RSS Feed

Tag Archives: poetics

Life Takes Off His Mask

Posted on

 

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.

 

 

 

 

Microgravity

Posted on

-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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Freeze

Posted on

 

In winter’s doom, the rain awaits

For torchlight moon, to rise, elate

A myst of diamond pellets prance

Begins in waves, accumulates

 

In dreams of green and blossom blast

Awakened by the snow of last

We shiver, quake in arctic breath

And slip and slide to portals past

 

 

In response to “Poetics: Games Night” where Sarah has asked us “to choose 3 names from the list of computer game names below, and somehow or other wrangle them into a poem.”  I have incorporated five of them into this Rubaiyat, which I will also link to our most recent challenge in Poetry Forms.

 

Notes: The rhyme scheme is AABA. I did not choose to use the unrhymed B line sound from the first quatrain as the main rhyming sound in the next quatrain, therefore it is not interlinking. This is an option for the form.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Butt wait…

Posted on

 

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

Posted on

 

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

Cannikin

Posted on

 

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.

 

 

 

Til(l) Now

Posted on

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

Posted on

 

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. 

 

 

You Go First

Posted on

 

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

 

 

On Me Way to Work

Posted on

 

 

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

 

 

 

E-volving

Posted on

 

 

“We are all just prisoners here

of our own device.”

Well isn’t that nice….

Robotic, hypnotic little

Sheep grinning, grazing

On bits and bytes of

Techno trash and hashtags

Phubbing our friends

There’s a word for that?

Doesn’t deserve one

We sulk like fools

In our own game

Propagating our own pain

Immunized, mesmerized

Publicized, then wondering why

Our hearts hurt

And our heads are spinning

This is the fork in the road

My friends

The end

Or the beginning

 

 

Hope you enjoyed “Musical Muse”, my offering as a poetic prompt this week at dVerse Poets Pub. Choose some lyrics, preferably one line from a favorite song and grow your own poem from it. You are not limited to the original theme of the song. Instead, forge your own poetic path.

**Quote is from the lyrics of “Hotel California”, The Eagles

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

 

Flicker

Posted on

 

 

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

Posted on

 

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

Posted on

 

 

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!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fawns and Simpler Things

Posted on

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

Glass Fish

Posted on

imag2100.jpg

 

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.

 

How Dare I Even Try to Cover Shakespeare

Posted on

dscf8601

 

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!

Abusing Walls

Posted on

background-1507046_1280

 

 

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

Posted on

eat-in-kitchen-907611_1280

 

 

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

Posted on

 

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.

Honestly

Posted on

dewdrops2

 

 

Sometimes I like to

Dangle in dewdrops

Laugh hysterically in

Cynical times

Find a way to face

My own face

It is not always easy

To celebrate

Life

~

Life

Is to celebrate

I will face my own

Cynical times

I will laugh at myself

Yes, hysterically

Because sometimes

It is easy to dangle

In dewdrops

 

Written for Walt’s poetic prompt, “A Cause For Celebration”.

Come celebrate with a poem over at dVerse Poets Pub.

Luna-ticked

Posted on

evening-959030_1920

 

 

I am a speck

In the float of fairy dust

Swept in spirals

Iridescent futility

Give me some gusto

Please

The sun dazzles me dizzy

On cloudy days

My eyes tire of the roll

 

My firefly flicker is

          S-l-o-w-l-y   f-a—-ding

While you dangle, debonair

Among the diamonds

You and your crescent grin

 

 

Written for Lill’s poetic prompt, “Razzle Dazzle Me!”.  Not feeling very sparkly lately. Thought I’d blame it on the moon.

 

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

Disposition

Posted on
_mg_9627-2

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”

Spirit Birds

Posted on

pelee-island-609

 

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!

I Wish

Posted on

20160523_195350

 

I wish love grew as ivy

Boundless, disencumbered

Sprouting across spaces

Rainbows of faces

As we sway hand in hand

 

I wish for seas

Of selfish hearts to crash

Against rocky reefs

Dissolve and dilute

In harbors of integrity

 

I wish for all clichéd

World peace, homemade

Stirred, simmered, seasoned

With the very gifts

That God gave us

 

I wish for stars

To forever befuddle me

Amaze me, allude me

Remain unreachable

So I never stop reaching

 …and wishing

 

As your host today at dVerse Poets Pub, I am asking you to leave your worries at the door. Make a wish and write a poem about it. It may be a personal longing or a global vision. Your poem can be serious, humorous or whimsical.

