Pool of Poetry

 

My pen is poised

over this yellow pad

like a heron's beak

above the river's surface.

Ready to plunge

for a choice word

swimming in the dark water.

Probing the possibilities,

within the pool of poetry.

© 2026 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations: 

1. North Fort Myers, Florida

2. Rogue River - Rockford, Michigan

Quiet Hope

 

My words do not

crash from the clouds

and rumble like thunder

echoing in the atmosphere.

My words arrive silently;

like the sound of petals

curling open to reveal

the essence of the flower.

Like the soundless rise

of the morning sun

birthing a new day

with the soft music of poetry.

Silent treasures

brought into the light of today.

Carrying the quiet hope

of one more tomorrow.

© 2026 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. 2. 3. Balloon Flower -Home Garden - Cannonsburg, Michigan

 

The Poetry of Water

 

It's difficult to translate

the meaning of words

the mountain stream carries

as it hurries through the canyon;

bashing big boulders,

splashing through the rapids.

Elsewhere, the poetry of water slows

and swirls into clear pools;

transparent with nuance,

tranquil with meaning.

I kneel for a closer look.

Fine grasses and golden sky light 

reflect on the smooth surface.

Through the clear lens of water

I examine the bottom of the pool

and read in the rippled sand

the words collected there:

Slow down. Be still.

Observe the smallest

contours of creation.

But this poem 

does not end

here.

© 2026 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. Arkansas River - Buena Vista, Colorado

2. Rocky Mountain National Park - Colorado

3. Santa Catalina Mountains - Arizona

 

 

After She Left

 

Dusk sneaks up on me,

creeps onto these pages

I'm trying to read

from Donald Hall's poetry.

His wife, poet Jane Kenyon, is dying.

Their future together looks dark;

but their love is a bright fire

burning with intensity.

He promises to keep

the remaining embers

glowing forever

in his plaintive heart.

So he wrote letters to her,

and wrote poems about her,

for many years

after she left.

© 2026 Richard Havenga

 

Photo Locations:

1. Grattan Township - Kent County - Michigan

2. Lafayette, Colorado

Avoiding Rhyme

 

Writing free verse poetry

is mostly about finding

the preferred word,

and avoiding the rhyme

most of the time.

Sometimes it works out,

but when you're about

to end a line, another word

enters your surprised mind.

So I just go with the flow

and let the poem grow,

knowing that soon

I'll have to prune.

Or start all over again,

and trace where I've been.

Amen.

© 2025 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. White Sands National Park, New Mexico

2. Home Garden

3. Home Library - Cannonsburg, Michigan

Poet Trees

 

I have removed the obstacles.

Tossed aside the branches and sticks.

Raked away the fallen debris.

And now the trail is smooth for you.

Won't you please enter my poet trees?

The words are clear and accessible.

The light shimmers through the trees.

An inviting path of discovery;

a gift for you,

from me.

© 2025 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. Ohio Creek Pass - Crested Butte, Colorado

2. Snake River Overlook - Grand Teton National Park - Wyoming

Until

 

The farther up this trail I go,

the fewer people I see,

until I'm in the company of quiet.

Until I reach this rushing stream

and sit on a boulder to listen

to the talking waters.

Studying the current

rolling over rocks,

bending around boulders.

Silver veins of water

tumbling in turmoil,

falling freely with grace.

Until these words

 flow into lines

of liquid poetry.

© 2025 Richard Havenga

Photo Location: Yellowstone National Park

Starter Words

 

I scribble a few starter words

onto this empty yellow page.

Black letters across blue lines

awaiting a sense of direction.

Hungry for a hint, an indication,

or some subtle suggestion

on where to go, how to proceed.

Then I decide to stop and read:

Kenyon* and Kooser*,

Stafford* and Stafford* for starters.

© 2025 Richard Havenga

* Jane Kenyon

*Ted Kooser

*William Stafford

*Kim Stafford

You may also like:  "Hovering Pen"

Morning Hours

As the autumn sun is rising,

often crimson or golden,

I'm in my writing chair

in our cozy library,

looking out the window

for new ideas, for a few

words to come together.

These few, precious hours

allow me to observe the way

the American Beech leaves

first begin to shuffle,

or the way the ambitious wind

tears the remaining  leaves

from these broad White Oaks.

Most days, these morning hours

are fruitful and fulfilling,

and I am grateful

for the enrichment

as I press pen to page,

collecting fragments;

finding my poetry.

© 2024 Richaard Havenga

Watching Leaves Blow

 

Writing words of poetry

is like watching 

autumn leaves blow

during October's final days.

I try to catch a few

when I'm running

as they fall through the sky.

It's not easy to predict

where they'll fly to,

or where they will land.

