Posterity and Me!

Bjorn invites to a meet-up in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ his poetic challenge for us  *Verbification*  I re-worked a poem from 2023 about Holograms and Helen.

holograms yesterday themselves into static dust

three dimensional light beams instantly orphaned

AI blue-prints a brave new world

engineering our ghosts

data-mining for virtual immortality

manufacturing digital duplicates

to populate the void

we bequeath text-streams at the grave

chat-bots programmed to simulate 

out-live, mirror-image the flesh

we cobble fragmented histories

video-stitch old glances, letter-box faded ink

blog-post stray thoughts into an algorithmic pulse 

every memory loaded, injected 

processed into the machine

do we dare resurrect, dare posterity ourselves

for the coming centuries

i assure my family it's possible

they merely laugh

question my sanity   

Darkness Descends

Laura hosts Meeting the Bar in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ time to revisit a challenging form, 'the Cadralor'

On October 15th, in Bend Oregon, at Iron Rail Elementary School, a 16-year old gunman killed three special needs children and their teacher. Another child and teacher remain hospitalized. The shooter is dead, taken down by the father of two students who carries a concealed firearm permit. He was driving home from work for lunch and saw the shooter climbing over the school fence with a shotgun.  

small hands held fast, hiding their fear

their teacher stood, a shield of strength 

we lit candles, a vigil through the night

three tiny lights, lifetimes left to live

stolen by the sudden freeze of dark

autumn's sky in Bend dimmed

chalkboards fade, silent desks remain

a community wrapped in shared grief

its peaceful air of "place" ripped away

unimaginable pain descends on families

Bend, we hold your heavy heart

side by side our mountain town will stand

lifting each other through darkness 

the pitch black soul that exists

in a world that's not ok

 

  

Five Thousand Miles and Counting

We are gathered in the dVerse Poets Pub this evening to share poems we wrote in response to a challenge from Laura who asks us to write about 'leaving home' and the four directions we might head from there. 

do i or don't i

should i or shouldn't i

will i or won't i 

hitch a ride

run away from home

north takes me where

the winds blow cold

snows run knee-deep

but they say hearts are warm

and doors open wide for strangers

east is way cool - where things happen

museums, a deli on every corner 

broadway, ballet, opera ~

but they say it's very crowded

and folks pass without smiling

south is lush and warm

beaches made for walking, shell hunting

theme parks and walt's friends

but oh the endless humidity

and the ever-present annoying snowbirds

west must be best

this van is headed that direction

look, there's a photo of me plastered 

on the side - must be a sign, an omen

westward ho, away i go

 

 

It's a Descort!!

Grace is hosting Meeting the Bar in dVerse Poets Pub today .. our challenge .. compose a Descort ~ a medieval French lyric genre where every line and stanza intentionally breaks uniformity, varying widely in length, meter, and rhyme.

 Alone With My Thoughts

i love dancing by 

myself

apples on our tree 

            changing color!

would you stay with me ~~ forever ??

it's way way way too cold here today   ❄❄❄❄❄

[ furnace on ]

stayin' alive, sort of

..... slowly i hope

~~ just tell me ~~ where is

 

Barry Gibb when i need him ?!

A Cross-stitch In Time

Time for Meeting The Bar in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ Laura is host and asks us to write poems using compounded forms of a word we choose. I chose the word "cross".

Seated at my Grandmother's feet

laughing hard not missing a beat

[the cross-stitch]

The pattern she chose is complex

now Grammy is needing her specks

[fingers crossed]

Grammy claims it's very easy

counting stitches easy peasy

[cause cross-eye]

How many colors must she choose

too many shades simply confuse

[try cross-hatch]

It's one tiny stitch at a time

there's no way to make this line rhyme

[been cross-checked] 

And So It Was

Time for Meeting the Bar in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ Laura requests we choose a line from Dylan Thomas, compose an acrostic using each of the words ~ let our imaginations wander. During a family reunion years ago many stories of my maternal grandparents were shared ~ my acrostic is imaginary and only hope it would ring true if they could read it.

I chose a line from one of my Dylan Thomas favorites "The Fern"

"In the sun that is young once only"

Wikipedia

IN

the first wild summer of your kiss

i believed the moon itself leaned close to listen

certain youth would never fade

THE

roses climbed our windows without shame

sweet crimson mouths opening as we laughed

while time stood barefoot in the garden

SUN

poured gold upon your hair

love burned quick as butterflies took  flight

beautiful because they could not stay

THAT 

autumn found us quiet

holding hands through storms 

learning devotion has a steady flame

IS

it not strange how young love dazzles the eye

yet older love becomes the hearth itself

the place weary souls return to warm their hands

YOUNG

our promises beneath trembling stars

age taught us the truer vow

to remain when beauty alters its face

ONCE

i feared the silver in your hair

until i saw how tenderly the years

had etched mercy into your smile

ONLY 

now do i understand romance

not the swift fire but the glowing ember

that survives the longest winter .. and still gives light

Just For Fun!

