn

and weight the wind blowing too strong.

We have run away from Nature far too long.

We have forgotten to listen to Nature’s song.


We have been singing a discordant tune

Photo by Kampus Production on Pexels.com

to instruments so loud, the song is ruined.

But Nature always restores balance.

It is the base note of Nature’s parlance.

Take off your shoes and walk in the grass.

Feel the freedom you feared lost in the past.

Turn your face into the wind and hold tight.

Feel the freedom you feared lost beyond your sight.

Wade in puddles catching raindrops on your tongue.

Feel the freedom you feared lost and with hands wrung.

We fear we have no way to save our nation.

But Nature gives us a new generation

every spring and through every season

Nature restores our world and our reason.

Balance of Power is the song of the hour.

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AUTUMN IS IN THE AIR

Acrylic on canvass, self-portrait, louise Annarino

Cold air is heavier.

Its density 

has a propensity

to hold us in place,

inside,

asleep.

It is enough

to make one weep

who loves the heat.

I welcome it

for its cooling property, 

its innate ability

to calm and soothe

the painful reality

of an overheated,

seemingly defeated,

world once at peace.

Oh, it was but a brief

moment in time

when hope was alive

and the country thrived,

and nations strived

to help democracy

overcome autocracy.

But, I digress

under great stress.

Cold air is weighted

with shards of ice

torn loose from northern fields,

with such power to wield

that it weighs down sunrise,

to no one’s surprise.

It puts the worker bees to sleep.

They awaken inside flowers

lacking the power

to find their way to their hives.

Cold air makes dreams

more difficult to bear,

their messages too heavily aware

of all the world’s problems

fair and unfair.

Autumn is here

and the world bows down

under the new weight.

Winter is not far away.

I cannot wait!

As sun rises the only sound

is the song of geese southward bound.

I place the heating pad round

a sore back from bending down

to plant bulbs squirrels have already found.

Soon, snow will coat the frozen ground.

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KEEP LAUGHING

Photo by Rodolfo Quiru00f3s on Pexels.com

Earth is laughing so hard 

she is holding her sides.

Her laughter has not died.

She holds it inside.

Too often, there is not a smile to be seen.

Comedians and laughter are under attack; 

sad attempt to kill laughter, it is true.

But, let me tell you

I awake every day with a smile on my face

and my mind full of plans and laughter as I cope;

planning strategies to keep us all woke

enough to strategize and energize

enough to keep Earth and our freedom alive.

I smile when I find new ways

to resist, persist and overcome

those who strive so hard to make us glum.

Where they see threat, I see possibility.

Where they feel fear, I feel connected community.

When they shout their pain, I shout my glee.

Earth trembles to keep her laughter inside

at the foolish ego-maniacal MAGA leaders’ pride.

Earth continues to teach us her lessons

with a smile on her face from sunrise to sunset.

Giving us the means to keep us alive, and all our needs met.

Balance and connection are what we need

to continue on the path to wealth without greed.

Intersected boundaries are what we need

to continue on the path to true peace.

This is Earth’s greatest gift: her instinctive ability

to make us laugh as we grow in humility,

knowing we cannot berate nor control

Earth’s power to grow, to heal and renew

the damage men and women unintentionally do.

I laugh aloud with Earth today.

Our guffaws and chuckles thrown out wide.

Come laugh with us, then; and hold your heaving sides.

Try to unbend and dry your eyes so you can see.

That laughter has not died, nor ever must.

Constant negativity has nowhere to go

except “dust to dust” buried below,

in the space laughter has made deep within Earth.

And once this doom and gloom comes to an end

the entire world united in mirth 

shall laugh once again.

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THE DAWN OF DISCONTENT

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Darkness has not yet lifted

from the night of a waning moon.

This is the time of discontent

when one feels most alone, but soon,

the sun shall rise.

Others choose to sleep through darkness.

I cannot. Like a lone wolf,

I choose to stay awake, woke to wonder

hidden in all I yet may discover

in people and places I have never known.

