Scarlet Fever

Time for Poetics in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ Lillian is hosting ~ she asks us to bring our crayons, its' time to color poetry!!! Found my box of 64, reworked an oldie.

Christopher Shay ~  Red Umbrella

midnight in Bangkok

behind a camouflaged door 

where deals are done 

bargains struck, goods exchanged 

head down, shoulders hunched, walk away

with your precious stash of hash 

tucked inside that tiny scarlet bag

 smoke it, blow it, get on with it, it's your life

but you will need that lovely red umbrella

 

for all the rainy nights in Bangkok

This Would Be Me

 Melissa is hosting Poetics in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ our poetic challenge ~ the ‘unpunctuated’ poem.

while others dive 

beneath blankets

counting seconds between 

flash and boom

i fling open 

the curtains

hostess with the 

mostest

thunder arrives wearing 

muddy boots

lightning shows off like 

my cocky cousin at a reunion

and i sit there grinning

the neighborhood oddity 

with weather in her heart

it's called ceraunophilia

which sounds suspiciously 

like a tropical disease

but it simply means

when the sky throws 

a tantrum

i feel strangely at home

in my element

Game Time ~

 Dora is hosting Poetics in the Pub ~ 'Similes' on the menu!

Wikipedia

* She walks into the stadium like a cat

wandering into a physics lecture

eyes wide, mouth open, already

wondering where they keep the 'Sports Manuals'

* She clutches her ticket like it's

a Wonka golden pass ~ except she's pretty sure 

the Super Bowl means actual bowls

maybe chili ~ maybe guacamole

she's down for both

* She cheers for the wrong team

like a GPS stuck on 'recalculate'

but her friends don't mind

her enthusiasm is contagious

spreading through the crowd like 

glitter on a kindergarten craft table

* She asks why the man in the striped shirt

 keeps throwing laundry on the field 

the guy next to her laughs so hard

he could become the 'highlight reel'

* She analyzes play like a poet

deciphering tax forms

tilts her head, squints ~ announces

"I think they're doing strategy."

* She stands to cheer at exactly the wrong moment

like a toaster popping up during wedding vows ~

somehow making the moment better

the crowd adores her ~ because

* She is joy wrapped in confusion

a woman at the Super Bowl, like a tourist

stepping onto the moon ~ planting her flag anyway

Looking Back

 Punam is hosting Poetics in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ she asks us to look back one last time at 2025 ~ write about ways the year impacted us.     

Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes ~~

I measured them in anger sharp enough to taste

politics  pounding at the door of my chest

demanding I choose a side

In despair so vast it crossed oceans

Ukraine's broken mornings 

mothers counting children instead of years

Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes ~~

I measured them in the quick lift of joy 

of laughter surprising me midair

in the warmth of hands I trust

In minutes measured with pride 

the quiet kind, helping others 

without needing applause

Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes ~~

The Measure

 

Time for Poetics in the Pub ~ Melissa offers this line from Leo Tolstoy's 'The Death Of Ivan Ilych' ~ she requests we write a poem about a time our actions aligned with that idea ~ and a time they did not.

In the 50's our mothers were the compass

carrying duty like a second skin

rarely speaking of desire, ambition

only their overwhelming desire for us

to be happy, healthy and safe

Marriage came like a costume i was fitted into

children, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed

joy i wrapped myself in, the heart of our home

and in those moments 

when children's laughter filled the air

i felt my worth like warm sun on skin

How then did we falter

grow stale, heavy

expectations pressed against our chests

divorce a shadow we never imagined

yet after decades, the silence cracked open

We stood shaken, but strangely free

wondering if we had ever truly chosen

or merely followed a script

our mothers had wordlessly handed down

We did the best we could

with the tools we'd been given

our story did not end as promised

it did end in the quiet courage

of an enduring kind of love

of beginning again

Outlander

Merril is hosting Poetics in the Pub ~~ our  focus is on

triumph and defeat. " Outlander" is one of my favorite drama series ~ difficult to get the theme music and storyline out of my head ~ after a recent binge! Have a listen ...

