Cruelty

you loved me
as I was you said
then dismembered me
your hands, your will
debased my sense of self
erased my core
left me sightless
looking for me

face-1279654_1920

Hosting dVerse for Tuesday Poetics — a virtual pub for those who enjoy working with words and creating poetry. Today, I’m asking folks to find a sculpture that inspires them — and then to write in the voice of that sculpture — become either the artist who created the piece, or the subject of the sculpture. Don’t tell us about the sculpture, rather take on its voice.  Come on over and see what others do — or how about joining us and lending your voice too?

Difference Defined

bambambambambambambambambambambam
swing it round, this way, now that
bambambambambambambambambambambam

walk quietly in forest glen
seek movement in grasses tall
watch, scope, carefully

bambambambambambambambambambambam
blood spills, rounds and rounds
one load’s cacophony of death

deer and pheasant, field to table
smiling faces, club to grave

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Quadrille using word “spill” written for today’s dVerse. Also written in response to the Pulse Club Massacre. Fact: same type of semi-automatic weapon used in the Sandy Hook shooting. There are reasonable steps that can be taken that do not dismantle the 2nd amendment.

After the rains

Spring storm dissipates
leaves slow misting veil.
Ants scurry back to work
beneath uncurled ferns.

Trillium carpets damp earth.
White three-petal clusters
speckled by raindrops,
sit atop shiny green leaves.

Whitening clouds skirt the sky,
grey gives way to light.
Star-shaped pink laurels
turn faces to the dappled sun.

 

Finding Me

My job surprised me. I was a person I thought I was not. Travelling the world alone, meeting with corporate VIPs like I knew their business. Their eyes looked for someone else when they entered the room. And they found just me. India, Morocco, Germany, China, Thailand. And just me.

In Brazil, on a rare no-appointment day, I took a flying leap. Quite literally.

Strapped to a stranger, we took five running steps to the mountain’s edge and I was hang gliding. He started to talk. Point out landmarks below. Shhhh. Please, no. Silent exhilaration as we drifted through rays of sun. Slow banks turned me to a spiritual place: empowered, thankful, proud. I am doing this. Feet touched earth after ten minutes of solitude strapped to a man I knew not. And during that time, a lifetime of time, I became a new me.

Breeze flows midst rays of sun
clouds drift through golden shimmer
let go, let God, and soar.

Haibun written for dVerse Poets’ Pub, Open Link Night. Poets may post a poem of their choice. Photos: yep – that’s me.

Star Song

one star per dance
beneath the sliver moon
come with me and be my love
one star per dance

one star per dance
your lips and mine shall meet
bodies meld together
one star per dance

one star per dance
look up and know my love
the galaxy forevermore
one star per dance

universe-1282375_1920

It’s Poetic Tuesday at dVerse and  Mish asks us to become songwriters today, remembering to “lighten up our phrases to make them singable” — use repetition, create a refrain.  I’ll leave you to make up the tune! 🙂  Photo from pixabay.com

 

 

Night

Tis the waking in the dark. Hand to chest feels ribcage move. Head cocked, hears slight puff from lips. Tis a daily night time wakening. Assured, rest returns.

nature electrifies the sky
streaks of night light reassure
her creatures rest calmly in the rain

thunderbolt-1158506

A haibun written as a Quotidian. Toni is tending bar at dVerse Poet’s Pub and defines Quotidian as an ordinary happening. Of course, the ordinary happenstance differs from person to person — so drop on by dVerse and read the various takes on this prompt! Or join in, and write one yourself.

New Day

Reminded not too long ago that life is transitory, I begin each day in a slow deliberate way. After padding into our galley kitchen in slippers and robe, a morning ritual begins. Paper cone unfolded, fits inside the top half of a glass carafe. Five carefully measured tablespoons of fresh ground beans are placed inside. Two and one-third cups of boiling water held aloft, I pour just enough to saturate the grounds. And then I count. One-thousand-one, one-thousand-two, one-thousand-three. Moist grounds aerate thirty seconds as I lean in to inhale. Water held aloft again, ever so slowly poured, counterclockwise. Dark liquid foams and slowly seeps into the glass carafe. Filter empties, save wet brown clinging to its sides. Paper sieve discarded, I pour steaming hot elixir into a white ceramic mug. Anticipation rising, I pad my way to the study and sit for that first sip. Eyes closed, savoring the taste and scent. And now, journal and pen in hand, I write. Thankful for this new day.

Coffee beans grown in hot sun
roasted to robust, slowly brewed,
nature’s wake-up call.

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It’s Haibun Monday at dVerse! Today Toni asks us to write a Quotidian. Quotidian means daily — refers to something that happens daily or that we use daily.

Outcast

she stood, vulnerable, waiting
waves of jeers cast upon her
cold stares
her life as the different

hands on hips, defiantly exposed
cold
aasplashes
aaaaaof so-called humanity
hardballs hurled in hatred

ignorance deflected
she dared to say
quietly, firmly,
i am
me

IMG_4340Photo Credit: video displayed at Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts; Monomorphic, 2013 by Nick Night and Geoffrey Lillemon.

Elegy

Father to five, beloved son,
you left far too suddenly.
Unable to escape or run,
knees buckled at Death’s glee.

And we were left behind in shock,
screams and rampant grief.
Angry words turned empty talk,
echoed wails with no relief.

Standing graveside, stooped in loss,
tears drenched with memories
fell upon your coffin etched with cross,
placed ‘neath quaking Aspen trees.

Rest now, my brother dear
and know that we are well.
Your children’s children keep you near,
and their children shall as well.

For all their hopes in future years
their smiles, their deeds in numbers swell,
all of these my brother dear
your legacy do tell.

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Written for dVerse — asking us to do an elegy today.
Photo is my brother, nine years older than me, died far too young at 51. Gone more than twenty years, I still miss him.