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Tag Archives: dVerse Poet’s Pub

Life Takes Off His Mask

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and my normalcy stands naked

against alien stars

and virgin skies

earth speaks of simpler things

in archaic tongues as

cinders of the commonplace

lie blatantly at my feet

She offers me seeds I don’t remember

I plant them in empty gardens

unbeaten paths

timeless, rich soils, untouched

by my aching body, my weary mind

I kick the ashes

desperate to stir the life I knew

but ashes fade fast

into the light

 

 

 

Written for Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub in response to a quote by Mizuta Masahide

“Barn’s burnt down, now I can see the moon”

In these unfamiliar times, as pieces of our regular life break away, what do you see?

Share your own personal epiphanies in a poem. Doors open at 3 p.m. I am pleased to be your host.

 

 

 

 

And Now

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when I hear thunder

I remember the end

of what we knew, the day that

polished pearl of a moon told us ALL

there is to understand while

every tree spoke at once and

there you were trying to silence them

with your arms flailing like a madman

thinking the earth spoke your

language as clouds rolled in laughter

because we all (should) know that

universal truth cannot be heard with

deaf ears and so many

tongues a twisted, so then

we sifted through the ruins

of you and me

searching for truths

that had buried themselves alive

but I’ve never once forgotten

that day or the decay

and the way it ended

and

started again

and ended

 

For Amaya’s prompt, “MTB: The Death Sentence” over at dVerse Poets Pub.

A very unique and challenging prompt.

This World

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This world is a heart
fed from the nuzzle of a mother’s breast.
Its murmur is a father’s gentle song,
one whose arms reach out before a fallen
tear can bury itself in the sand.

Its arteries are our highways, as
opaque as they are to the earth beneath,
without them, are we not pigeons without wings,
moths without a moon?

The blood is love. But blood isn’t love.
No, if we take in one as our own,
it does the same. The world took us in
so long ago.

 

Join us at dVerse Poets Pub as we imagine our own world.

The sky’s the limit..or is it? It’s my pleasure to be hosting this week’s Poetics.

Doors open at 3 p.m.

Image: pixabay.com

Euphony

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the world is in our hands

is it not a gift?

a blank sheet

to compose symphonies

of grace,

one cosmic chorus

born of our own untainted hearts?

let us not be mute

but join in songs of light

when evil seeps

through cracks

 

 

A quadrille for dVerse Poets Pub.

De has given us the word “crack” to incorporate into our 44 word poems. Join us!

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

 

Midsummer

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I remember swaying to the cricket beat

As midnight moon spilled her light

Grass-tickled, pickled with dreams

Free falling into the raven-black night

 

Dreams fizzle and fade like stone-grey tides

I am still star-stunned, staring at the skies

And as I embrace this velvety void

My heart will still dance with the fireflies

 

 

“Darkness came, full of moths and beetles. I was oppressed by the velvety emptiness of the word and swathes of soft grass. Then the fumes of the night put me to sleep”

– As I walked out one Midsummer morning –

Laurie Lee

 

A late response to Laura Bloomsbury’s Poetic prompt,

” Literary Alchemy with Laurie Lee”.

I am pleased to be your host for Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub.

Share one poem and indulge in the wonderful work of other poets.

 

 

 

Timeless

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I remember your tightwad grin

words sparingly spewed

because you knew…

what?

always something more than I

sly, slithery somethings

hiding in the corner of your lips

now I sip on the memories

of a girl, rootless, wavering

waiting desperately

for her father’s approval

 

 

 

I am hosting the Quadrille prompt this week over at dVerse Poets Pub. Doors open at 3 p.m. E.S.T. You can join in too with your 44 word poem, including the word “sip”.

 

 

Reflections of Mary – A Sonnet

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This wild and precious life, you spent lonely

Foraging mushrooms, blackberries…and words

Still you have me pondering not only

On the calm of nature and nature stirred

But on the very essence of each breath

As trees speak my truth in leafy tongues, slurred

The sun meets my skin with every step

And the blue rain beats with my heart, broken

I’ve treasured your thoughts about life and death

Listened to canyons speak the unspoken

I have studied art on the earth’s floor

Weightless as the willows, with mind open

One with the animal spirits, I soar

Your words waxing with the moon evermore

 

 

(For Open Link Night and a late response to Jilly’s Enjambment in Sonnets, part of the Poetry Form challenge at dverse Poets Pub.)

Notes: I chose the Terza Rima form for this piece, consisting of a ABA BCB CDC DED EE rhyme scheme, adding a splash of enjambment. Since the thoughts of each tercet often flow into the next, I decided on leaving no line breaks between them. However, it could be edited into defined tercets, ending with the couplet to present it in traditional terza rima form. I would have to admit that the volta is not emphasized. I simply wanted to pay tribute to the late Mary Oliver, her love and insight of nature and how it has resonated with my own perspectives of life.

