Fifty years . . .
we’ve had the privilege of growing old together.
May there be many more.
Love
Solace
Like a peregrine
caught in a tailspin,
hard pressed
to find calm within.
To escape the din,
to rest,
seeks his lover’s inn.
Ah sweet nest of skin,
sweet breast.
Form of poem is a Lai: nine-line stanza with syllabic and rhyme requirements as follows:
line 1: 5 syllables, rhyme word a
line 2: 5 syllables, rhymes with a
line 3: 2 syllables, rhyme word b
line 4: 5 syllables, rhymes with a
line 5: 5 syllables, rhymes with a
line 6: 2 syllables, rhymes with b
line 7: 5 syllabkes, rhymes with a
line 8: 5 syllables, rhymes with a
line 9: 2 syllablesm rhymes with b
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets.
Photo from pixabay.com
Moon Dipping
Soaking in a creek,
she lingered in the cool moonlight
basking in luminescent shadows.
Clothes on rocks beside her
she imagined star glitter upon her brow,
pretended the soft breeze was her lover
and succumbed to the night.
f
Written for Misky’s Twiglet # 89: “soaking in a creek”
A twiglet is a word or short phrase meant to motivate.
Garden’s Delight
He waited in the garden.
Their daily early tryst,
always morning glory.
Impatiens,
burning desire
bursting his bachelor buttons.
Dainty yellow lady slippers
softened her step
coming closer, closer still.
Beautiful bosom
draped in ivy,
touched by morning dew.
Primrose to many,
but he knew better.
Those swinging rosehips,
passion flower in disguise.
Written for Misky’s twiglet # 88, “ivy draped.” There are seven flowers mentioned in this poem, in addition to ivy. Can you find the all? A twiglet is a short phrase or word that is aimed to prompt.
After Many Anniversaries
I have no need for mirrors
or overly affective words.
Aging is reality.
I need not be reminded
of it stealing time
elasticity and
dew-fresh skin.
But you, my love,
wrap me as if in gold,
caress my heart.
You hold my hand
and walk with me,
as if we are young love
now as then.
Wrapping up our dVerse 7th anniversary week, Frank asks us to write a septet. It can be a single 7-line stanza or a poem with two or more 7-line stanzas. Image is one of my favorite Gustav Klimt works, The Kiss (from Wikipedia Commons).
Midnight Lovers
Lips pressed to lips
hips to hips divinely so,
curtains flung wide.
Clouds pressed to moon,
beams flicker upon their bed.
Passion illuminated,
bodies melding move
like strobe light scene.
Muddled love,
pressed thru paroxysm
finally splays itself.
Breathing deeply,
hands clasped,
they sleep.
It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. De is hosting and asks us to include the word “muddle” in our quadrille (poem of exactly 44 words, sans title). From the kitchen.com “Many warm weather cocktails us fresh ingredients such as herbs and fruit, and often muddling is reuired. To muddle means to press the ingredients agains the side of the glass. Muddling helps to release the flavors of the fresh ingredients so they bind with the alcohol.”
For George
Travelers
in our speck of time.
Daily steps
in mnemonic state.
Treks by car
and plane
and train
to wander
in some different space.
The longest path
shadows behind us.
Still we seek the sun
match our steps
slower stride
hand clasping hand.
Lessons learned
span cities large
cities small.
One constant
across them all.
You have always been
my home.
With Apologies to Pablo Neruda
Tus Manos (Part I) Your Image (Part I)
Cuando tus manos salen, Your image curls within my being,
armor, hacia las mias, love, unyielding tenant,
que me traen volando? will you test my volition?
Por que se detuvieron Why is there denial
en mi boca, de pronto, as if my time is unhurried,
por que las reconozco why is this revealing
como si entonces, antes, how essential you are to me,
las hubriero tocado, like a harbor to the sails,
como si antes de ser how is this so hard
hubieran recorrido harboring releasing
mi frente mi centura? my feelings, my confession?
This was the most difficult prompt I’ve ever responded to! Day 4 of NaPoWriMo: choose a poem in another language; do not look at the translation. Also choose a photograph (this is a photo of Pablo Picasso’s Meditation). Now, “translate” the foreign language poem into a poem applicable to your photo. Use the “look and the feel” of the words in the original poem but do not look up a translation of the words. I have no idea what Neruda’s original poem says…….so as the title of my post says, “With Apologies to Pablo Neruda”. His words are on the left; mine are on the right. Also posting for dVerse Open Link Night.
Quadrille Passion
Murmur me
sweet poetic words.
Play softly
fingertip arpeggios.
Mirror my passion.
Bounce you to me to you,
rhythmic cadence
tonal harmony.
Blood moon
burns ebony sky.
Come lie with me
in lunar lust.
Staccato.
Allegro.
Crescendo.
Nighttime symphonic love.
Created for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where it’s Quadrille Monday (poem of exactly 44 words, sans title). Kim hosts, asking us to include the word “egg.” I’ve included “egg” within a word: arpeggios. Past prompts for this quadrille series have included burn, murmur, poet, and bounce: all are included here. We may always use a form of the word . Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us! Postscript: I think this may not include all the words afterall….as in I think there may be others in this Quadrille series and I may even have listed some wrong ones. I claim Bermudaful scenery outside my window as an excuse….but the poem stands as is 🙂
Tryst
Flambéed love letters
braised the heat,
slow burned me.
Tonight,
succulent strawberries
dipped in champagne,
our effervescent midnight feast.
Windows flung wide,
erotic shadows cast
by flirtatious moon
swoon ‘cross silken sheets.
Your form undulates
‘neath gossamer negligee,
my heart plunges deep.
D’amour delirium.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today Victoria is our host, asking us to use the word “burn” or a form of the word, in a quadrille (poem of exactly 44 words, sans title). For a second and more humorous take on the word, go to my second post, Summer Treat.