Join us for some “Wishful Thinking”. Doors open at 3 p.m. EST.

 

Departure

Posted on

pic for Departure

 

I watch the old bones
Of your pianist hands
Bend in new ways
Blue irises fading, not in beauty
Mind sharper than mine

Will you take flight tomorrow
Or am I blessed with more?
My pen is dripping tears
Dare I write these words?

Am I afraid to love so much that
The ground beneath me liquefies
When you go?

Will your skin, soft and weathered
Turn to pixels on a screen
Leaving me floating here
In the silence of white noise?

When you become that
One …star…ablaze
I will not stand in darkness…alone
Waving at you from the gate
I swear
I will be your moon
Gently glowing
By your side

 

 

We are facing our fears today as I tend bar over at dVerse Poets Pub.

Doors open at 3:00 p.m. EST.

Making Scents

Posted on
abstracts-18838_640

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

 

She made scents to him

Hints of jasmine

Teases of moon-flower

Flutters of frangipani

Gentle wafts swirling

Over sun kissed skin

She was his four o’clock flower

He was her sea breeze lingering

On sandalwood trails

Strolling paths of patchouli

Whispers of mint melding

 

 

Grace is tending bar over at dVerse. We are writing poems about scents.  I was pleasantly surprised after finishing this piece that it happened to be exactly 44 words.  An accidental quadrille!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Turf

Posted on

 

 

blade

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

“I lean and loaf at my ease,
observing a spear of summer grass.”

                                  The Song of Myself – Walt Whitman

 

A single blade born of earth’s spirit

Twirling between my fingertips

This is where it starts and ends

 From tickles of green on toddler toes

To cartwheels and dandelion chins

Miniature bayonets protected

By ecology, infected by technology

I lean towards loafing and lounging

Near lily pad ponds in summer

Bedazzled by dragonflies

Counting blessings and dewdrops on

A single blade born of earth’s spirit

 

 

Walt is behind the bar at dVerse Poets Pub and we are celebrating the summer solstice. He asked us to write a poem inspired by another poet’s work that is related to summer.

Maiden of Doubt

Posted on

statue

 

“Oh how meticulous you were
As you loved and molded me
I will assume you loved me
For who would bestow
Upon me the honour
Of such poise and grace
If they did not once taste
The salt on my lips?

Would thou grant me
This queenly perch
Where waterways meet
To extend and greet
Only to leave me
Before the ebb tide?

               Or dost thou love me?”

~

Written for Lillian’s prompt for Poetics, “Chisel me a conversation”.

We are giving sculptures a voice.  Join us at dVerse Poets Pub.

Sarnia Blues

Posted on

seagull

 

Sittin’ here with a couple of beers
Wishing we were there
We miss the smoke stacks
Believe it or not
And the train just came to a stop

“Bluewater City” is the place for us
We met a seagull
His name was Gus
We’re not walkin’ in the same ol’ shoes
But we both got the Sar-ni-a blues

You can go to Flin Flon
Fly up to the Yukon
You can cross the border
But we’ll stay here
With our Sarnia blues
We’ll sit here pickin’
On our Sarnia blues

The Canterbury Inn is the place to be
The band is playin’ and it’s row-dy
You go down Eureka
I’ll follow Confed.
And we’ll  get those boys outta bed

You can go to Flin Flon
Fly up to the Yukon
You can cross the border
But we’ll stay here
With our Sarnia blues
We’ll sit here pickin’
On our Sarnia blues

© Michelle Beauchamp

~

 

I actually wrote this 35 years ago with a high school friend about my college town. I accompany it with an acoustic guitar. The lyrics are obviously not too sophisticated but when my friend’s band played it at their university pub one night, apparently it was a hit.

I’m tending bar today over at dVerse Poets Pub and we are writing our own songs! It’s a bit noisy, but we’d love to have you join us.  Doors open at 3 p.m. EST.

