Center stage, porch light blazing, oohed and aahed at by passersby. Bright eyes lit from within. But candle burns, continually drips. Insides shrivel, eyes begin to droop. Carved in grin begins to sneer.
Inevitably the brouhaha ends crowds thin, candle burns out. Orange flesh sags, collapses from within. Maggots begin to appear. You should have known, pumpkins do rot.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today is OLN (Open Link Night) at dVerse so we can post any one poem of our choosing. No required topic, form or length.
nature’s cancan skirts vivid orange, gold, crimson red leaves delight the eyes
windows opened wide fresh breezes ruffle curtains pumpkins on display
witches roam the streets moms and dads with little ones door to door for treats
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Dora’s prompt is entitled Tripping the October Light Fantastic. She asks us to write a poem about October. Photo from last October in Boston’s Public Garden.
parched petals litter tabletop tears cling to eyelashes skeletal tree limbs crack as blizzard careens from sky
sunrise announces joyful day as cherry blossoms bloom yes bedazzled by love bouquet gifted, she smiles
seasons and emotions change age wizens beauty Your love, her always
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today I’m hosting our Quadrille Monday and asking folks to write a poem of EXACTLY 44 words, sans title, and include the word “petals” (or a form of the word) in the body of the poem. A synonym will not suffice.
Scam artist ~ preyed on teenage girls. Sarah was smitten. Invited to the party, good and plenty ripe with handsome bachelors all waiting to score.
Twenty years her junior, mints in his pocket to wash away whiskey breath, he sidled up to her. Join me outside? I’m not into alcohol not into these wild parties.
She believed him. Chatted gamely as they left. Went to his penthouse hotel room.
Next day, found by the maid. Strangled, disheveled, damaged. But he was long gone. On the kitchenette counter, unopened Oreos package, glass of milk, Duds and Suds business card propped up by the toaster.
Handwritten message on the card: I like ‘em young. Listen to their dreams. All of ‘em wanna be sugar babies, I just make it happen. Catch me if you can. Love to all, Mr. Goodbar
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today I’m hosting and listing 27 candy bars/candies and asking folks to include at least one in their poem. If the candy includes the word “bar/bars”, those words can be eliminated…but the candy name must be used exactly as it is. No words can be added between the words in the name.
Apologies for the darkness of this poem….sometimes my words go to the dark side. Perhaps it’s all the Jeffrey Epstein stories in the news right now. I know this is a frightening poem, even though it uses the following candies: Good and Plenty, Junior Mints, Milk Duds, Sugar Babies and Mr. Goodbar. I do not mean to make light of the Epstein files and their relationship to #47. It is a horrible story and one that must completely be released to the public. Again, apologies but the poem just came from my pen. My first poem for this prompt is MUCH HAPPIER!
Mr. Goodbar and the Red Hots jazz like you’ve never heard it before!
The Sugar Babies, Twizzlers and Sweetarts let your imaginations think about that!
Mike & Ike serving the best hootch in town great way to cap your payday!
Leave the Missus at home or bring her along she’ll enjoy the Big Hunk struttin’ his stuff!
A bit-o-honey for everyone AT THE KIT KAT, WE NEVER DISAPPOINT!
It’s Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today, I’m hosting and having a bit of fun with the prompt. I’ve listed names of twenty-seven candy bars and asked folks to create a poem that includes at least one of them in their poem. They’re free to include more than one from the list if they choose. If they select a candy with the word “bar” or “bars” in it, IE Oh Henry Bars, they can drop the word “bars/bar” — however, except for dropping that word, they must include the name of the candy exactly as it’s named in the prompt…no words in between etc. Can you find the candy bars I’ve included?
Image created on Bing Create. Candies I’ve included: Kit Kat, Mr. Goodbar, Red Hots, Sugar Babies, Twizzlers, Sweetarts, Mike & Ike, Payday, Big Hunk Bars, Bit-O-Honey
We trekked our way through glorious scenery that year. The Teton mountains witnessed our love grow as we explored their many trails. We held hands walking through fields of wildflowers as spring bloomed. That summer we ran along Jenny Lake and finally took the plunge into her pristine but cold glacier-fed water. Autumn brought changing colors below tree-line and beautiful evenings spent under star lit skies.
I remember the day sludge colored clouds rolled in. We realized quickly, they were precursors to an approaching storm. Setting up camp early that afternoon, the sun disappeared quickly. Clouds turned obsidian-like black and rain lashed our small tent. Daylight disappeared and never returned that day. Even in those cold and frightening moments, I felt warm and safe lying beside you. I would have learnt to love black days like bright ones, if only we’d had more time.
Written for Monday Prosery at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Prosery Mondays are the only time we write flash fiction rather than poertry at dVerse. It is a genre created by dVerse that unites poetry and fiction: a given line from a poem must be included word for word within a piece of fiction that is 144 words or less in length, sans title.
Today Kim asks us to include the line “I would have learnt to love black days like bright ones” from the poem Dark August by Derek Walcott in our 144 word piece of flash fiction.
Rooftops cold, lifeless. No sharing. No caring. Dead metaphorically.
Values depleted. Hopper’s view of the future, stark warning. Resist.
Jarring emptiness. Where were you when it happened? Democracy failed.
Today Sanaa hosts OLN at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. We can either post a poem of our choosing OR post a poem related to the image above.
Time moves incessantly ambles as we stroll rolls as we revel cascades in times of joy turning, flowing, always forward.
Time separates, even while moving forward. Distance added to time. Friends diverge to their own paths amble, roll, cascade. But true friendship transcends time.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Lisa is tending the pub today, as we return from our two-week summer hiatus to celebrate dVerse’s 14th anniversary! She asks us to include the word “turn” in our quadrille: a poem of exactly 144 words, sans title.
My poem today is dedicated to dear college friends, Brian and Cher. I’ve included a few photos from our friendship over the years….the last one is just this past Friday night. Brian and Cher spent 5 wonderful days with us….reminiscing, laughing, sight-seeing, and playing cards at the same card table we sat at with them 55 years ago! Can you guess which photo is from our college days? And which one is from 1974, when our daughter Abbey was born?
When I think of aging visions of nature appear poetically, ready to be written across the page. But my hand tremor sets script askew, not unlike a preschooler’s first attempt at printing their name.
Nature’s brightly pink ruffled peony once perkily perched, quite the showy thing, gleamed amongst garden’s greenery. Now droops beneath residue of last night’s thunderstorm, struggling to hold its bloom.
Newborn gangly foal tries to gain its footing. Youthfully romps through riotously colored fields, bluebells and golden columbine waving in the sun. Years later, put to pasture, stands swaying slightly, head down, eyes clouded, wildflowers a dull blur.
And I myself, mark changes in my body. Steps slowing down, sometimes falter. Veins protruding on my hands. I reflect more and more on what was, and what is, and what is to come.
Perennials dance in spring’s fresh air, stand proudly through their season. Then wilting, lie down to disintegrate. But their stock is strong, their lilt not forever gone. Perennials bloom again and again and again, one generation gifting its beauty to the next.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Will be submitting for possible publication in the dVerse Anniversary Anthology.
lillian the home poet 