Sometimes they hit me

square in the face.

© 2024 Richard Havena

Ten Years from Today

 

If I live to be eighty-six,

or possibly beyond,

I often visualize

our only daughter Sarah,

when she comes to visit,

(who is a good writer),

offering to read to me

the poems I've written

in these later years of my life.

I'll listen to her soothing voice,

her natural intellect,

her excellent annunciation,

her perfect pronunciation,

and her musical mind

reading my words back to me.

I'll ask, "Did I write that?"

"Yes Daddy, when you were seventy-six."

Then she'll show me my photographs

that helped to illustrate my words.

Then she will say:

"This is good stuff Daddy.

You could still write poetry today."

And she'll hand me a pen and paper.

© 2024 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. Ludington State Park - Michigan

2. Rocky Mountain National Park - Colorado

My Middle Name

 

I'm seventy-five years old.

This is the middle

of the eighth decade

I've been blessed to live

on this beautiful earth.

The morning hours

of writing poetry

have been fulfilling and fruitful.

These past twelve years

passing too swiftly.

I am enriched every day

by observations of nature.

Grateful to God the Creator

for sensory awareness,

and for the freedom to explore. 

I am

accepting the past,

living in the present,

and anticipating the future

when I'll be running and writing.

My middle name is Gratitude.

© 2023 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. Canyonlands National Park - Utah

2. Home Deck - Cannonsburg, Michigan 

3. Butonbush - Kent County - Michigan

4. Rocky Mountain National Park - Colorado

Nectar of the Soul

 

When you take the time

to read my poetry,

I hope you find some

nourishment for your soul.

I've planted the words,

nurtured the lines,

pulled the weeds,

watered and fertilized,

through revisions

you cannot see.

And when the fruit is ripe,

may you taste the sweetness

that I intended during its growth.

And now, could you please share

this nectar of the soul?

© 2023 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. & 2. Kropf Orchards - Kent County - Michigan

Clouds of Poetry

 

The sky-blue sky

reads like a sentence from summer,

punctuated with commas of cumulus.

The sky-blue lake

collects the scroll of clouds

on its mirrored surface.

I'm floating in my kayak

on the sky-blue sky,

paddling between clouds of poetry.

Then the wind exhales

and brushes the clouds

into ripples of scribbles.

© 2023 Richard Havenga

Photo Location:

McCarthy Lake - Kent County - Michigan

 

Voyage

 During these earthly years

that we have spent together

on this lovely planet;

I want to thank those readers

who have respected and accepted

my ventures to share what I feel

through this voyage of poetry.

I hope that some of my words

may have satisfied a longing

unveiled within your soul.

I will continue to press down

with this pen in my hand,

a good measure of love

and gratitude to the Giver.

 © 2022 Richard Havenga

Photo Location: Home Deck ~ Cannonsburg, Michigan

Keepers of the Past

 

These separate words

become lines of poetry

floating across blank pages

like leaves on the river.

Paper-clipped together

to be reviewed again,

to be revised again,

released in the future.

Eventually assembled

into a discernable

current of perception.

Poets are keepers of the past

and our hope for the future.

© 2022 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations: 

1. Grand River - Kent County - Michigan

2. Murray Lake - Kent County - Michigan

3. Fallasburg Park - Lowell, Michigan

4. Cannonsburg, Michigan

Finding Poetry II

 

Once again, 

I'm driving these country roads,

following the curves, 

the backroads of my mind;

hoping to discover

new images that can fill

the pages of my notebook.

I will stop often,

get out of the truck,

and use my camera.

Walking slow, I notice more.

Stopping often, I absorb

the secrets of the land.

Collecting fragments

and intricate details,

I begin to find my poetry.

© 2022 Richard Havenga

You may also like: "Finding Poetry" - December 23, 2019 

Photo Locations:

1. Crested Butte, Colorado

2. Louisville, Colorado

3. Sonoita, Arizona

4. Canon Township - Kent County - Michigan

Without a Map

 

I think I'll drive West

without a map.

After rolling over the prairies,

I'll hit the Rocky Mountains.

Then, maybe I'll take a right, and

head for the Snowy Mountains in Wyoming.

After that, perhaps a left

to search for a quiet cove

in the Grand Tetons.

Maybe I'll camp for a few days,

maybe I'll camp for a week.

Photograph the moose browsing

along the Snake River.

Watch the Pronghorn prancing

through the sagebrush,

kicking up dust with their hooves.

Write a few lines

in my poetry notebook.

© 2022 Richard Havenga

1. Tie Siding, Wyoming

2. Rocky Mountain National Park - Colorado

3. & 4. Grand Teton National Park - Wyoming

5. Home Deck - Cannonsburg, Michigan