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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


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.

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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.


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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.


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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.

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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!







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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”.



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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.