 

Zia

Posted on

badlandssunset3

 

Oh sacred sun

Paint my heart in pastels

Once more you find me

Beckoned by the beige of

Chiseled mesas

Dressed in shadows

Tantalized by turquoise trails

Where time tumbles

In weeds, windswept

Wonders dance like dust devils

And I trust

 That beauty still thrives

 In lonesome places

 

Today I am hosting Poetics at dVerse. The topic is “Sentiments of the Southwest” where I have offered up some of my favourite photos for inspiration.

The pub opens at 3 pm EST. See you there!

Unspoken

Posted on

haibun 11

 

I take my tea (with milk) and nestle into the corner of my retro couch. This has always been the perfect view of the front yard, my little piece of nature. My mind wanders from the bleak, bare limbs of the ancient maple to my own melancholia. I think about words wasted, stirring in minds but never poured. Why?

The lyrics of an R.E.M. song somehow find their way into my head again, uninvited. “Oh no, I’ve said too much. I haven’t said enough”.  The anthem repeats until I welcome the squawk of two feisty blue jays. I listen to the chatter of simple souls, exposed.  The clouds spit by fits and starts against my window only to remind me of all things voiceless and vague. Droplets run and merge with each other, twisting and turning along the glass. Conversations of the past rehash and play to the unsteady beat of the rain. I open the door to breathe in sweet spring. I have no patience for puzzles.

 

 

Timeless mysteries

Secrets, too heavy to fly

Truth soars with the wind

 

Toni’s prompt for Haibun Monday is related to communication or the lack of it. There is still time to join in at dVerse!

Open-handed

Posted on

 

 

I am sifting dreams

Between tired fingers

They trickle like gypsum crystals

Pure and unproductive

My knuckles now carry

Their own set of baggage

Indented with frowns and smiles

That taunt me with the truth

“I am getting older”

 

But I will not clench this life

With frenzied fists

Squeezing moments dry

Palms open, I wait

Trusting in lines of fate

For life to gently unfold

These hands have held miracles

 

snail in hands

 

I am so honoured and excited to be hosting Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub today! The prompt I have chosen is hands, to be used literally, symbolically or metaphorically. Let your hands tell a story. Pay homage to hands. I left this in the hands of some amazing poets and I look forward to reading their work. The pub opens at 3 pm EST. See you there!

 

New Mexico

Posted on

 

canyon

 

Pieces of my heart

Wait for me here

Where time has chiseled rock

Like a sculptor

Offering masterpieces to the heavens

But they’ve seen it

And I feel like an angel

Poised and perched upon a mesa

Waiting for my wings

Wondering how I ever knew

What the sun was

Until I felt it here

Warming every pore of my skin

 

My thoughts run deep

Into canyons where they dance

With shadow and light

Reflecting dreams transpired

Before they were ever dreams

I inhale the sweet scent

Of pinon pine and cedar

The stillness moves me

Silence embraces me

Reality chases me

But I will be back because

Pieces of my heart

Wait for me here

 

For dVerse poetics, “Adventures in Traveling”.

Sheltered

Posted on

dance

 

I danced shadows to shield you
Magnificent steps
Choreographed sweetly
To the beat
Of my breaking heart
You wore my shoes
Heavy with irony
Shuffled down trustworthy trails
Longing to fly barefoot
Across murky dark oceans
Only to dangle your toes
Between shark’s teeth

We are writing quadrilles at Dverse Poets Pub.

 

Halloween Freaks

Posted on

Escape_from_Darkness_(15336505783)

The hooligans gather
In small hours of night
Scanning and planning
To feast on our fright

Slithering, withering
Varmints and trolls
Creatures of habit
Hiding in holes

Ghastly ogres
Of lineage and dole
Peering and peeping
With eyes of gall

Insides on outsides
Slinking and stinking
Halloween freaks
What are you thinking?

~

We are writing about anything Halloween for dVerse. Toni is our host tonight. She is a talented poet and you can find her at kanzensakura . We share a fear for the Wizard of Oz!  So….uh…yeah…I am not a fan of the quivery, shivery stuff, but I have to admit that this was fun to write.