There is a fine line
between triumph and defeat
a sword's width, a heartbeat
the breath held between
yes and no

I stand where stones hum
where time itself
is an open wound

The wind carries echoes
your voice
not quite here
not quite gone

"Sing me a song of a lass that is gone"
and I wonder
if the lass was ever me

To Be ~ Or Not To Be

Time for Poetics in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ Merril is hosting ~ the subject of "fate" is the direction we are heading ~ how we interpret fate, how fate impacts our lives ~~

Fate it seems wears a lab coat

scribbling notes in the 

margins of my chromosomes

chuckling over coffee with 

Madame Destiny ~ betting on whether 

I'll get my Dad's cholesterol or

my Mother's luscious brunette locks

DNA that sneaky old scroll

rolled up tight like a military tent

passed along like fruitcake

nobody wants ~ but everyone takes

a bite of

I am a walking talking heirloom

fair skin and blue eyes ~ both

second-hand traits

proof that nature loves

a remix and

fate has a sense of humour!

Tossed Salads and Scrambled Eggs

 

Meetup in the Pub ~ the dVerse Pub ~ Melissa is hosting. It's time to reflect on favorite Television Shows. Past and/or present. I was  a huge fan of  Frasier starring Kelsey Grammer.  

Come let's meet Frasier one erudite guy

at his Seattle condo way up in the sky

radio shrink with a voice debonair

yet chaos surrounds him ~ his burden to bear

Next let's meet Niles his fastidious brother

a germaphobe fussier than most any other

hopelessly smitten with Daphne’s sweet charms

but spends half the series just waving his arms

Daphne their housemate with wit dry and wry

keeps the Cranes grounded when tensions run high

a Brit with cute quirks and visions divine

Niles loves her madly floats on cloud nine

Martin their dad in his battered old chair

blue-collar cop with stories to spare

and Eddie his dog who Frasier ignores

would rather see Eddie living outdoors

Roz the producer quite sassy and bold

great at her job keeps Frasier controlled

dating disasters ~ yes more than a few

followed by laughter and quest for next coup

From opera’s high notes to their café au laits

the schemes that collapsed in farcical ways

to Frasier and Gang who brought me delight

a glass full of pinot ~ I cheer you tonight

Our Son, Carl

 Grace is tending bar in the dVerse Poets Pub and has invited Andrew to guest host. Andrew asks us to use an issue we feel strongly about, raises our ire ~ and write a poetic rant. I composed this poem in 2012, I feel as passionate about it today as I did then. 

I watch as they stare

snicker under their breaths

'retard' the word Carl hears, I hear  

stop! I scream inside my head

JUST FUCKING STOP

my son is a thinking, feeling human being

who happens to be developmentally disabled

he is kind, funny, generous, trusting and capable

he makes everyone in his life "better"

ignorant people like you 

people who snicker and stare

humiliate and mock 

do not deserve to walk on the

same side of the street with him

"Rusty The Train"

 Punam has us concentrating on trains in the dVerse Poets Pub! 

In the early 90's I attended a performance of Andrew Lloyd Weber's "Starlight Express" in London's West End Theatre District. The performers were ALL on roller skates.  I found it thoroughly enchanting!   

With your 'indulgence' a poem from my blog, the year 2013. 

held on to the past
as long as he could
rust ~ it destroyed him
we knew that it would

in prime time he rolled 
over mountains and plains
Rusty the Noble
King of all Trains

put out to pasture

his best years are gone

ghost of his old form

scant muscle, lost brawn

lies in a pasture

alone and bereft

too old to be useful

lost tonnage, no heft

beyond restoration

no hope for him now

scrappers are coming

the bell tolls for thou

remember him fondly

remember him well

Rusty the Powerful

before his death knell

Lost In The City

Louis Wain ~ untitled

shadows fall ~ she wanders alone

wisps of sorrow ~ silent moan

through moonlit alleys ~ softly prowls

heart's lament ~ in midnight howls

streets are cold ~ devoid of grace

aloneness is a cold embrace

moon and stars ~ in quiet sleep 

 kitty roams through shadows deep

her beloved lost this night 

searching now with all her might

Every street lamp seems to beat a fatalistic warning **   Lyric from "Memory"  

Andrew Lloyd Webber's CATS

 In the Pub ~ Melissa introduced us to artist, Louis Wain. The subject is CATS!

