toss it up for grabs
till it falls foul
dance it quick-step
fast as you can
beach it
with head buried in sand
wad it
tear soaked tissues in hand
or
just get some!
Written for Misky’s Twiglets using the words “It’s a ball.”
Author: lillian
Bermuda Winter
Bermudean seas
aquamarine ripples glow
sun kiss dappled waves.
70 degrees and sunny today in Bermuda.
Imaginary Friend
My Namrah, fantastical beast,
is always waiting near.
When fear accompanies darkness,
I know he will be here.
He flies me to the shining stars,
appears within my dreams.
Lifts me up on widespread wings
and soars through sequined streams.
Frank is our guest host at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, and asks us to write a poem in common meter. This is one of the most difficult types of poetry for me to master. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time.
Suspended Souls
Unfinished church
home to homeless souls.
Emptiness
infests porous stone.
Spirits drift through arches,
windowless frames
seek solace in open spaces,
await blessing’s incantation
drifting . . .
caught in man’s indeterminate pause.
Photos of the Unfinished Church on a hill top in St. George’s, Bermuda. Gothic architecture, started in 1874. Funding problems and disagreement in the parish suspended construction in 1897. A 1926 hurricane destroyed the roof and much of the construction. The ruins are a protected site in St George’s, a UNESCO world Heritage Site.
Ode to an Anniversary
We’ve travelled together
through all these years
hand in hand, even apart,
exploring each twist and turn.
So much of our story behind us now,
turned down corners on favorite pages.
Still, we walk on, more slowly perhaps,
wizened bodies and fuller hearts.
Listen my love
as we choose our next path,
to these words I quietly say.
Thank you time, thank you you,
for this and every day.
Today Mish hosts dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. She interviews Ally R Saunders, a talented artist who spent most of her life in Nanaimo, includes some of her paintings and leads us to her website. I chose her painting Many Paths as the muse for today’s post. (My 47th anniversary is February 7 and Kim at dVerse just celebrated her anniversary) dVerse opens with this prompt at 3 PM Boston time.
Quadrille Me a Dawn
We are immersed.
Polar night
darkness unseamed.
Evil dawns as sun does not.
Erodes hope,
essence of democracy.
Revels in abysmal decrees
hurled again and again,
narcissistic plague.
Scepter spews clues
to personality disorder,
alternative reality.
We know however,
the midnight sun
shall rise.
Quadrille (poem consisting of exactly 44 words – not including title) posted for dVerse, virtual pub for poets. Today Björn asks us to use the word “dawn.” Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us! Photo from 2015 Alaska cruise.
Resistance
Hear the guttural call
a loon in the midst of porous fog.
Tall ships tack ‘gainst angry waves
sails unfurled defying blowhard wind.
Sturdy spruce dig in, roots entangled,
stand valiantly in permafrost.
Voices merge, rise from depths,
like dawning sun they swell.
Their magnitude undeniable,
push their way
gain strength and energy,
overcome darkened skies
You cannot dim her torch
it shines her promise for the many.
Those who passed her by in awe
eyes raised, hearts knowing
hope lives and shall
forevermore.
Geometric Maxim
Closed shapes separate,
inclusivity is an open arc.
photo in public domain
People . . .
Some exhale fresh air
with every breath.
Others spew pollution
from every pore.
Some sow smiles
like Johnny planted trees.
Others hurl thunderbolts
of anger and fear.
Some believe in we
live in the our.
Others tout two,
us versus them.
Some stand tall
no matter their stature.
Others think small
no matter their height.
Some people hope
as they pray for the others.
Willing the others
compassion for all.
Shared with dVerse OLN today….the virtual pub for poets. Everyone is invited to share one poem of their choosing. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join the fun! Photo in public domain.
Twiglet #8, two views
Like folding chairs
marred from years of abuse,
they wait to be used again.
—————————————
Like folding chairs unfolding
legs scrunched to body,
newborns squeal with protest.
Twiglet #8 is folding chairs. A twiglet is a short phrase. Or a word. Maybe two. Its aim is to “prompt” a flow. A thought. The idea is to create a poem or piece of prose using the twiglet as the jumping off point – the shorter the better! New twiglet prompts from Misky appear each Tuesday — join the fun! Photo in public domain.
