The Dream

There sings a dream.

Its beauty transcribes
the moment,
the song,
and secures a promise.

In a meadow on the banks of the river,
it begins with a gathering.
It is a good song.

Copyright © January 2013

Created from The Book of Operas by Henry Edward Krehbiel

The Dream


Make a Change

New Years Eve at Mrs Macquarie’s Chair, Sydney. Picture: Stephen Cooper

Accentuate the positive
this year.
Don’t concede –
have a say.
You’ve got to be candid.
Express confidence –
Surprise the future,
for the future is liberal.

Copyright © December 2012 Norma Martiri

Taken from an article from The Sydney Morning Herald


A Splendid Summer

Poetry and Icecream


A splendid summer shone:
skies so pure;
suns so radiant.

A band of Italian days had come
like a flock of glorious passenger birds
and lighted to rest on the cliffs.
The fields were green and shorn;
hedge and wood, full-leafed.

Weary with gathering wild strawberries,
I sought the garden.

It was now the sweetest hour
and the sun had gone down
in simple state –
pure of pomp of clouds –
spread solemn purple,
burning red jewel
and furnace flame
extending high and wide,
over half heaven.

A rising solitary star
soon would boast the moon
yet beneath the horizon.

Copyright © December 2012 Norma Martiri

Form: Erasure Poem

Taken from my favourite book Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

Jane Eyre

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The Journey

Poetry and Icecream


The world belonged to him at night.
The moon was his lantern,
the stars his friends.
He was at home here.
He looked upon his kingdom.
Wayside fires were his altars,
smoke, incense to his gods.
He journeyed not knowing why.
He knew no reason for not journeying.
His vague imaginings swung along
until he saw the distant hill.

Copyright © November 2012 Norma Martiri

Form: Erasure Poem

Written for dVerse Poets Pub – Meeting the Bar: Erasure Poetry
Taken from Sundow Slim by Henry Hubert Knibbs

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Victoria C. Slotto, Author

It seemed to whisper,


Everything that had been a part of her.
Everything bound up
in her deepest roots.


Fear fell away, congealed.
Fear, frozen, oddly gentle,
like a baby rabbit in a trap.


The air, thick with feathers,
floated softly down.
Suddenly stilled.


This is an erasure poem, written as a response to Anna Montgomery’s prompt over at dVerse Form for All. You’ll enjoy learning all about this form and reading what other poets have created. I chose Mitchell’s Gone with the Wind opened to a page at random. The scene in play is that which occurs when the Union invades and sets fire to Tara. I first read this classic as a teen and again about twenty years ago.

The pub opens a 1500 EST…come on over.

Thank you, Anna.

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