Image credit: Wikipedia commons

All We’ve Forgotten

Posted on

We forget the essentials
As we pretend that gratitude
Is a new way to live our life
We forget substance
We forget joy
We forget how it feels
To feel
We numb our minds from the pain
Of a thousand knives and bullets
Aimed at someone else
Our hearts forget to beat
For those we’ve forgotten

We forget the land
We forget the land can heal us
We forget authenticity
We forget to worry about
Monsters under the bed
They reside in our head
We forget to imagine
We forget to look…
For anything
We wait for it…
To load, begin the show
As we deprive ourselves from accomplishment

We forget possibilities
Woven, sewn or whittled
From nothing but a dream
We forget how to knock on a door
We forget what friends are for
We forget that hope is not just a word
Or a bird or another tattoo
For some it is all there is
We forget why we’re here
We forget to care
We forget how it feels to care
About all we’ve forgotten

all we've forgotten


Grace is hosting at dVerse Poet’s Pub. She introduced us to the work of Loyce Gayo, Slam Champ of the UT Spitshine Poetry Slam team. Her performance poem, “How We Forget” was my inspiration for this piece.

http://dversepoets.com/2015/09/08/poetics-how-we-forget/

Seeing the Light

Posted on

October 049

 

We eat intentions for breakfast
Blaming our half done deeds
On calendars and clocks
We are the watchmen

 

We look to the skies and heavens
Waiting for God to repair
The gifts we’ve destroyed
We are the watchmen

 

We find faults between layers
Of good will and grace
Wipe tears from blind eyes
We are the watchmen

 

 

Lynn is hosting Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub! She asks, “Who or what acts as our personal or social watchman?  Do we choose to believe or ignore this watchman?” In my opinion, if society has failed, then we have failed…yes…you and I.

 

Dog Days

Posted on

dog days

Give me those dog days of summer
Hot spells, cotton candy skin
Sweet corn, salt and peppered
Butter dripping down chins

It beats those ice crackling
Snow shoveling minus 20 winds
Show me your plum pickin’
Rib stickin’ watermelon grin

I’ll dip my tutti frutti toes
In nippy waters, shin deep
Sketch my dreams in the sand
Before sailing off to sleep

                                                                   ~

 

We are heating it up at dVerse as we write about the dog days of summer.

Toni (Kazensakura) has chosen this hot poetic prompt.

Blue Eyed Boy Boards a Train

Posted on

rails

Blue eyed boy boards a train
For northern lakes
And goodness sakes
For it trickles through his veins

Bending west along prairies
Crystal clear tributaries
Open mind steady
As the rails that carry him

And these winds beckon gently
As his gaze takes him further
Than his blue eyes can see
Past the pine and tamarack

More than transcontinental
This journey, monumental
A junction met
Between roots and risk

                     ~

Written for dVerse – Open Link Night using Bill’s poetic prompt “All Aboard” where we were asked to write about trains.

Charlatan

Posted on

bw

She lives in the grey

Mixing chalky drab clouds

With the ebony of night

Flaunting her travels

Of glorious spectrum

Planting pastels

In primary gardens

Writing her creed

In black and white

Fooling only herself

~

Inspired by Grace’s poetic prompt of  “black and white”. You can be inspired too at dVerse Poet’s Pub.

Pink and Pretty

Posted on

Fragile hearts, content

To dangle delicately

Trusting in the mulch

To cushion leaps of faith

 

Mighty oak throws shadows

Over the pink and pretty

A tantalizing two step

To mock daylight’s dreams

 

Brave hearts sway

To the pasodoble

Embracing nature’s dance

Oblivious to the darkness

 

Patti Wolf is our guest blogger for Poetics at dVerse and she has asked us to write a microworld poem, inspired by nature.  The bleeding heart plant in my garden never ceases to amaze me with it’s intricate design.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My 2AM

Posted on

candle

 

My two a.m. is a darkened cocoon

Where the words and I transform

I am swaddled by the freedom

En-kindled by the darkness

As the keyboard tap dances

Under the moonlight of the monitor

My two a.m. is a borderline I dare to cross

Where night mingles with the day

Random thoughts come out to play

I sit on the edge of my eyelids

Holding them up to the light

And I peacefully fight

Because the winner is always me

Slumber or finished piece

 

We are incorporating “2 a.m.” into a poem for dVerse this week.

 

 

 

Sunny Side Up

Posted on

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

~

Written for dVerse where we are working on layered poetry.

