Alone

Tags

ocean, poem, Poetry, poetry writing, sunburn, walking at the beach

Alone

I remember looking through strawberry lemonade,
as the sun set in June. The water almost stationary
while the ripples slowly worked their way up the sand.
Even the seagulls were silent that afternoon.
I was alone. Watching, walking and waiting.

The pinky-orange sky darkened as the sun
fell behind the skyline. I felt the
aftermath of lingering prickles — jeering blisters upon my skin
reminding me that I should have used sunscreen.
I was alone. Watching, walking and wandering.

 

Copyright©2015 CarlaIacovetti

Books

Tags

bedtiime stories, books, poem, Poetry, reading, writing

Books birth new beginnings.
Moments perhaps less-lived, or by no means lived–
Adventures of the mind bound together by glue
With a pretty picture or two.

The great escape from life’s unpleasantness
When stormy skies refuse to let the sun shine,
And fairness is non-existent amid supposed freedom
Whereby all men are created equal.

Changed perspectives immersed in fables–
Stories whether whimsical or true, create
Variety for less desirable, melancholy moments
Eradicating despondent dispositions.

Sometimes, moods are less altered
And sulking is the outcome of a dreadful read
When relief is nowhere in sight —
It might be a sign to turn out the light!

Copyright©2013 CarlaIacovetti

A Glance

Tags

attraction, chemistry, creative writing, love, poem, Poetry, writing

Eyes fixed…
engaged and motionless
giving way to a rush of color,
where the word blush
takes on innovative meanings,
and the connection made
is unforgettable.

Two souls, stationed erect
face new emotions.
Impossible to ignore the
hurried beats,
and the sensation
of messages given
in a glance.

Copyright©2013 CarlaIacovetti

The Simple Things

Tags

creative writing, friendship, poem, Poetry, writing

Sometimes
when everything is gray
a simple smile
will help push the clouds away
and when there is a chill
in the air,
the warmth
of a friendship offered
cannot be compared.

Copyright©2013 CarlaIacovetti

As The Sun Sets

Tags

creataive writing, poems, Poetry, writing, writing poetry

…the sky is the color
of strawberries
picked
a little before their prime,
and the water below
yields a calm
casting
shadows of trees
on this darkening sea
as the sun slowly
drops behind the horizon.

Copyright 2013 Carla Iacovetti

Ship of Tides

Tags

creative writing, poem, Poetry, poetry writing, sailing, writing

Lured by a gentle breeze, the firmament
blue made way for the promise
of a calming afternoon.

I set out for the oceans edge, laced by
dunes of sand and a Ship of Tides rolling
in and out, while the sounds of sea life–
natures cries echo loudly in my ear.

Serene settings for repose amid busy
reality, where active hours lay hold, often
interrupting solitude.
Dozing is certain.

Carried off, away I go
into a world of
gray matter slumber–
upon your deck, Ship of Tides,
swaying back and forth
with every wave crash.

Skin resembling baked leather,
scorched by unblocked luminous
sunlit rays caught me unaware,
in my moment of doze. OUCH!

Off in the distant horizon,
far removed, the outline of
your splendor, silhouetted
against a backdrop of the
setting sun.

I remember your beauty
hidden in desire; Ship of Tides–
you forever sail in and out of my mind.

Snow

Tags

nature, poem, Poetry, poetry writing, snow, winter, writing

Crystalline symmetry
creating winter wonderment
through the ages
mesmerizing all.

Free-falling snow
in precise order
covering the earth
with white —

Surely, there is no other sight,
as we have been captivated and
wooed by powdery ice.

©Copyright2013 Carla Iacovetti

My Version of Fall

Tags

autumn, Carla Iacovetti, creative writing, fall, poem, Poetry, Santa Barbara, seasons, squirrels, summer, sunshine, writer, writing

The morning sun shone brightly
through the uncovered paned window;
a site not uncommon this time of year.

For a moment, I had forgotten
that the season shifted, and summer
was fading to a distant memory—

but then fall in Santa Barbara
could fool a fox.

Sun glistened through trees green,
leaves swayed to breezy melodies
as temperatures rose to 80 degrees.

Everything was going along fine.

The smell of sizzling meat
on my neighbors grill
further added to my forgetfulness.

I suppose it was the gnawing sound
of teeth chattering
that woke me from my dream.

Walking toward the window,
I watched acorns rain down
from the tall tree above.

Then dashing through the fallen leaves
wide tails flashed and the sounds of loud kuks—
conversations between two squirrels

fighting over a fallen acorn,
reminded me that
summer had passed.

Copyright 2013 CarlaIacovetti

Running

Tags

dream chasers, life, over-achiever, poem, Poetry, self-serving, writing

                                                   Why

are you running so quickly through life?

Climbing every mountain—

Fording every stream—

Looking for every opportunity,

Chasing every dream.

 

Disconnected from passion

You hurl people like obstacles

And look to the safe side of life

In your self-serving world.

 

Breathless from perpetual motion

Like a mouse on a wheel

You scurry after every promotion

Always looking for a better deal.

 

Relationships are kept distant—

Convenient and superficial,

Heartfelt emotion is nonexistent

In the world you’ve shaped.

 

                                                   But,

life is much more than running,

And chasing every dream

One day you’ll wake up—

To realize all is not as it seems.

 

So before the sand in the hourglass

Slips from your being,

Slow down and take a look at

Life’s deeper meaning.

Copyright2012©Carla Iacovetti

 

The River

Bouncing over rocks,

The river moves in rhythm

Pushing obstacles out of the way,

While remnants float at the sidelines.

 

Silent, these bruised artifacts slowly drift—

Downward they go, lost and alone

Forever roaming far away from home,

As memory fades to black.

 

The river does not apologize

Nor make exceptions, but

Runs its course, rushing as

If it is ruled by time,

 

And ever-increasing rapids ensure

The impending drop—

As whitewater gurgle

Bends us through life.

 

Copyright2012©CIacovetti