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Tag Archives: dVerse Poets Pub

Be Leaf

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autumn exhales a deep breath

as feeble leaves lose their grip

whispering sweet farewells

to nurturing limbs

I watch them cradle-rock

to the pulse of Mother Earth’s song

silently sweeping, weeping

but bravely repelling

the magnet of years past

finding new ways to grow

 

It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse Poets Pub.

Write a poem of 44 words not including the title, including the word “magnet”.

De is our host.

Gone

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how delicate is this life

that one word, one mis…step

the bending of one finger

can rip a hundred hearts apart?

the way the zephyr innocently snaps

a limb so sturdy lush and green

or the fate of the field mouse feasting on seeds

as red hawk’s talons take hold

the hiker’s boot carelessly crushing

the castle of the dawdling slug

or the fragile web that can only hold so much

of dawn’s dew drop tears

only love is infinite and still

time, thoughts, nature, earth…

everything else moves

everything else dies

 

 

 

For Open Link Night. Bjorn is our fearful leader and host as we go LIVE at 3 p.m. EST.

More details at dVerse Poets Pub.

mucked up

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you planted me

in richest soils

spoke in sunshine-lies

I smiled through shadows, weeds

naive to your gnarly roots

creeping ’round my garden-heart

I forgave the rain

again

ripping petals one by one

but God sees your ways

and I will bloom

without you

 

 

44 words of poetry including the word “garden”.

We are honoured to have Victoria C. Slotto hosting our Quadrille prompt.

Doors open at 3 p.m. EST.

dVerse Poets Pub

 

 

 

 

Image credit: pixabay.com

The Big One

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My husband asked me to pack a bag for an unknown destination. Meticulously sorting through my wardrobe, I consider every possible activity and climate. Will we swim? Hike? Dine casually? Upscale?  I pack my whole wardrobe.

We arrive at the U.S. border with all travel documents, including airline tickets, safely hidden from me, inside my husband’s leather jacket. It is still on the chilly side here. Spring has been teasing us, a matter of days ahead. He hands the customs officer our passports. “Where exactly are you headed to?”, he asks.  My husband takes out the printed tickets, places them in is hand and replies, “It’s a surprise for her birthday”. The customs officer looks closely at the tickets.  He bursts into a smile bigger than the tiny booth he is confined to. “Have a good time”, he says and waves us on.

The anticipation grows as we near the Detroit airport. We enter the terminal and I know this has to be the big reveal. I imagine the reaction of the airport attendant if I tell her I didn’t know where I was going. As I struggle to pull my overloaded suitcase towards the desk, my husband hands me my ticket.

VEGAS BABY!!

 

they say what happens

here stays, but I saw snowflakes

dance in the desert

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kim is our pub tender as we serve up some haibuns about birthdays.

dVerse Poets Pub

Haiku: At the Lake

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blankets of blues

summer in sapphire and teal

I breathe between hues

seven ride the waves

still nuzzled in mother’s wing

paddling seasons past

gliding on thermals

freedom to speak or squawk while

clouds only whisper

It is Open Link Night at

dVerse Poets Pub.

You can link up ONE poem of your choice.

I am your host and hope you will join us. Doors open at 3 p.m. EST

 

 

If He Is The Homeless

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Then we are the heartless
His eyes, cimmerian pools
Conscious waters we dare not tread
His words, rendered null and void
And so he holds the sign
Of failure, defined
As if guilty of existence
Beaten by this steel wool system
Of surface scratchers
Mirrored and jagged
Buffing them up
To send them back out

Dead people live on this street
Like the gray of pigeons, pecking
For rations of sweet sanity
Between dagger eyes
And swift kicks
Tears siphoned back from the edge
Hold more truth than sorrow
Tiny little diamonds
Of the highest clarity

Squinting, scanning for prospects
The sun exposes his lines
A tally of  tragedies
His glance, as empty as pockets
Races past the la-de-da
Seeking one heart, unbiased
One heart that drops the dollar
Without assuming it’s next exchange
And as it free falls to the pavement
He struggles to remember
How it felt to not be treated
Like a modern day leper

people-1010001_1280

 

 

 

Sharing a previously written piece that seems to resonate even stronger during these times.

Today you are invited to be LIVE via video for the first hour of OPEN LINK NIGHT at dVerse Poets Pub.

After Thursday ’s OLN, we will have our two-week summer break.

The dVerse bar will reopen on July 13th.

On Your Birthday

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Announced today, we can hug.

In the park, you watch a tiny chipmunk scamper up a tree.

A cool breeze blows through your longish, white hair.