 

 

The Shallows

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I gather dreams here

where withered leaves lay steepless

seesawing on the surface

of the pond

blue heron freezes for the hunt

I watch his stilt legs bend slightly

swift snap, a sun-blessed breakfast

fish wriggles before the great swallow

my dreams are cast

 

 

It’s Quadrille time at dVerse Poets Pub. I am pleased to be your host as we “steep” 44 words into a poem. Join us at 3 p.m. EST

 

Dear Luna

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Into the night I wait for muse of moon

The stars arrange a symphony of silence

I tinker, tally words and thoughts but soon

Dear Luna slips between the haze, defiant

 

From hinterland the owl bestows a hoot

That echoes in the forests of my mind

I wait for inspiration to take root

As Luna slumbers deep beneath the skies

 

When midnight mocks the cursor on my page

I revel in the balladry unborn

Though constellations, cryptic they may fade

‘Tis hope that lights the way of the forlorn

 

Dear Luna stirs behind her quilt of clouds

She scatters dreams for me to read aloud

 

 

Written for “Poetry Forms”, a dVerse Poets Pub project.

This is my offering of a sonnet in Shakespearean style. The rhyme scheme is ABAB CDCD EFEF GG.  The structure consists of 3 quatrains, followed by one couplet. The “volta” occurs in the 12th line . I focused on the iambic pentameter and rhyme. Quite the challenge. You can learn more about this form as Bjorn describes in further detail here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Human Equation ~ A Sonnet

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“Where there is righteousness in the heart, there is beauty in the character. When there is beauty in the character, there is harmony in the home. When there is harmony in the home, there is order in the nation. When there is order in the nation, there is peace in the world.”  ~A. P. J. Abdul Kalam ~

 

 

Has God given up on us? Does he weep?

I listen for him in the moon shadows

Dew droplets at dawn, in earth’s gentle sleep

 

Where is the light we were born to embrace?

I sift through the compost of dreams rotted

In darkest alleys, I search for His face

 

Why do we build our own prisons of fear?

Humanity’s keys we hold in our hands

Intentions perish with the silt of tears

 

Do we have the right to ignore our own hearts?

Were they not the gifts of the righteous souls?

Far be it for us to tear them apart

 

Stir gently the pot of evolution

Ignite the flame of a resolution

 

 

Written for a special Poetry Form prompt at dVerse. Bjorn starts us off with some helpful information on sonnets and some exciting news! Doors open at 3 p.m.EST.

  I decided to use the structure of a Terza Rima with 4 tercets and a couplet , but I wandered from the rhyme scheme. Mine is  ABA CDC EFE GHG II.  Oh my, perhaps I shall stick to free verse?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Beyond the Fog

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like-air-i-rise-from-the-4-elements-september-prompt-102x200.jpg

“Like Air, I Rise” – Nancy Smith

She was tied and tethered to the words at her back
Like daggers, chiseling holes into her heart
One foot forward
The other melded in familiar ground
She settled for the grey of days passed
Pining for the glorious “at last” that never came
Time capsuled, she waited for someone,
Some thing to brush off the dirt of yesteryears

Jaded
She faded
Into the darkness of candles never burned
Under the bellies of stones never turned
She lost her light
She lost her fight

Rise up, beckoned her soul
Rise up
This day as new as dawn’s embrace
Unleash the anchor that you have built
Link by link….. before
you
sink

With strength, with courage, with grace
She faced the fear that bound her fate
In one moment chosen to change
Throwing her briny tears to the rain
She stood poised and prepared
With feathered weight and opened arms
One leap
Into the unknown

Image credit:  nancysmithfineart.com

It’s Open Link Night over at dVerse Poets Pub! 

Post one poem of your choice. I am your host. Hope you can join us.

It was an honour to participate in “Women Speak”, a unique project by Nancy Smith. This was a poem that I submitted in response to her gorgeous piece, “Like Air, I Rise”.

Southport

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It is our first morning in Newfoundland. We settled in late, the night before to an eclectic vacation rental in the small community of Southport. Population 40. We want to experience the true local life of the most eastern province of Canada. I open the door to see our surroundings in daylight, barely breathing the salty air on the bay, when I hear the sound of a four wheeler, kicking up gravel in it’s path. A middle-aged man stops in front our door. “Hello! How are you doing? Staying at Peggy and Viv’s are ya?” He shares stories of the land, the people and the fishing industry. He says he will never leave “the rock”, this magnificent island we’ve come to explore. He’s ventured out to bigger dreams and cities, but this is home. It’s different here. He’s already convinced me it’s better here. He offers a word of advice to us. “Don’t worry about crossing boundaries or walking across the neighbour’s properties. The worst thing that can happen is they’ll invite you in for tea.”

My eyes wander a bit to take in my surroundings. Colourful little buildings called “stages”. Rocky shorelines and fog in the distance. He tells us of a 90 year old woman visiting the area. She asked him to take her out on the ocean to see the sights and he willingly obliged. Then his voice becomes shaky with emotion. “She said to me, ‘Now I have seen heaven.'” He puts his hand on his heart. “I will never forget her face and those words”, he says. I get the same lump in my throat, feeling the sincerity in his eyes. The conversation brings me back to a place of genuine simplicity. This is why I am here.

