On Long Island, Walt Whitman is revered as a beloved poet. There is a shopping center, road, and high school named after him. The Walt Whitman Birthplace State Historic Site and Interpretive Center is located here also. I have always said that I would visit but never have. Perhaps, this summer will be a good time to see what the site has to offer.
In February, I participated in Laura Shovan's #10FoundWords project and created a poem based on the NY Times article, In a Walt Whitman Novel, Lost for 165 Years, Clues to ‘Leaves of Grass’. As per the guidelines, the following words were to be used to create a poem: tale, lost, transformed, discover, simmering, bright, chanting, complete, magical, bonus word: poet.
Below is my humble offering, a Whitman-like poem that is based on summer in Long Island:
Ah, what can be more magical to a chanting poet than Long Island's south shore?
Sand imprinted footsteps and fluid, rolling tides?
Willowy reeds swaying against cloud-patterned skies?
Baby gulls waddling in a single row,
dodging rollicky waves with mother in tow?
Sand-castle art with muddy moats
brightening the beach until tides take afloat?
Seagulls swerving, sweeping up lunch,
hopping along with a swift, fierce crunch?
Tales of lost flip flops and goggles galore
from simmering bodies at the sandy shore?
The magic of morning's brilliant bright sights
transforming evening to sunset's dusky light?
Ah, what can ever be more lovely to me than Long Island in summer?
©Carol Varsalona, 2017
Fire Island in summer
Venture over to Today's Little Ditty where Michelle Heidenrich Barnes is hosting the Poetry Friday Round-up. She is showcasing the work of a gentle woman, Lily Yeh, and her Barefoot Artists, Inc. project that "brings the transformative power of art to impoverished communities around the world."
In February, I participated in Laura Shovan's #10FoundWords project and created a poem based on the NY Times article, In a Walt Whitman Novel, Lost for 165 Years, Clues to ‘Leaves of Grass’. As per the guidelines, the following words were to be used to create a poem: tale, lost, transformed, discover, simmering, bright, chanting, complete, magical, bonus word: poet.
Below is my humble offering, a Whitman-like poem that is based on summer in Long Island:
Ah, what can be more magical to a chanting poet than Long Island's south shore?
Sand imprinted footsteps and fluid, rolling tides?
Willowy reeds swaying against cloud-patterned skies?
Baby gulls waddling in a single row,
dodging rollicky waves with mother in tow?
Sand-castle art with muddy moats
brightening the beach until tides take afloat?
Seagulls swerving, sweeping up lunch,
hopping along with a swift, fierce crunch?
Tales of lost flip flops and goggles galore
from simmering bodies at the sandy shore?
The magic of morning's brilliant bright sights
transforming evening to sunset's dusky light?
Ah, what can ever be more lovely to me than Long Island in summer?
©Carol Varsalona, 2017
Fire Island in summer
This post is the tenth in a series titled March Musings
for Two Writing Teachers' March Slice of Life Challenge.
Venture over to Today's Little Ditty where Michelle Heidenrich Barnes is hosting the Poetry Friday Round-up. She is showcasing the work of a gentle woman, Lily Yeh, and her Barefoot Artists, Inc. project that "brings the transformative power of art to impoverished communities around the world." 
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