I watch you smile.

 

clouds move for the sun

time slips through silver threads

nature’s drum beats on

 

 

A Quadrille for dVerse Poets Pub.

Write a poem of exactly 44 words including the word “drum”.

Doors open at 3 p.m. EST. Happy to be your host.

Hey You COVID

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you win

drafting me unwillingly

one more warrior

in a choke

….hold

I. could. die.

simply thinking about

the risk

you’ve offered me

on a silver platter

like the devil, sly

with guileful grin

but this fool isn’t your fix

I choose

to live

 

 

I am an RECE ( Registered Early Childhood Educator), “Educator” being the key word. Infants, toddlers and preschoolers learn through hands on exploration, purposeful play and socialization. In the midst of a pandemic, I will soon be expected to return to this environment where social distancing is not possible and little ones require close contact. I am not a health care worker but will be expected to assume the same risk. At 59, I am forced to decide between safety or an income. It haunts me daily.

 

 It’s Quadrille time at dVerse. De is our wonderful host.

The word is “fix” to be included in a 44 word poem.

 

image credit: pixabay.com

 

 

 

In Mid Flight

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stillness speaks

like a bird with a broken wing

the way of song, essential

the freedom to fall, forgotten

heaven is for real

we are but a coke machine glow

between darkness and light

 

 

Written for dVerse Poets Pub.

Bjorn has asked us to dust off some books to create some “spine poetry”.

 

Burgeon

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I am a seed

without a season

buried deep

in the cold compost

of my dreams

flood thirsty, time flushed

endless roots reaching

for the reason I rise

but I will not wilt

in recycled soils

I am hidden

only to surprise

the sun

 

 

It’s Quadrille time at dVerse. Pen us a poem of 44 words including the word “flush” or a derivative. I am your host. Doors open at 3 p.m. The prompt is open all week.

 

 

 

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

Picacho Peak

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after the climb

I rest

inhaling indigo

of cloudless skies

exhaling all but my soul

the sun is an ocean

wrapping me lukewarm

politely peeling the pieces

fears flaking

sorrows shedding

I lay them out

stone cold on the mesa

to wilt and wither

 

 

 

A “quadrille” consists of 44 words, not including the title. It is a favourite form over at dVerse Poets Pub. This week we are including the word “peel”. I am pleased to be your host. Feel free to join in. Doors open at 3 p.m.

Oh

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wednesday

you are the lump in my throat

my week-ness

nestling so comfortably

glowing, gloating

famed but feckless

fiddling between my thens and nows

cutting my life into uneven sections

of reveries and regrets

oh wednesday,

who gave you the honour?

 

 

 

In response to Sarah’s Poetics, “What Day is it Anyways?”

 dVerse Poets Pub

 

 

 

 

Let Me Burst Your Bubble

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what you don’t know

will hurt you anyways

because truth

is the only reality

the liar knows the truth

therefore the truth exists

it is never hidden

you carry on without knowing

but you are living within a lie

and that is pain….un-felt

a secret is a perspective

it’s an illusion, my friend

 

 

 

Merril is hosting Poetics this week and she has asked us to write about secrets.

dVerse Poets Pub

 

 

She Wondered

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“Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood: and how she would gather about her other little children, and make their eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long ago: and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days.”

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carol

 

 

 

and to wonder is everything

like water to the earth

nourishing you, levitating you

beyond what “is”

high above cinders of the past

into worlds where stars pop

as you poke at the sky

clouds sashay in colours you’ve

never seen but somehow

you know well

spirit animals appear

swirling, embracing

speaking your truth

joy is the flight path

of dandelion fuzz

the gleam of dragonfly wings

sorrows, unknown

slip deep into sunsets

dawn becomes another gift

another day to wonder

 

 

So happy to be hosting this week’s Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub, where we are using the “last lines” of books to spark our poetic muse. You are welcome to join us at 3 p.m. EST.

Image credit: pixabay.com

Southwest

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you are my green chile

kokopelli dream

soft sound of hiking boots

tapping on sandstone

my sun, uninterrupted

blessing mesas

the aqua blue of desert skies

set against canyons calling

in sacred language of silence

scents of cedar, earth and peace

you reset me

 

 

 

44 words is a quadrille, our original poetry form at

dVerse Poet’s Pub.

Merril is our host and the given word is “set”. Feel free to join in.

Microgravity

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-Dandelion – Beverly Dyer

 

time slips deep

into season’s end

autumn spins tales to me

       you

spin tales to me

we are seeds

catapulting

through the cosmos

at the speed of lies

majestically reckless

spinning further and further

from the light

      spinning further and further

from the truth

         spinning further

     and further….