 

fresh breeze of August

eagle basks in morning sun

feathers set aglow

 

 

 

 

It’s Haibun Monday, everyone! The theme is “morning”. Hope you can join us at dVerse Poets Pub

I am your host and the prompt is open all week.

 

Claustrophobic

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Enclosed I am

Airless, breathless

Must confess to senseless

Gasping, panting,

Mindless ranting

One… two….breathe

I can’t control

The heart rush

Too much

Tightening, fear frenzy

Heightening

I can’t breathe

Just breathe

I’m boxed in, locked in

With no escape

Now I hyperventilate

 

In response to De’s Quadrille prompt at dVerse Poets Pub. Join in with us at 3 p.m. EST. Write a 44 word poem that must include the word “box”.

Nookwezigan (Smudge)

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For many years, I worked on a First Nations reserve. It was part of my job to become familiar with some of the Ojibway language and culture and to promote it within a daycare setting. Native American customs and spirituality have always intrigued me and still do. The legends and rituals shared with me by my co workers opened my mind to other ways of thinking. I admire the simplicity of thought and their many symbolisms of nature.

While attending a Native Early Childhood conference, I chose a workshop involving an outdoor excursion. We slowly climbed a steep, grassy hill, leaving gifts of tobacco along the way for ” the little people”. At the top we rested on large rocks and meditated on a breathtaking view of the valley below.  When we returned to the community center we sat in a circle to be “smudged”. Nervously I anticipated my turn as a seashell with burning sage was passed around the group. I watched as each of my native colleagues stood one at a time, directing the pungent smoke towards their body with beckoning hands. Drawing it close and gently pushing it away. Cleansing themselves of negative energy. I was welcomed into the ceremony, treated no differently than the rest. As I embraced the smoke I believed what they believed. This was healing.

 

bashkodejiibik

i am not Anishinaabe but

mino giizhigad

 

Translation:

sage

i am not native but

it’s a nice day

 

Written for Paul’s poetic prompt, “Medicine” over at dVerse Poets Pub.

 

 

 

Chapel of the Holy Cross

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undeniable

my body immersed in

energy unrecognizable

filling chasms of my soul

tides of tears to remind me

that I am here

did I miss the journey?

I am overcome

 

 

Written for dVerse Poetics. Amaya Engleking is our host and she has asked us to consider various questions about holy places. In Sedona, Arizona, I entered this well-visited Catholic chapel built on a mesa. I am not Catholic. I am not overly religious or convinced of spiritual vortexes, but what I experienced there was very spiritual….to me.

 

 

Let’s Get it Over…Easy

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Egg me on

Come on

Tap me twice and

I’ll break for you

Find the faults that you’ve

Held me to

Watch the way that

I spill for you

Poke my yolk

Make me run

Scramble my thoughts

It’s still

All over your face

 

 

A quadrille is 44 words, excluding the title. This week you must include the word “egg”. 

Kim is our host. It’s all happening over at dVerse Poets Pub!

Image credit: pixabay.com

Self Combustion

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I’ve dabbled in darkness

the match, centimeters

from singeing

my fingers, my soul

A symphony of sirens

felt like a lullaby

why?

you’d have to look deeper

I’d have to share more

than embers greyed, tired

I’d have to breathe life

into the fire

 

 

Written for d’verse Poets Pub. De is our host for this week’s Quadrille prompt. A quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words, not including the title. De has chosen the word ” fire” which must be incorporated into the poem.

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

 

 

 

Dearest Mistakes

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It’s hard to write as

I crawl between your fingers wagging

Aging my way to judgement day

Repentance reeking of self righteousness

Heavy scents of sincerity

You keep sending me notes and epiphanies

Squeezing through doors already sealed

Making your points ethereal

My nemesis, always the witty one

Wagering with my very soul

You are dust, still stirring

From my careless catastrophes

I do confess, I need you less

But please….stay close enough

To haunt me gently

 

 

Written for dVerse – “Meeting the Bar with a Letter”. Bjorn is our host.

Ashen

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I embrace the grey. Where pavement glistens in the rain. Where clouds paint every inch of sky in shades of loneliness. I am touched by the greys of nature, stones peppered in hues of silver, the undersides of lifeless leaves, glistening beach sand and broken twigs.  My eyes wander off clear cut paths to spot the fluff of squirrels’ tails or the fringe of a bird’s feather now fallen. An ancient tree speaks to me in somber tones, begging to share his story. Does he remember the forest floors of ancient times? Or is it all a foggy blur? I caress the rough, dappled bark of a walnut tree. It’s ok. I’d love you anyway. Grey takes me to a place where black and white, wrong and right can mix and mingle into maybes.