The Critics

Posted on

rod mckuen

 

 

Did you tread in tepid waters?
Your toes never touching bottom
Your head never fully immersed
They called your work tepid
Yet it ignited my soul

Was purity your paradox?
Unquestionable, points made and drawn
Like constellations on a sky map
They called your work aphoristic
But your realities opened my mind

Did the words fall without effort?
A silky slide of naked truths
A penning of mindless muse
They called your work facile
As I let your clarity complicate me

Do you still listen to the warm?
Write your reveries in the clouds
Find the peace that eluded you
They called you “King of Kitsch”
But sentiment is under rated

“Eternity sneaks in
her arms full of wild promises.”
Rod McKuen, Listen to the Warm

~

 

For dVerse we are writing about poets that have inspired us. Rod McKuen had a huge impact on me as a teenager. Open, honest and straightforward, his work resonated with me and helped me to validate my own style of poetry. Only a few months ago, I decided to email Mr. McKuen to let him know how his work had influenced me. I procrastinated and the email was never sent. Weeks later in January of 2015,  I sadly read that Rod McKuen had passed away. Another life lesson…don’t wait.

 

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/01/30/arts/rod-mckuen-prolific-poet-and-lyricist-dies-at-81.html?_r=0

Image credit: http://www.pinterest.com

 

Origin of Me

Posted on

October 100

 

 

I am from the wings of a dragonfly
The delicate sands of an anthill
Silky threads of milkweed seeds
Opened and tossed to the wind

I am from the roar of a Honda 70
Grasshoppers, gullies and go-carts
Dewey grass on sunburned legs
Arms wrapped around tree trunks

I am from flower power
Hiding in wall flowers
The tickle of rugs in shag
The crumple of paper grocery bags

I am from pumpkin pie with maple syrup
Borsch and crescent moons
Plaid jumpers and pig tails
Tied with purple yarn

I am from the scent of oil pastels
Grandmother’s charcoal sketches
Minor and major scales of G
Sunday school and follow the rules

I am from frozen toes and toboggans
Snowflakes melting on eyelashes
Hot chocolate steaming
As the porch light flickered

I am from pioneer women of strength
Men who worked the land
Prairies of rippling amber
Gleaming against western skies

I am from the salt of tears
In wounds still open
The pieces that are left
When hearts stop beating

I am from all that I wish not to be
And everything I wish to be me

 

 

“Where are you from?” That is the poetic topic at dVerse this week.

 

 

 

 

 

My Brother

Posted on

DSCF1851

Driving east from our hometown

I remember a sunset

Blazing behind me

Reds I’d never known

Tangerines twisted

In tones of blue silk

Ivory smiles, infectious

Masquerading as cirrus clouds

I think it was you, my brother

I think it was you

              ~

Miles were meaningless

Moments embedded in golden hues

Purple streams extended

Like arms that had my back

I never lost sight of your afterglow

Love as large as the sun

Fades not in distance

Or in hearts

I think it was you, my brother

I think it was you

Grace encouraged us to write about brothers/brotherhood for dVerse poetics.  I lost my only brother suddenly when he was 36.  This was written as I recalled the most amazing sunset, traveling home one day from the small town I grew up in. It just happened to be his birthday.


Letter of Termination

Posted on

letter of termination

Dear Winter,

We regret to inform you

That your services are

No longer required or desired

And we are tired

Of your blustery behaviour

Insubordinations have been noted

Refusing to exit before spring

Violating seasonal policies

And confronting Mother Nature

After she politely released you

Sassing back will not be tolerated

Be it hail, slush or sleet

We need heat

Which is definitely not your forte

We find your hexagon flakes

No longer enchanting

It seems that you are stuck

In a stationary front

Indecisive of your intentions

According to our almanac

Your departure is past due

Therefore a two week notice

Will not be necessary

Please gather all of your accumulations

And leave quietly

You can take the white out

We would be happy

To send a letter of reference

To Mr. J. Frost

Sincerely

Summer Loving People, Inc.

We’re writing letters at the pub tonight!

http://dversepoets.com/2015/04/07/poetics-lets-write-letters/

Speaking of Peace

Posted on

DSCF1204

 

We are but one decibel in the scream

One whisper of insight, unspoken

Tongues too frozen to speak

Or are we tone deaf to the sound of

Fingers running along wind chimes?