 

 

For “Poetics” at dVerse Poets Pub, I am pleased to present the work of

Beverly Dyer

Join us in a collaboration of art and poetry!

Doors open at 3 p.m. EST.

Image: Etsy.com “Dandelion” by Beverly Dyer

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Water Play

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waves are winking, teasing

making my heart sing silly

each one feeding the void

I am soaked, featherweight

vulnerable, alive

this infinite lake

will swallow you whole

if you let it

I let it nibble

 

 

 

 

 

A pier in Lake Michigan. Key word “in” as the Great Lakes hit record high water levels. 

Join us for Open Link Night over at dVerse Poets Pub.I am your host. Doors open at 3 p.m. EST.

 

Maybe It Is

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My heart-voice lays low

Silent, frozen to the wall

Your actions, so perennial

Chatter again with my head-voice

A royal tête-à-tête over tea

I take mine black…and white

“You’re so vain”

Plays in the background

I bet you think this poem

Is about you

 

 

 

A quadrille for dVerse Poets Pub.

De gave us a “voice”, the word to include in our 44 word poems.

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

 

 

Ecocide

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“I am doing this because you adults are shitting on my future.”

“I don’t want you to be hopeful. I want you to panic. I want you to feel the fear I feel every day. And then I want you to act.”

– Greta Thunberg –

( Youth Climate Activist)

 

 

Does it take a child to save the world?

Or do we just wait for the big miracle

While earth stands stoic

In a silent sob of glacier tears?

Oceans choke on the overflow

Poli-puppeticians choke on their lies

We could die!

Yet we leave the mission to our young

While we sip the last grape

Feel sorry for the last polar bear

Stranded on the last slice of sea ice

 

 

In response to Anmol’s very thoughtful poetic prompt, “On Climate Crisis”.

You may be interested in more information about

  Greta Thunberg.  

Join us at

dVerse Poets Pub.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Terra Firma

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I have peddled my pain

to the wind

sifted and sorted my sins

burrowed down deep while

the storm passed

 

I am earth-toned and wild

nature’s own child

sun-smitten

star-bright and steadfast

 

made of blessings and blunders

I refuse to go under

this life was born of my rubble

I am not trouble

 

I am evergreen whispers

dewdrops at dawn

weaves of ivy out of control

sassy saplings, trees of old

I am whole

 

Originally written for “Women Speak”, a project by Nancy Smith.  I was inspired by her beautiful painting, “From the Depths of Earth”. To see more of her work, visit 

nancysmithfineart.com

Join us for Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub! I am your host.  

 

 

Return

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Follow me, child

Phoneless and free

Where earth sings

Songs of your roots

Ancient and pure

Pluck stars from indigo skies

Put them back into your eyes

Decorate your pale skin

In leaf shadows and sunlight

Relish in the riches

And blessings of nature

 

 

 

It’s Quadrille Monday and Kim is our host. She has offered us the word “rich” to incorporate into a 44 word poem, not including the title. Join in the fun!

dVerse Poets Pub

As Stars Go Dim

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Hope eludes her. Night embraces her. Like an old friend, it takes her by the hand to search for the light. Illusive. Dawn becomes the deadline for this decision, the last one she will make.

 

ink-shadows seduce

the sun rises unnoticed

over faded flower

 

 

 

A quadrille haibun for dVerse Poets Pub

image credit: pixabay.com

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-8255

 

Before

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Before you die

sit here, snug in my eyes

where love circles you

endless and time-capsuled.

Paint me pictures of you

in shades of words

I have never heard.. before.

Write me letters in the wind

when all I hear is the storm,

leave your kisses in the clouds

to fall like feathers with the rain

Please don’t ask me to explain

Before you die

sit here, snug in my eyes

 

 

For Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub.

Come join us! Doors open at 3 p.m. EST.

 

 

 

 

 

Strings Attached

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I look at a Facebook photo of a baby sleeping on the indentation of a guitar as his young father strums it quietly. I remember playing the guitar against my protruding belly when I was pregnant for each of my sons. More than sound, this was a bonding between two worlds, still unknown to each other. Love flowed through layers of skin and muscle with every note, every lyric carefully crafted from the wonder, anticipation and unity. This was and is my poetic hum.  I ponder the picture again, slightly worried about this tiny bundle nestled rather precariously in the crook of a wooden instrument. Could she slip off? Possibly…but only into loving arms.