 

 

dull sky, sparrow spies

the grizzle drizzle of grey

open wings take flight

 

It’s Haibun Monday, open all week at dVerse Poets Pub. Bjorn has asked us to consider grey as a subject for our haibun, ” to bring grey into a personal (non-fictional) piece of prose. Add to that a haiku (with season and nature)”. Feel free to join in with us.

untitled

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the murmur of an ice cold heart

beats to the rhythm of decay

dehydrated dreams die

withered in February’s wind

tears will never nourish

 

 

 

For Frank Hubeny’s “Meeting the Bar” prompt. The theme is brevity, specifically to write a poem with no more than 5 lines.  There’s still time to join in over at dVerse Poets Pub.

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Field

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We grew up here. The soft breezes of summer carry me from our white brick house to this place of solitude. My feet greet the weathered path, making the hollow, tapping sound I so remember.  Again I wonder how this hard packed earth can feel like clouds under my feet….but it does.  I love the tickle of tall grasses against my bare legs and how the skies match my eyes today. I still marvel at the delicate design of Queen Anne’s Lace as it stands stoic beside red clover. A grasshopper leaps ahead of me, dodging my every step. He has nothing to fear but I cannot resist the urge to pull apart a milkweed. The same silky threads still comfort me. I roll them between my palms and set them free. They dazzle like white satin in sunlight before the greenery embraces them.

My journey curves around a cluster of wild bergamot. I pause to inhale the scent of sweet citrus. Just ahead to the left of the trail I see the large crevice or “crater” as we called it. A place to pretend, when we used to do that. Golden rod bouquets border the path in brilliant yellow. I run my fingers along them as I pass. They seem to be early. Finally I reach the neighbour’s orchard where I once believed swiping a few apples was a major crime. “Run!!”, I remember saying to my brother. He just laughed at me….the way he always did.

 

 

nurtured by nature

summer silenced by the fall

some seeds will die young

 

 

 

Written for Haibun Monday

~ dVerse Poets Pub ~

The theme is “Hometown” and I am your host.

Doors open at 3 p.m. EST. Hope to see you there!

 

 

 

 

 

Luna

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  Oh Luna, you light monger

  Peddling your parables

  Poeming me pretty words

  Hobnobbing with the clouds

  As I am left sleepless

  Tossed and tangled

  Between lucid thoughts

  And muddled dreams

  You’re so astronomical

  But I find you comical

  Spinning your tales in the stars

 

 

It’s time to Q44 at dVerse Poets Pub. Victoria is our lovely host. Join us with your own quadrille, a poem with exactly 44 words, not including the title. It must include the given word or a form of it and this week the word is “poem”.

 

Unwritten

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An Italian leather notebook sits empty at my bedside. A gift from a dear friend with an encouraging,  handwritten message. The sun sneaks through wooden blinds just enough to illuminate dust particles dancing over it. I run my fingers across the engraved designs on the cover that seem to speak of great things to come. I look inside, as if expecting to find something that wasn’t there before. Between each fine line there is silence, words yet to be unraveled in garlands and strokes unique to me. A lovely pen waits for the warmth of my hands, but has lost all hope.

I type to the rhythm of my random thoughts wondering why this has become my only mode of composition. Somehow I have forgotten the crossing of t’s and dotting of i’s. I have left behind the curves and arches, loops and flairs. I have left behind a piece of myself.

 

frozen river breaks

mallard writes in cursive form

freed by early thaw

 

 

 

Written for Kim’s Haibun Monday. The theme of the prose is “communication through pen or pencil and paper, followed by a traditional Haiku that includes reference to a season.” You can join in too at dVerse Poets Pub. The prompt opens at 3 p.m. EST and is open all week.

 

Til(l) Now

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we toil in toxic soil

planting intentions,

nurturing our contemplated

marinated seedlings of hope

and it feels righteous

downright righteous

is this not the path to peace?

when hope dies in the eyes of

the oppressed and forgotten

how many prayers are enough

for the darkness to fade,

for light to be cascaded

over hate so barbaric?

oh but we sing and we say

we are the world

We are compassionate

you…and me

aren’t we?

we must step off of our

overturned garden crates

weed out our own fears

and act

 

Amaya Cranston Engleking has joined our team over at dVerse.  Her poetic prompt for us today is to “write an epigraph poem (not an official form) in which a quote about global peace, social justice, or human rights is embedded”.  I chose the following quote…..

It is not enough to be compassionate – you must act.”- His Holiness The Dalai Lama

 

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Fall

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Illuminate me

Chloro- fill my veins

Colour me in carotene

Kisses and sugar sap

Decorate my heart

With strands of starlight

Let me sail

Over moonlight memories

Pinstripe my path

In strokes of midnight

Before I surrender to the fall

Sun-shine my soul

 

 

Today I am hosting Poetics for dVerse Poets Pub and I am excited to share the photography of Sharon Knight at sunearthsky.com for our poetic muse! You are welcome to join in at 3 p.m EST. 

