Time for a 44-word Quadrille in the dVerse poets Pub ~ WhimsyGizmo [ aka De ] is hosting ] The magic word today is JUMP or some form of the word jump.
problem is
they suck kids in
with tantalizing images of
bad boys
naughty girls
cigs dangling
from pouty moistened lips
~ come on, kids ~
jump on board the bandwagon
cigs for a boost
cigs to lose weight
cigs to look cool
~ teach your children well ~
Merril is hosting Poetics in the dVerse Poets Pub today ~ Butterflies are on her mind ~ and on ours as well. Words in color are butterfly names.
the sky has forgotten how to be blue
it hangs above Oregon like a grief
too heavy to name
its lungs full of ash
its heart beating in a frantic rhythm
forests collapsing into themselves
a cathedral of green
becoming a barrage of cinders
birdsong folded into silence
we search for something alive
LOOK ! butterflies
clouded yellow finding nectar
in flowers that insist on returning
orange sulphur lifting from fresh
clover like a small declaration
mourning cloak no longer mourning
but bearing witness
we cannot unburn the forests
but we can plant, rebuild porches
trails, homes and trust
we can plant one sapling beside another
one kindness next to another
until the land remembers itself
and perhaps the butterflies
[ who have always known
how impossible transformations begin ]
will find us there
Time for Poetics in the Pub ~ Kim is our host and shares Rupert Brooke's poem "The Great Lover"
Our challenge: create a "list poem" of times and things we've loved in our lives, that are precious. Poems must begin with 'these I have loved' and end with 'all these have been my loves'
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.
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
you seek a mortal form
yet find fresh air
sweet fleeting myth that lingers everywhere
i walk as whispers thru ancient trees
a phantom traced in starlight
and in a breeze i never lived
yet somehow i remain
your perfumed dream
dissolving in the rain
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
Mish is tending bar today in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ Her inspiration? Mel Robbins and the philosophy she follows!
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 }
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! }
Merril has us swooning over an image of roses in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ she has shared a list of names bestowed on the beauties ~ next come poems using a few of those names.
Sunrise
we greet ~ Summer Song sweet
Wind Rush and Sea Foam wherever we
roam
Tangles that bind ~ Quicksilver mind
Restless we wander
far from our home
No
Surrender calls through the long night
White
Wings are lifting our hearts into flight
Ebb
Tide is pulling ~ soft and untrue
tell
me oh tell me ~ will it be you
Peace
like a whisper we never quite keep
drifting
between us in shadow and sleep
*** If you are into music,
my poem's rhythm should read
like a waltz, a 6/8 time signature.
Think the theme song from Outlander.
Time for Poetics in the dVerse Poets Pub .. Melissa has us focused on the art of Gerard Sekoto, born in 1913 in South Africa .. our challenge .. compose an ekphrastic poem!
Woman With Downcast Eyes, 1955
I carry the morning on my shoulders
heavy as the tin roof trembling in the wind
some days the dust calls me by name
coating my skin
settling in my breath
how much of this world
am I willing to swallow?
I walk with eyes lowered
not in shame but in study
I have learned to stitch hope
from the smallest of threads
a child's laughter, the blooming jacaranda
Let them say the world is unkind
let them say the load is too much
I will carry it anyway
step by step
breath by breath
Kim is hosting Poetics in the dVerse Poets Pub * "When Love disappears .. Where does it go?" is the burning question * and the inspiration for our poems.
Laura hosts Meeting the Bar in the dVerse Poets Pub .. inviting us to write an epistolary letter / poem in verse or prose form.
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 ]
Tuesday in the dVerse Poets Pub means time for Poetics .. Grace is hosting and reminds us "false spring" [ that fragile time between seasons ] provides great inspiration, literally and metaphorically, for composing poetry.
in my city we are promised winter
the honest kind that creaks bones of trees
writes its name in frosted breath
instead we got a half-hearted draft
a penciled-in season never pressing
hard enough to leave a mark
we donned coats in the morning
out of habit not necessity
gloves, scarves more nostalgia than need
somewhere winter was happening
rivers locked in thought
fields frozen clean, snowy white quiet
in my city we linger, a polite misunderstanding
a false spring that forgot its lines
a false winter that never learned them