 

love moves beyond walls

love is a constant murmur

love never silent

 

Written for Poetics ~ your poetic hum,

a thoughtful prompt by Gina at dVerse Poets Pub.

Join us!

 

Image credit: pixabay.com

https://www.faithpot.com/guitar-baby-naptime/

 

Captured

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And now she waits on corners, sold

Purity pilfered and pried apart

Silenced by the sting of biting cold

Slapping hands and tainted hearts

 

Purity pilfered and pried apart

Stone clouds creep over indigo skies

Slapping hands and tainted hearts

Repeat – she thinks she’d rather die

 

Stone clouds creep over indigo skies

Bentley slows, and window rolls

Repeat – she thinks she’d rather die

Desperate dreams of an undercover mole

 

Bentley slows, tinted window rolls

Hollow eyes attached to scum

Desperate dreams of an undercover mole

To save her soul, to take her home

 

 

Written for Poetry Forms at dVerse. This is an imperfect pantoum, which has the following pattern of repeated lines….ABCD, BEDF, EGFH, GIHJ.

The statistics for human trafficking are astounding…an issue not limited to particular countries or to females. It breaks my heart that humanity still struggles to evolve.

https://humantraffickinghotline.org/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

De Novo

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The view is woodsy from my favourite part of the couch. Streetlights are still on as dawn sheepishly reveals itself outside my window. I resent January with it’s epic entrance, bursting with expectations. It falls short in the shadow of Christmas and I see only grey. The dulling pavement of my street is a reflection of the skies above. Neutral and speechless. Blank and waiting. One grey squirrel clambers up and down the giant maple. I tap on the window. He looks at me curiously, then continues on his quest for hidden peanuts. Someone has been feeding him. I admire his fluffy tail and his simple life. My solitude is broken by that car with the noisy muffler and I wonder why Santa or someone similar did not replace it. I take another sip of tea, breathing in the new year.

 

sun in cloud coma

ashen earth begs for first snow

squirrel pays no mind

The Petrichor

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Turquoise skies blend into ebony

Over mesa horizons

Clouds give a glorious wink

Before caressing canyons

Raindrops tease in random spurts

Glossing earth’s parched lips

Dust rises in protest

Then succumbs to the deluge

Dampening desert dreams

I inhale the petrichor

And the moment

 

Its Quadrille time! Write a poem of 44 words, excluding the title. De is our host and her chosen word to include is “wink”. Join in the fun at dVerse Poets Pub.

Image credit: pixabay.com

Butt wait…

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Seduce me

In salt and pepper slag

Lipsticked and kissed

You are my swag

So sleek in cylinder fashion

Each one of you

My moment of passion

Ending just before

Your tones of terra cotta

 

Filter me

Just ever so slightly as I

In…..hale……slow…….ly

Incandescent in fire engine red

Kindled by each blazing breath

     Awwww

Silver flakes fall like snow

And I know

I loved you

Once

 

As a former smoker, I cannot tolerate the sight or smell of cigarettes.

Can you find beauty in the ugliness?

That is our challenge today at dVerse. You are welcome to join in at 3 p.m. EST

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

 

 

Apparently

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I am a gift

Of celestial descent

Partially unwrapped

Fearful of the flicker fading

Yet terrified of the light

How does one shine in the shadows

Cast of their own caliginous heart?

 

I am a question

Echoing in canyons barren

Bold and ambiguous

With no right to ask

Shall I wipe pure my thoughts

Bevel my edges

Sound the trumpet

At heaven’s gate

Or simply whisper in wonder

“Who is like God?”

 

 

We are writing poems inspired by the origin of our names. Amaya Engleking is our host! Doors open at 3 p.m. at dVerse Poets Pub.

My name is Michelle. I have incorporated two sources : the French meaning, “Gift from God” and the Hebrew origin meaning “Who is Like God?”


Image credit: pixabay.com

Not Until Nightfall

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Daydreams are only murmurs

Moments wasted

Wishes tossed and scattered

Do they ever really matter?

 

In the gloaming, my thoughts echo

Meticulous musing

Repetitive rants

This, my evening dance

 

Nightfall stars my skies in words

I pluck them one by one, as they become

My constellations, revelations

These are my epiphanies

 

 

 

For Open Link Night at dVerse .

You are welcome to link up one poem of your choice.

OLN opens at 3 p.m. EST.

I am you host!

 

 

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

Only Promises

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Sunflower stuns in season’s end

Transparent as secrets of summer

Undeniable beauty bows to earth

Vowing warily to return again

Woodpecker chuckles between mouthfuls

Xiphoid petals wilt and wonder

 

 

Lillian is hosting “Meeting the Bar” at dVerse.