 

 

Chiaroscuro – dVerse Anthology

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Happy New Year! I am so excited to announce the publication of

Chiaroscuro

Darkness and Light

Voices from poets – dVerse Anthology

 

Thanks to the dedicated leaders of our virtual poetry site, Bjorn Rudberg & Mary Grace Guevara and all the poets from around the world who contributed, this book is now complete and available on Amazon.

You can find it here.

Congrats to all and best wishes for 2018!

 

Metamorphic

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I’ve found a new canvass

To draw on… and from

Sharing journeys

From bo(u)lder times

To monotonous erosion

To sun-kissed, self-loving

Soul-saving bliss

Rocking my freedom

Of direction

Perfection still wavering

Between the lines

And my mind

Colours conjoined

Words coined

Tedious, serious joy

 

painted rocks – Michelle Beauchamp

 

 

We are rocking the quadrille over at dVerse Poets Pub! I am your host and I hope you can join us. Write a poem of exactly 44 words including the word “rock”. The prompt begins today at 3 p.m. EST and is open all week.

 

 

You Go First

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I feel you tugging on the mask

Your grip equals my resistance

To concealing my existence

Don’t listen to my eyes

They lie

 

I feel you dredging up the past

Sifting fallacies from honesty

My blunders are your pleasure

Troubles I do treasure

Don’t look into my soul

It’s old

 

I feel your tiny shovel words

Digging deeply and discreetly

I see your mask is custom fit

Perhaps you truly will outwit

Take it off, go ahead

You go first

 

 

Come join us for Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub 3 p.m. EST.

We are exploring the idea of masks, psychological or metaphorical.

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

 

Seasonal Fantasy

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Giggling green spring

Breathing bubble-bliss balloons

Grinning, shimmering, mmmmelt…..ing

Cue music!

Pepper-spiced clouds dance

Freely twisting, curling

Leaves flicker, fears drizzle

Lulling dawn

Hope-filled jars spill open

Sparking rosebud dreams

Journey’s scars echo in ghosts

Creaking shadows skip

To storm’s song

Whispering bliss

Stilled

 

 

A quadrille for dVerse. Grace is hosting and she has given us the word, “creak” to play with. This is week 43  for the Quadrille prompt. I challenged myself to use ALL the words. 

 

 

Shipwrecked

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We bobble like iron bubbles

Anchored to docks of despair

Waving flags, still bragging

About love of country

Humble hearts whisper

In feathers, doves

But hope does not float

Intentions are stuck in

Stagnant sea scum

Blood flows and God knows

We are tired

 

 

Written for this week’s Quadrille prompt over at dVerse Poets Pub

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

 

On Me Way to Work

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Strangest day it was

The past peepin’ roun’ corners

Portals open saysme

Or not… maybe

Do I ever close ’em

Let shadows lurketh

 

And biggest bizarrest day

Past peepin’roun corners

I n’me up

Making my head messin’

Me guessin’ whatsup

Somethin just not right

 

 

Wait! Lemme ‘splain it. It’s the most terriblest, worstest grammar ever!

That is the idea over at dVerse Poets Pub for this week’s Poetics.

 

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

 

 

Seasoned

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I follow you

Flashlight in hand

Still dimmer than our hearts

Lake of infinity

Lapping to the rhythm of

Silence

Sandy-toed, sips of merlot

You whisper of satellites

Geosynchronous orbits

And how much you love me

Spicing my world

Peppering my skies

With stars

 

 

Join us as I host one of our favourite prompts, the Quadrille at dVerse Poets Pub. 44 words including the word “spice” or any form of it. Doors open at 3 p.m. EST.  C’mon….get a little spicy!

 

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

Blessed

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I find my religion

in song and stars

not far from the dazzle

of dew drops at dawn

in chiseled red rock

set aglow by the sun

in the voice of the trees

that silence me

strokes of pastel

over indigo skies

moonlight shadows

that dance in my eyes

the strength of the spider web

in gale’s great force

and of course

it all feels magical

 

Paul is tending bar at dVerse Poets Pub today and he has us brewing up a little magic into our poems.

Want to read some enchanting poetry?  Feel free to join in. Just wave your magic wand over this: 

*** MAGIC***

Flicker

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When nightfall finds you

Breathless under muted moon

Your shattered heart fumbling

Tumbling faster than your thoughts

May you count stars instead of tears

Echo the moments, over years

Summon one precious particle

Of light within your soul

Carry on, my friend

Carry on

This life is not over

 

 

Written for dVerse as Paul brings us a beautiful prompt for Poetics, called

“Blessings”

Strange Road

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I walk tight ropes

Intricately sewn of my own doubts

Back and forth I tiptoe

From sky blue clarity

To the rarity of

Predictions come true

And here I pause

One foot fixed and ready to

Fly across the flames

The other sifting pebbles

Of doubt between my toes

I wave to hazy horizons

That already know

My destiny

 

 

Today I am hosting at dVerse Poets Pub where we are using signs as a visual prompt. Let them speak to you metaphorically or as an allegory, take you to a deeper place or even a comical place. Your sign does not need to have words, as symbols have stories and voices too.