  Bjorn has us concentrating on lists today in the dVerse Poets Pub ~~ I felt like being contrary.

Lists bore me to tears

it's freedom I seek

the great out of doors

{ like fording a creek }

I've a list of twelve chores

wouldn't you know

can't find where I put it

{ I'll go with the flow }

At my advanced age

it really won't matter

creating those  lists

{ like thoughts, they will scatter }

Join me now friends

just crumple that list

let's meet at town's square

{ you get my gist }

We're going to have fun

those projects can wait

there's always tomorrow

{ now don't you be late! }

The "Professor"

Laura hosts Meeting the Bar in the dVerse Poets Pub .. inviting us to write an epistolary letter / poem in verse or prose form.

 

Dear Professor Franklin C Kreider,

Beloved Director, CHS High School Band: 

You are most deserving of my everlasting gratitude 

in 1955, at the tender age of fourteen, I entered high school 

an aspiring "first chair" flautist in the nationally acclaimed

Collinsville Illinois High School Band.

Three national championships and barred from National competition

so what did you do, took our show on the road

Niagara Falls, Pikes Peak, a new destination each Spring

four Greyhound Busses packed with kids, chaperones, instruments 

concert venues, standing ovations, encores, quite the head rush.

Those tours taught me more than you could know

how to quell stage fright, how to feel joy in performing 

an appreciation for music in all its myriad forms

you made me a better musician, encouraged my talent, believed in me

and yes, made my dream of playing "first chair flute" come true.

I'm old now, Professor Kreider, as were you when first we met

my embouchure is compromised, muscle tone has diminished 

hitting high notes close to impossible 

something I could never have imagined as a teen.

I am blessed with countless memories .. musicians who are still friends 

endless stories .. shared with my children and grandchildren

actually .. anyone willing to listen ..  

YOU, Dear Professor, made that possible.

Fondly, 

Your favorite flautist 

Helen Louise Klenke 

[ Dehner today ]

MAGNIFICENT OBSESSION

 Time to Meet Up in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ Kim is hosting ~ our challenge today is to write an Acrostic poem using a name ~ any name we choose. Those who know me, understand my undying love for the man, the poet, the voice ~~ Leonard Cohen. My acrostic is all about HIM.

BEFORE

LOW VELVET VOICE THAT LINGERS IN MY SOUL

EVERY WORD A QUIET CONFESSION 

OLD WORLD CHARM WRAPPED IN SHADOW

NIGHTS ARE DEEPER WITH HIS MUSIC

A POET WHO UNDERSTOOD LONGING

REVERENCE IN EVERY BROKEN HALLELUJAH

DESIRE DRESSED IN CLASSY DIGNITY

DURING

LURING HIM WITH DINNER, CANDLELIGHT, WINE

EYES THAT HAVE SEEN TOO MUCH TO RUSH OFF

OH, YOU AREN'T LEAVING JUST YET !!

NO DOOR IS OPEN ONCE YOU JOIN ME

AFTER ALL, I HAVE WAITED A LIFETIME 

RESISTANCE MIGHT BE CHARMING, BUT FUTILE

DINNER MAY END ~~ BUT WE CERTAINLY WON'T

LATER

LIPS THAT TURN LYRICS INTO TEMPTATION 

EVERY LINE A SLOW, SLOW BURN

OBSESSION FEELS LIKE HEAVEN WHEN YOU SING 

NOTHING ABOUT US IS INNOCENT THIS NIGHT

A MAN WHO MAKES SHEER SILENCE SEDUCTIVE

ROOM GROWS MORE INTIMATE BY THE SECOND

DON'T EXPECT ESCAPE ~~~~~~ 

Signed, Sealed, Delivered.