I plant seeds of yearning in my soul

that love may take root and grow

beyond my own cultural limits,

beyond the bounds of all I know.

I try to stay awake, though weary,

to watch the new day dawn.

As it surely will.

As it surely will.

As it surely will.

Turn three times and make a wish.

I wish to fearlessly face the heat of these days

with cool calm and laughter so strong

it awakens the entire world.

Will the new dawn reveal 

that which was destroyed

while an entire nation slept?

This question is what makes some people

sleep the whole day long.

Their eyes appear open, but they sleepwalk;

perhaps hoping they are dreaming

and the day is a mere nightmare

from which they will soon awake.

I cannot pretend. Not I.

Even in the dark my eyes open wide.

I must see what darkness has wrought.

I tend to the garden I have created,

to the life of growth I have sought,

as the sun rises over roots sorely stressed.

I cannot allow the plants, nor my self, to die

even though they can no longer thrive.

I am awake in the dark, but not alone.

So long as I see clearly, if not cheerily,

the life of other living things all around me

resisting the threat in the day ahead and hanging on.

Sensing our togetherness is what makes us strong.

I watch the discontented dawn.

The sun continues to rise.

As will you. As shall I.

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FORTUNE TELLERS

Photo by Davyd Bortnik on Pexels.com

Squirrels dance with abandon

to circadian rhythm

leaving behind all restraint,

and stashes of seeds and nuts

in unlikely places which

I shall discover in Spring.

Like gypsy fortune tellers

they scamper from one customer

to another predicting what is to come.

The plants seem to listen 

afraid not to learn their fate.

They wilt a bit and lose color

as their fortune unfolds.

Their worst fears make them bold.

They bloom twice as many flowers.

They turn every flower head to seed.

They will not be caught unaware

of warnings gypsy squirrels have brought.

Perhaps, their glory will fade.

But, all will not be lost.

The squirrels promise new life will appear

in old and new plots.

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ART THERAPY& Haiku

Letting Go of the Old, acrylic on canvass, Louise Annarino, March 2025
Trump Speaks at DOJ, acrylic on canvass, Louise Annarino, March 2025

When things are too hard

to take, take to creation

within and without.

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IF ONLY

If only I were a bird

Fluffing feathers to increase my girth

And insulate my true worth

Staying warm this way instead,

Despite the bitter cold and dread.

But I am no bird. I am but a girl

Old enough to know better

On such bitterly cold days,

Watching my freedoms iced over,

Under Nazi salutes

And executive dis-orders.

Instead of fluffing feathers

I reach for carbs to increase warmth

And fill a need birds too feel

When cold grips the air we breathe

And hot words blow smokily

To cover the lies and foolery

Meant to limit our ability to fly.

We have a lot in common, the birds and I.

We are both on endangered species lists,

Fearing our days of flying free are numbered.

We both try to increase in size

That we may create warmth and strength inside,

And fool bullies not so wise,

Who would block our way

On freedom’s journey to better days.

If I were a bird, could I simply fly away?

Instead, I wait and fuel my body.

I wait in trust for better days.

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WRITING

Photo by Keenan Constance on Pexels.com

“Start writing” the app says.

So easy is it to reveal

The secret places in the heart,

The solemn vaults in the mind,

The wounded spaces in the body?

Think that is not a really big deal?

Hiding from self seems the norm.

For a very good reason

From the day we are born.

First we must grow into one we know

Can protect and defend

The one we hide deep below.

What risk writers take to open wide

A self hidden and safeguarded inside.

Risk is too small a word for the task

Of showing self vulnerable, anxious, naked at last;

seeking connection inside you, with words that will last.

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LATE SUMMER DAZE

LATE SUMMER, acrylic on canvass by Louise Annarino, 2024

The shades of summer pull slowly closed.

Sun drops quietly behind.

Shadows lengthen across grass carpets

moistened by the dew of cool nights

and warm days peaking through.

Autumn is on her way to paint

hot colors against cool blue skies.

Summer still lingers behind the shade

ready to surprise 

with summer heat intent

on a hot reprise.

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