Glass, bamboo, shells, stones, porcelain, metal, wood

All different

Dangling in the same sweet sea breeze

Tapping on each others hearts

To find perfect harmony

~

Truth, peace, harmony, love” are part of the poetic prompt at dVerse this week.

Also written for Artists4Peace.

M’Lady

Posted on

heart

 

She was not impressed

With knights in armor

Shining or otherwise

Thirteenth century flair

Was lost on her

Yet there he stood

Encapsulated in iron

Pinache of red feathers

Her heart on his sleeve

Jousting for the prize

“I would rather drown in the moat

than watch this barbarian mockery”

She had her own codes

For chivalry and courtly love

~

Much medieval mayhem in the dVerse Poet’s Pub this week…we are celebrating!

Dearest Self

Posted on

DSCF1122

 

So I’ll let you know now

Not that it matters

‘Cuz there’s no stopping this time train

But I just thought you might

Appreciate some tips

Put away these 5 things

Paper money, photographs, a map

Sensitivity and creativity

I suppose I could have 3D projected

This info but I didn’t want to freak you out

Holograms are in these days

Soon you’ll be scanning yourself for disease

They’ll send you the results via…

Yep, you guessed it

Dr. Hologram

And as we battle over nothing in space

I’ll picture you

Sitting by your retro gas fireplace

Natural, of course

Sipping on green tea

We don’t do natural anymore

Take trees for example…

Yes, take a tree

Maybe a small bonsai you can hide

Because you’ll be charged extra just for having one

Advice from the heart…

Don’t let them implant anything in your head

Life was better before becoming an Android

“Look above you- it’s raining
Look around- there’s a flood
Who can say when it started,
but now the ghost is in our blood”

 

~

Grace at dVerse has asked us to imagine the future and write a poem or letter to ourselves in the here and now. The last stanza is from a poem by Ben Burke.

http://ideas.ted.com/a-poem-from-the-future/

 

This Storm Called Sandy

Posted on

storm sandy

 

Rising up, inhaling leaves
Exhaling with vengeance
Flimsy, unattended branches
Whipping at my tattered roof
Darkness surrounds me
Other than this trusty monitor
Sharing it’s light
As if to comfort me
While this raging force
Sweeps up my sense of security
I hate this storm
This storm called Sandy

Rising up, inhaling my fears
Exhaling with flippant attitude
Taking power from my hands
And dangling my safety
Like a twig left hanging precariously
From my beloved maple tree
The haunting, taunting noise
Bellows up, down, billows around
My tiny glowing haven
Enough to make me cringe
At the mindless power of wind
I hate this storm
This storm called Sandy

 

Over at dVerse today, MarinaSofia asked us to write about a time when we were “snowed in, iced out or in some other perilous winter situation”. Ironically, that was yesterday for me. We are still shoveling ourselves out. However, this particular piece was written in October 2012 when I actually feared for my home and my personal safety.

Hopeless Buttons

Posted on

Over at dVerse Poet’s Pub, Marina Sofia asked us to pull an inanimate object and an emotion out of a hat. The goal is to “write a poem about it, closely observing the humble object of your choice, whilst trying to convey the feeling you’re describing. Without using any abstract nouns (such as love, passion, jealousy etc.)”, to be more descriptive and concrete. This was my attempt at bravely stepping out of the “abstract” comfort zone.

 

Dust particles play
In sunbeams over dressers
Illuminating perfectly round
Accessories so necessary
For wardrobe function
Swirling marble tones
Vintage and four holed
Waiting for the needle
To sew in rhythmic fashion
With warm hands and purpose

Evening shadows stretch
Not reaching or embracing
Matching miniature moons
Left for days, for years
Identity lost in tangled threads
They will not make it to the shirt
Soft, flannel treasure
Long forgotten and tucked away
Until time and dust
Make camouflage of good intentions

~

http://dversepoets.com/2014/11/18/poetics-make-the-abstract-concrete/

Image credit: Wikipedia

Dead Man Smoking

Posted on

DSCF8489

You think you know me

But you don’t know yourself

I am what you will be

When you are me

I am your death wish come true

Your toxic utopia

Reality rotting while

Comforting words echo

Between the pews

I am the joke on you

Smoke on you blues

That you cannot sing

Without a voice

I am the end

To your choice

~

Today at dVerse, Grace shared the unique poetry of Marvin Bell and then challenged us to write from the perspective of the dead man (or woman)”.