Search No More

 Punam has challenged dVerse poets to think long and hard about the cities we live in ~ turn those thoughts into poetry!

Winter in Bend ~ For Nineteen Years

After moves that spanned seven states, each with its unique charm and character, I found my forever home in the heart of the Pacific Northwest ~ Bend Oregon. I have experienced diverse landscapes and cultures in Illinois, Missouri, Minnesota, Maryland, Georgia and Florida; my heart resonates most profoundly with Bend.

What sets Bend apart is not just its breathtaking outdoors, but the sense of community that permeates every corner. Despite being a city, Bend has a small-town charm; people genuinely care about one another. Whether its' our local farmer's market, community events ~ or simply strolling through historic downtown, a strong sense of camaraderie prevails. A spirit of innovation and creativity thrives here ~ I take full advantage of every opportunity that comes my way!

In Bend I've found my anchor. Though lovely memories of other states linger, Bend is where my heart feels truly at home.

here there everywhere

climatic kaleidoscopes

in Bend forever

Backward Glance

Sanaa offers quite the dVerse challenge today! Poetry utilizing the litote! A figure of speech; a rhetorical device used to make an understatement by negating the opposite of the intended message; in other words, a nice way to soften a blunt statement. I chose to write a narrative where the main character stands out.

Masks on Fire, March 25, 2022 ~~ Our driveway

I felt no remorse

no unrepentant guilt 

tossing what felt like 

hundreds of  

unused masks 

into that roaring fire!

Vintage Blend

It's Poetics Tuesday in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ Melissa reminds us it is "National Spicy Guacamole Day" in the US of A. To that end she provided us with more than a few appropriate words (we must use at least four) to include in our poems. I detoured 'round the guac. 

they say you're a shell 

of your former self

lost those quirky raw edges

your talking points ..

spice-less, bland, boring 

I prefer you older

no brash bravado

finely tuned with age

no more battles to wage ..

no more wars to win 

Dead Poets Society

In the dVerse Poets Pub ~~ 

My inspiration, Poet ~ Siegfried Sassoon ~ “When I'm Among a Blaze of Lights” ~ he certainly had a way with rhyme. 

in the city's rush and throng

I seek a place where I belong

amidst the whispers of tall trees

gentle hum of honey bees

meadows lush, deep green and wide

where wildflowers in abundance hide

for in the stillness of the night

I find my peace, my heart's delight

when I'm among a blaze of lights

within the city's sleepless nights

I feel a longing deep and true

for quiet space and skies of blue

Folding Autumn Into Poetry

 

~~ with Jaime's permission / Drake Park, Bend Oregon ~~

carved faces grinning in the velvet night

harvest moon, a silver lantern's gleam

is this reality or simply a lovely dream

autumn's grasp feels tender

apple cider on my lips in the velvety night

dampened leaves beneath my feet

fragrant dance, my world transformed

autumn's essence, tangible, surreal

canvas of memories our hearts conceal

bonfire smoke that gently weaves a

tapestry of love in the quiet night 

Melissa has us "folding poetry into Autumn" in the Pub  

Standing Tall

Lori Crawford Arnold

A Mother’s Prayer

 give us strength to teach our daughters

to understand the value of their gender

give us courage to teach our daughters

to stand tall in the face of their own power

help them uncover their inner strength

by turning it into the power of

ten thousand tsunamis

give them courage to take back 

what is rightfully theirs