 Grace is hosting Meeting the Bar in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ Poems with questions ~ no answers!

do people who draft their own obituaries

have a clear sense of identity

a quiet sense of 'this is who I've been' 

is the attempt itself a kind of reaching

a hand groping for shape in a darkened room

how does life fit into a handful of sentences

years spilling over the edges refusing to be boxed

if we write our own endings

are we confessing or curating

do we polish the parts that might sting

or leave them raw for honesty's sake

 

and when we've finally figured life out

what are we supposed to do with the answer

exactly when does later become 'too late'

The A B C's of Aging

Time for Meeting the Bar in the dVerse Poets Pub ~  Laura is hosting and challenges us to write an acrostic poem of twenty-six lines, each line beginning with a letter of the alphabet [ in sequential order ] 

Tuscany ~ 2016

Aging teaches us to listen longer / before we speak

Breath becomes a companion / never taken for granted

Creativity no longer proves anything / it simply "is"

Deep introspection feels less like digging / more like remembering

Energy is precious / we learn where it belongs

Forgiveness arrives quietly / on gossamer wings

Generosity widens / not with things but with patience

Humility replaces urgency / we no longer rush the truth

Inner voices soften / we simply stop engaging with them

Judgement loosens its grip / beginning with each individual

Kindness becomes instinct / instead of effort

Loss teaches how fiercely we have loved / have been loved

Meditation opens up space / where angst once lived

Nothing needs to be proven at this altitude / on this journey

Observation deepens / we notice what would have slipped past

Presence becomes the greatest gift we can offer

Quiet moments carry more wisdom than loud opinions

Rest is no longer earned / it is honored

Spirituality stretches beyond belief / becomes lived experience

Time feels less like a threat / more like a teacher

Unlearning becomes as important as learning

Vulnerability reads as strength / not exposure

Wisdom gathers as long as we remain curious

X marks the crossover from striving to arriving

Yielding reinforces grace / it lies within each of us   

Zen arrives not as perfect peace / but as peace allowed

Generations

  Time for Meeting the Bar in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ Laura's challenge is the Chaucerian Roundel ~

Three generations sketched, frozen in time

each of us different, like yang and like yin

each shaped by childhood, defined from within

Decades together, memories sublime

cooking and laughter, the yarns we would spin

Three generations sketched, frozen in time

each of us different, like yang and like yin

Three sisters left, the female paradigm

would we pass muster? I ask with a grin

how to say thank you, where would I begin

three generations sketched, frozen in time

each of us different, like yang and like yin

each shaped by childhood, defined from within  

 

She'll Be Back!!!

 Laura hosts Meeting the Bar today in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ our challenge is to compose a Quatern. which is a French Verse Form.

I want to be a hologram

projecting light .. no flesh no bone

a shimmered ghost with time to spare

who shares advice .. a point of view 

Chats at breakfast, to launch her day

a simple back and forth she seeks

                                  I want to be a hologram

I am present .. thoughtful and wise  

She asks "Mama, what should I do"

I hum and tilt .. share my best

I want to be a hologram

immortal .. pixel-perfect me

But then perhaps she'll pull the plug

"enough advice .. you never stop"

and poof .. her life is calm again

I want to be a hologram

Journey to Dinner

Bjorn hosts Meeting the Bar in the Poets Pub today. Our prompt:  write from a different perspective than we usually do ~  challenge ourselves with something new ~ I published a version of this poem in April 2010 .. I would categorize it as 'first person with observation of others' ~ going to rewrite, using second person perspective this time around.

you watch as their day 

comes to a close

you can't help but feel 

tenderness in the moment

you see the endless shuffling 

of bodies and souls

some steady on their own

some pushed in wheeled chairs

you follow their familiar journey to a room

they may not remember in the morning

you wonder if he or she will be there tomorrow

the thought lingers longer than you'd like

you realize how deeply you've grown to care

how attached you've become

how much of yourself you leave with them

Oh Yes.

 Time for a meet-up in the dVerse Poets Pub ~  Björn is hosting and it's Meeting the Bar Thursday ~ our challenge ~ a Cinquain!

cheers to

margaritas

having fun in the sun

the breeze is cool the sand is hot

olé

frolic

till the sun sets

never forget this day

we were meant to be together

always

********************

and for a change of pace ~~

test me

i come alive

at the top of my game

nobody's gonna stop me now

no way

test me

throw me to wolves

i will teach them to dance

i want to go where i am scared

solo

Unanswered

Time for Meeting the Bar in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ Laura  requests we use the 'ubi sunt' motif in our poems; ask open-ended questions beginning with the likes of "where are all" / "where is the"  ~ questions that remain unanswered. 

Harvest Moon (wallpaper by boodie at DeviantArt)

Where Is the Dancing ~ the Magic ~ the Moon

why is the harvest moon not 

low and large ~ resting on the horizon

where ~ oh where is it hiding

where is the music ~ the singing

melodies i can no longer hear 

where is the man who knew 

how to dance me dizzy

our threads pulled taut 

between the here and gone

I'm still in love with him

i want to dance with him again

[ draft ]

Merril is hosting Meeting the Bar in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ we are using the "cherita" poetry form today! 

the Gilded Age

oh how I would have embraced fashion

the bows, frills, lace, intricate beadwork

corsets guaranteed to cinch my waist

décolletage with shoulders exposed

no mere ornament, a lady of substance