 

Sensory Senryu

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Claustrophobia

 

a jet black bubble

titanium choke hold

last taste of insanity

 

 

Peace

 

auras of eucalyptus

good deeds dangle from the stars

waiting on supernova

 

 

Fake

 

pearly white snake

words whispering agenda

bouncing off the wise

 

 

Micromanaged

 

preyed, poked and pried

shadowed under King Kong thumb

random rays of light

 

 

It’s time for Poetics at dVerse.  Today I am hosting and the topic is “Sensory Play”. Choose something abstract such as a colour, emotion, idea, concept, a quality, trait or situation…and bring it to life using one or more senses. You could also choose something more concrete, as long as you are using senses that are not normally associated with it. For example, describing the sound of “moonlight”. Hope you can join us!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Taradiddle

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Nothing more

Man in the moon malarkey

Stirring my drizzle of doubt

With a spoon

Logic, integrity lost

On some cat with a fiddle

Spewing his spittle of words

That I have heard before

Is there more?

I think I might have a cow

 

Join us at dVerse today for the fan favourite of 44 words and what we love to call the “quadrille”. As your host, I am asking you to include the word drizzle or derivative of. I have no idea what came over me to write this…except too many years of singing preschool rhymes.

Image credit: William Wallace Denslow, Wikipedia

 

 

 

 

 

Fawns and Simpler Things

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I am your Spring

Spindly, unspoken

Mending your dreams

Faded and broken

 

Sweet woodland grasses

Kissed by the sun

Nurture my soul

Teach me to run

 

Delve in my eyes

Of nature’s unknown

I hold your heart

I am your home

 

We are writing “From Nature’s Point of View”.

at dVerse Poets Pub.

 3 p.m. EST.

 

 

 

 

Windbag

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From your lips

Word balloons drift

A speech bubble blitz

Of braggadocio

Oh Pinocchio

Clouds do not part

For your presence

 

You are marshmallowed

Hollowed

A fairy tale twaddle

Floating on folly

And horse feathers

Oh Romeo

Thy swelled head

Will soften your landing

 

For De’s quadrille prompt over at dVerse.

Write a 44 word poem including the word “balloon”.

 

Image credit: pixabay.com

Three Sails

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Rainbowed, razzle dazzled

Poised upon lavender skies

Steady handed horizon

Sea swirls capped in stark white

Murmurs of mustard froth

Blends of blue

Southwestern hues

Neon dreams adrift

 

Image credit: pixabay.com

Written for Meeting the Bar. Bjorn is our host and he has asked us to take a closer look at impressionism to incorporate it into our poetry. We are painting with words. You can too.

dversepoets.com

Outside of the Box

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Build me a home

With pieces of me

Open heart plan

Tulips and trees

Walls of words spoken

Timeless and treasured

Cloud me a ceiling

Cottoned and feathered

 

Blueprint my passions

Shutter my fears

Sprinkle my garden

With laughter and tears

Montage my memories

In order, not fancy

Stardust my floors

Let me be dancy

 

For dVerse Poetics where our guest host, Sara McNulty has asked us “to imagine that you have been given free rein to design any type of building you wish”.

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

 

 

Glass Fish

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You didn’t know

That on riverbanks I sat

Sinking in words unspoken

As waves sparkled and spat

Saying more than you could

And I ever would

I back-stroked in sea storms

Dreamed of days blue

While you fought the ebb tides

And this little memento

Means more than an ocean

To me

 

I am hosting Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub today. Today I am asking you to write a poem about one memento. You may use a souvenir from your travels, a photo, a keepsake from a special moment or event, perhaps a small token that is dear to your heart.

 

Mélange

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It’s a short drive to the park. Winter has made a whimsical return as if to poke fun at Spring. Snow powdered trees appear to float in rainwater lagoons. I throw my daydreams into placid pools and wish for sunlight. In the foreground, flakes fall melting instantly on a glass stage. In the distance, they unite to soften the woods with a whitewash.  This portrait is life, mirrored and stilled by the indecisiveness of Mother Nature.  I join in reflections of branches blurred and blended, losing myself in the scene.

 

Seasonal squabble

Geese ponder their homeward flight

Nature simply paints

 

Björn leads our Haibun Monday this week.  He explains two techniques, “ekphrasis” and “haiga” as we combine art and poetry.

 

 

 

Neurons

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It is a privilege

To be part of this village

Paving the pathways

Breaking the patterns

Sowing the seeds

Eye contact, warmth of heart

Neurons ready for take off

Strange how for some

It takes science to prove

That love builds brains

 

Today for Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub, 3 p.m EST

We take a closer look at Ally Saunders, an artist from British Columbia, Canada. Through an interview, Ally shared with me more about herself and her life as an artist. She has kindly allowed us to use her work to stir our muse!

Join us!