She has asked us to write an “alphabet sestet” using a six letter sequence.

Feel free to join in!

 

Maritime

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In awe I stand

Feet steadied upon

Emerald cliffs

Inhaling breath of sky

Heart-quickened, earth-smitten

Tickle of sea mist on my tongue

I surrender thoughts to the waves

Trundle with ocean’s tide

Erasing all but this moment

Time still…. (passes)

Each second a blessing

 

 

Written for De’s Quadrille prompt , “Quick! Write Something!”   

dVerse Poets Pub

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cannikin

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Come closer

Lay your head on my chest

Hear the echo of my phantom heart?

Stone-cold and crumbling

Like the rust of my skin

Don’t come in

 

Come closer

Will you taste my hollowed kiss?

This abyss is my gift…to you

Love letters unwritten

Roses ripe of tarnished tin

Don’t come in

 

 

For Poetics at dVerse, we are writing from the perspective of three characters from The Wizard of Oz. Follow the yellow brick road with us!

Doors open at 3 p.m. EST.

 

 

 

Chimera

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From a window seat view

I watch clouds casting shadows

In puzzle-like fashion

Beauty mimicked from skies, majestic

To desolate, desert floors

In solitude they roam

Longing for home

I cushion them gently between

My thumb and pointer finger

Dreaming each piece into place

 

 

Its Quadrille Monday at dVerse Poets Pub and I am your host.

You are welcome to join in! Doors open at 3 p.m. EST.

Photo taken in flight over Nevada.

 

Stuck

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She spoke in scars

Bitterness of broken heart

Sailing with the undertows

Salty sting of ocean tears

Refreshing her pain

There was safety there

Reeling to the beat of

“It’s- not- my- fault”

Making peace with the fog

So she didn’t have to see

 

Sunlight beckoned but

She reveled in the rain clouds

Trading rainbows for permafrost

Frozen, hard fast in the loss

In time, she’d rewind in the wind

Dust off the grudge and wrath

Wipe the mist from the mirror

To see more than lines on her face

More than the misery of this place

Cue the music

And dance wildly to the light

 

 

I am hosting Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub. We are writing to “Life Lessons”. “What is one thing (or more) that you have learned that you feel could change another life? Well at least improve it.” Please share with us in a poem. There is still time to join in. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Minor Disturbance

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You speak in cloudbursts

Torrential tongue

Twisting words to suit your weather

I have news for you

The forecast isn’t bleak

The sky isn’t falling though you

May be chicken and I, little

Your drizzle will fizzle

And I can play in the rain

 

 

For Kim’s quadrille prompt over at dVerse Poets Pub.

44 words of fun using the word “rain”.

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

Quadriculous

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OH fuddle muddle

I’m in trouble

I should sciddle scaddle scuttle

The doohickey, the gobbley gook

Have taken me out for a loopy-de-loop

Ya think you know what I’m talking about

But you are stuck on a round-a-bout

Going round,

going round,

going round…..

 

44 words of pure nonsense. The word ” muddle” made me silly. You can join in with De’s favourite prompt over at d’verse and feel free to be more serious!

 

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

Fritter

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In wake of birth, we gather

Arms stretched, propitious

Trusting time

Love…. the cosmos

Writing our own scripts

Naming our own stars

In spite of our goods and grit

Our fate is universal

Collective souls we wander

Time-squandering fools

Tossing moments to the wind

 

 

A quadrille for dVerse Poets Pub. Lillian is our host and the prompt is open ALL week!  If you’d like to write a poem of 44 words including the given word “gather”, you are quite welcome to join in.

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

 

 

 

 

Too Late

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Warning: language

 

I googled you today

you were gone

I was wrong

to think that time was infinite

it was only imminent

this cancer, “fucking cancer”

would escort you out

without waiting one zippin’ minute

for thoughts to collect

memories to reflect

on your beautiful face

 

 

 

Written for the Quadrille prompt that De is hosting this week at d’verse Poets PubThe given word is “zip”. Somehow I managed to incorporate it as I struggle with the loss of a childhood friend.

 

No What If’s

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It all happens in

One unexpected trice

The way the wind catches the door

The instant the ocean bursts into art form

As it crashes against the reef

The fluke of snowflakes in April

Your heart gives you wings

Unpredictable things and you

Can either

…………..pause

watching them pass

Or leap

 

We welcome Merril as a new pubtender at dVerse Poets Pub, hosting our first Poetics for 2019!

She has asked us to “consider time and space and what if?” Join us!

Happy New Year!