Three Guitars

Posted on

DSCF0301

 

The great escape

From the black and white keys

Was my Fender

Shiny and smooth

Never been used

Fingers on frets

Calloused and tender

Took flight to the strings

Imprinting my skin

Tuning from ear

Playing by heart

Ascending my dreams

To my Takamine

Crystal clear

In sound and conviction

Lyrics of soul

Leaving lips

Not kissed

Love not lost

Hope only tossed

To dogma days

And sultry ways

Of my Ovation

Acoustic nirvana

Standing up tall

And I had the gall

To write, to sing

Create the flow

Of beat and sweet

Surrendering all

That I am

~

 

 

 Anthony gave us the opportunity to share our love of music today at dVerse.

My guitars of past and present are pieces of my life.

I would be lost without music.

Flight Delays

Posted on
brooke shaden

Image: Brooke Shaden “waiting to fly”

 

It is the longing

That shortens our days

Taking trips around the world

In paper planes

Diving perilously over

Our own dark skies

Only to come back empty

Pilot aborted, hope distorted

Deserted dreams repeated

Making over dramatic

Emergency landings

Before take off

 

 ~

For dVerse poetics, Grace introduced us to the most amazing, artistic photographer, Brooke Shaden. Her work is truly inspirational as a writing prompt.

http://brookeshaden.com/gallery/

On Dead Horse Point

Posted on

DSCF1264
Indigo on the horizon
Cauliflower clouds
Drawn childlike
Merely touch ups
On this ancient artwork
Like a desert backdrop
I wait for the curtain to fall
To end this dream
And here lies
The beauty of reality
The reality of beauty
Am I afraid to take another step
For fear of falling off this stage?
I am but a spectator
In this production
One descending particle
Over sandstone cliffs
Where wild mustangs roamed

~

Gabriella joins the team at dVerse and inspired us to write a travel poetry piece.

This view will be forever imprinted in my brain along with the

 Legend of Dead Horse Point.

Logic of Light

Posted on

logic of light

 

She was given the night

To ponder her pain

Soak in the rain

Feel the blade in her back

Evil, she called it

But why would the sun

Rise to the occasion

If there wasn’t one?

~

http://dversepoets.com/2014/09/09/poetics-bringing-light-to-darkness/

Where Earth Meets Sky

Posted on
8501400958_bf3a60be30_b

Image credit: Joel Robison

 

I sit here writing

About the possibilities

The sun setting on the horizon

As if it is so far away

Thinking I have to reach

Dreaming about dreams

When all I have to do

Is believe

That rainbows exist

The earth meets the sky

Thoughts merge with reality

And change is not work

Change is just catching up

To the truth

 

 

To see more of Joel Robison’s  extraordinary photography, visit  http://joelrobison.com/index.php/category/blog/

 

For dVerse

 

Finding My Own Beat

Posted on

This week at dVerse Poet’s Pub, we were given the opportunity to explore poetry we’ve already written to find one that best represented our own personal voice, our natural rhythm, so to speak. There seems to be an internal BEAT that makes it’s way into our poetry. Who knew?!

Seriously, this has been very enlightening. Thank you, Gay Reiser Cannon at dVerse! It’s amazing what one can learn about themselves from their own writing.

After careful consideration, I chose this one from the archives as it just seems to be the voice in my head. Syllables are marked in bold print to emphasize the way the beats take place for me.  A pause or “caesura” can also have a beat within the poem and these are shown with brackets (…)

My rhythm seems to be a little intense…but that should not surprise me.

 

Toronto

 

SKYSCRAPING

 

If I have to look up to see your grandeur

Then what importance do you hold for me? (…)

Everything essential to my heart and mind

Is in front of me (…)

Yes, I look to the sky, why wouldn’t I?

To the clouds, to the wind

To the spirit within

But not you (…)

You have always been my saboteur

Reminding me of the cold

That paralyzed my plight

Your capital charisma

Does nothing but amuse me

And I will not be impressed

By your obvious stateliness

For success is not dressed

The sun bares the truth

Magnified in your every window

Exposing your hard lines

Disclosing your designs

Of your eyes on the pie

As you scrape at the sky

 

http://dversepoets.com/2014/08/14/your-own-beat/