Sunny Side Up

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Pelee Island 140

She liked her eggs sunny side up
Runny…

      … running away
Like she always did

She poked the yolks
Releasing them, releasing her
From destinies and obligations
Yellow trickles of madness

Ooooozing……

Soaking grainy plateaus on her plate
Mesas she never climbed
The people left behind
Standing there
Like the salt and pepper shakers
Stoically staring her down

This.. a mere snippet of it all
Life served on a platter
Exchanged for prices
And slices of her heart
She toyed with the lettuce
Lifting it, loathing it
A worthless embellishment

     Wilting

Dying in front of her
Like all the rest

 
For Open Link Night at dVerse. Grace is our host!

Originally written for a poetic prompt in 2015 where we were challenged by Claudia Schoenfeld to write layered poetry.

If you are new to dVerse, OLN is an opportunity to share one poem with other poets in a welcoming, non-judgemental environment. We would love to have you join us.  Doors open at 3 p.m. EST.

dverselogo

Serpentize

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She honeyed her way

Through like the drizzle

On a warm sopapilla

Dimple-cheeked a path

Of pink, made them think

She was true-blue

But she didn’t “you”

She spewed

Of what they thought she was

And what she wasn’t

 

 

It’s Lillian’s turn at Poetics! She has provided much fun and creativity with “verbification”, changing nouns, adjectives or other words into verbs. Can you verbify? There is still time to join in!

https://dversepoets.com/

 

Image credit: pixabay.com

Grounded

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I searched empty canyons

Pilfered through frozen hearts

Filtered facts from the cinders

Reflected from afar

 

I waited on ocean currents

Zephyrs for perfect sailing

All the while failing

To see my own stars

 

 

I am happy to be hosting our first Poetics for 2017 at our virtual pub, 

dversepoets.com

The New Year has a way of restoring our hopes and aspirations, nudging us to set new goals, follow new dreams and create “new beginnings”. With this in mind, I decided to visually inspire you with the help of 8 wonderful artists. Although the titles of their work may be very similar, each piece is an example of their very unique styles. The fun begins at 3 p.m. EST. Hope you can join in!

Image credit: “New Beginning”  by Lynn and Jim Lemyre.

You can find more of their work at lemyreart.com

 

 

 

Recipe for Closure

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x

 

Dig deep

You may have to sift through

The negative ions

Particles of the unpropitious

 

Become stirred

Let …yourself… rise

You deserve the outcome

Knead I say more?

 

Today I am your host at dVerse Poets Pub .I am asking you to create your own “recipe poem”, but not of the culinary kind. Instead, write about something more abstract such as “a recipe for love”. You may want to include the language of a cookbook, but that is up to you.  Join us! Doors open at 3 p.m EST.

How Dare I Even Try to Cover Shakespeare

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All the world’s a page
And all the men and women merely poets
They have their exits and their entrances,
And in time they write of every stage of this life
The penning of seven ages. At first, the infant,
Rapping and clapping  in mother’s arms
Then the whining schoolboy, with his backpack
And mourning face, snailing his way
To school. And then the lover,
Sighing between couplets, with a woeful ballad
Music to his mistress’ ear. Then a soldier,
Fighting life’s battles on paper and screens
Jealous in honor, spoken word slamming
Seeking the published prize
At the risk of denial. And then the justice,
Fattened and fueled with philosophy,
With eyes widened by profound thoughts
Full of wisdom of past and present
And so he coins his phrase. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and withered wordsmith,
With spectacles on nose and irony alongside;
His youthful imagery, well saved, a world too wide
For his shortened verse, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish times, whines
And whistles of his own elegy. Last stanza of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Blank verse, refrain and mere oblivion,
Sans rhythm, sans rhyme, sans breath, sans everything.

 

ALL THE WORLD’S A STAGE

By William Shakespeare

(from As You Like It, spoken by Jacques)

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

poetryfoundation.org

Photo taken in Stratford, Ontario, home of the Stratford Festival and Shakespearean plays.

 

A wonderful challenge by Bryan Ens for dVerse Poetics, where he asked us to “cover” a poem by a poet whom you admire. I missed the prompt so I’m linking this up to “Open Link Night”.

Feel free to join in with one poem of your choice!

Ties

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He tells me he’s going to Thailand. Alone. For six weeks. Six weeks and six days. He is taking a backpack. I think he is joking but then…there’s the grin, that familiar smirk n’ dimple disposition that says he is not. I smile, wide-eyed while panic pokes at every ounce of my maternal self. “What?” “Why?” “When?” The fact that he will miss Christmas becomes trivial, getting lost in swirls of anxiety. I look in his eyes for answers to questions I haven’t thought of yet. He speaks of hostels in Bangkok and a train to Chiang Mai where you can ride an elephant. My heart races like a tuk-tuk but I remain focused on him, his dreams, his ambitions, his life. This is his life.

 

sea eagle sets sail

as easterly winds beckon

avoiding monsoons

 

Toni (kazensukura) leads our Haibun Monday at dVerse this week. The topic is your choice. Just remember to follow the etiquette of the form. “(1) The haibun must be non-fiction (2) The occurance must have actually happened to you (3) You are to write one to two tight paragraphs and (4) End it with a season based haiku.”

Image: pixabay.com

 

 

Seasonal Affair

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My little maple

Of glistening gold

Flaunting, fluttering as

Sol sister laughs

She knows wind is only

Teasing, breezing by for

One last kiss of autumn

The final dance before

The chill and I will

Cherish your leaves

As fall still breathes

Through winter

 

It’s Quadrille time again and we’d love for you to join us over at dVerse Poets Pub. As your host, I am asking you to write a poem of 44 words (not including the title) and your quadrille must contain the word…

b…r…e…a…t…h…e

or breath, breathtaking, breathable…any variation of the word

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 this with dVerse ~ Open Link Night

Image credit: pixabay.com

Abusing Walls

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I held you up

I let you paint me

In the latest trends

Layer upon layer

Of boredom and

Mid-life madness

I hated periwinkle by the way

Then you had the gall

To nail me!

Fancy little treasures

All in a row…oh

I sheltered you

From the storms but

You just made your own

Then what do ya’ know?

You… kicked…me!

I didn’t like that

But I think it hurt you more

 

At dVerse Poets Pub we are giving walls a voice. 

You can join in too!

 

Image credit: pixabay.com

Dinner for Four

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Pins patter across the floor

To the beat of stifled hearts

The scrape of metal on plates

Over a pea soup haze

Of perishing pipe dreams

Plates are full

Starving souls grumble

As sun stretches in vain

To reach darkened table

Four sets of blue eyes

Pale and gazing elsewhere

Wandering minds waiting

For something

Anything

To speak

These walls know

The pain of silence

 

We have all heard the phrase, “If these walls could talk”. Today, I would like you to do just that by giving walls a voice through your poetry. Join in with us over at dVerse where I will be your host for today’s Poetics. Doors open at 3 p.m. EST.

Image credit: pixabay.com

First Embrace

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Oh my little sea anemone

I didn’t know your name

Or if your game included me

My intrusion, your confusion

My bucket list of fickleness

But somehow I knew

I knew you would reach for me

The first time I touched you

 

sea-anomie

Sea anemone, Laguna Beach

 

Written for Poetics: “first things first”. Kelly has returned for a visit and has asked us to write a poem about a first.  This brief interaction was most likely a first for both of us.

Purging Postcards

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quad

 

 

 

Stop jarring your journeys

Spill them

Leave them dancing

Bubble them in the breeze

Spark your grin

Rose petal your way

To the clouds

With a skip and a twist

Recycle the shimmer

Of open green trails

Memories are melting shadows

Let them lull

 

 

Another one for De’s Q44 prompt at dVerse

My first attempt at using ALL the Quadrille words (19).

The Abyss

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abyss

 

From the abyss, I will emerge
Stand before myself, drained and hallow
Stare at the surface, rippled and shallow
I have been here before
Facing shadows
Gasping for air
As the sun dances on waves
I have been here before
In temped waters, soft and salty
Floating on falacies
And misunderstandings
Bidding farewell

Lost meanings travel the tide
Currents are destined to ride
With freighters and greater things
But I will meet with the ocean floor
Where life begins again
One breath, arms weightless
I will become one with life’s blood
Until my hands find the rocks
And my heart finds the courage
To rise up again

I am hosting Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub. No prompt required although you may want to use one you’ve missed to spark your muse. We are a friendly bunch. Drop in, share your work and engage with other poets! Doors open at 3 p.m. EST.

Disposition

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Used with Permission: Emily Blincoe

 

 

You

cannot fix me.

My voids are custom

 made, specially designed

for comfort. Don’t arrange my

faults like feathers in a row,

plucked and sucked dry so

you can take credit

for my flight.

It isn’t

r

i

g

h

t

.

 

Written for dVerse – “Poetics: Arrangements by Emily Blincoe”

Umbra

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shadow

 

 

Shadows are born

From breath of light

Betwixt the twigs

They play and meddle

Draping black veils

Over earth’s stage

This is where

Leaves spot dance

One last time

My heart dips

And sways

Between  sweet

Sounds of sunbeams

And  the monotones

Of solitude

 

Today at dVerse, De is our host serving up some quadrilles or Q44’s as we like to call them. She has chosen the word “shadow” that must be included within the poem.  Join the fun!

 

Spirit Birds

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Feather me, hawk

To help me see

Feather me, crow

Please balance me

Feather me, dove

To nurture and love

Feather me, bluebird

With joyful words

Feather me, eagle

To make me wise

Feather me, seagull

In freedom, I’ll fly

Feather me, falcon

To heal my soul

Give me my wings

To make me whole

 

A late response to Victoria’s poetic prompt, “Come Fly With Me”

It’s  Open Link Night over at dVerse Poets Pub.  Feel free to share a poem with us!