Rise up this morn, ingenue divine. Sing joy unto the skies for youth, for energy and love. Live now to dance in flower laden fields. Soon enough petals shall shrivel upon their stalks, energy depleted. But love, if tended well, will never desert you.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today, Monday, August 22nd is Quadrille Monday. Linda asks us to write a quadrille (poem of exactly 44 words, sans title) including the word “morning” or a form of the word. If you look carefully in the first line of Ode to Love, morning is there, albeit broken in to two words.
Apologies to dVersers!I am on a cruise until September 2nd and have very little access to the internet…and when I do, it is intermittant. Therefore I am unable to read your posts to dVerse prompts. Do not feel the necessity to read or post comments on my poems during this time since I can rarely reciprocate.
PS: Poem before this one on my blog, includes photos from our first cruise to the Norwegian Fjords. We are on back-to-back cruises and have just begun the second leg, our Best of Scandinavia cruise.
With walking sticks in hand golden agers cross the field all in the golden afternoon. The aged aged man smiles, his love beside him today and all these many years.
Beach house waits patiently weathered bench outside. They stop and look and sigh, then reach slowly to touch initials carved so deep that day, when first they fell in love.
They sit, tremored hand in calloused one, gaze across the lake. Vision blurred beyond optician’s help, still they recognize shapes afar. A boat beneath the sunny sky prods his memory back in time,
remembering . . . . . . remembering . . . he pats her hand and smiles.
Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Sanaa asks us to consider a Candy Crush Saga! One option we have for our poems is to choose three titles of Lewis Carroll’s poems from a long list she gives us. We do not have to include the titles in our poem, but our poem should be inspired by them and we should give credit to his titles. I was most familiar with Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland so this was interesting to see some of the many poems he’s also written! Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
The Lewis Carroll titles I included word for word within my poem are All in the Golden Afternoon, The Aged Aged Man, and A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky.
Gardenia laden breeze flutters lace curtains. Nightgown clad, right silk strap slips. Gentle hands reach slowly rest lightly on shoulders, wait patiently. She sits alert, but melting. His hazel-flecked eyes ask. No words. Just asking eyes. She smiles shyly, nods, and quietly murmurs yes.
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Bjorn asks us to include the word “eye” or a form of the word, within our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
In the night of day Luna lights the path over oceans deep. Vast sea of glistening caps ever gleaming, beckoning me. Your visage when last we met, only that has kept me safely undone by storms and cloudy skies.
There is no fear, no dread, nothing vague. No questioning of time. Row on, row on, this cursed ship. My dreams, my thoughts aswirl, I shall reach you, my everlasting joy.
An Acrostic Plus, written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.
I’m hosting and ask folks to either write a poem related to something that puzzles them, use the word “puzzle” in their poem . . . or extra points for writing an Acrostic Plus, a form I created: Read down the first letters in the lines of the first stanza and see what they spell; then read down the last letters of the lines in the second stanza and see what they spell. You should then have a message related to the poem!
Play me that jukebox, baby, you know the buttons to push. Hit Marvin, cuz we know you want to get it on with me. I know, you can’t stop loving me. Push the Ray button, honey. Hold me real close. Maybe I’ll be tempted.
dVerse is back after our two week summer hiatus! Written for dVerse’s Quadrille prompt which must use the word “juke” or a form of the word, within a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe, opens at 3 PM Boston time! Come join us! PS: I remember going on high school dates to get a burger and cherry coke, and plugging quarters in the jukebox, picking out our favorite songs.
Waltz with me, take my hand. Hear the gulls call to us fly o’er us, soar for us dance for us on the sand.
Oceanside, hand in hand me touching, you wishing souls in tune, now kissing three-stepping, lusting fanned.
You’re so strong, hold my hand dance with me, past the sun dance with me, past the clouds through the stars, never land.
Oh my dear, damn this waltz. Pen down now, poem be done. Quick-step me, quick-step me! Now . . . now . . . now . . . never to cease. Now. . . Now. . NOW! Ahhhhhhh . . . release.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Late to Thursday’s post – Bjorn hosts and asks us to consider the waltz in poetic form. For example, the waltz is usually danced in 3-beat measures: 1 – 2 – 3, 1-2-3. I’ve tried to have three beats throughout, so for example, the first line is “waltz (1) with (2) me (3), take (1) my (2) hand (3)”. Tricky. I’ve given it a go and ended up with a waltz on the beach that turns quite bawdy! FYI: the quick-step is another ballroom dance, quite opposite in pacing and attitude than the waltz or tango for example. Image from Pixabay.com
Night sky’s scrim beams on us. Heads tipped, eyes heavenward, cold crisp air embraces. Hope gleams bright, if we believe.
Heads tipped, eyes heavenward, stars shine, diminish doubt. Hope gleams bright, if we believe, this truth shall live through pain.
Stars shine, diminish doubt hearts must open willingly. This truth shall live through pain, our love shall bloom again.
Hearts must open willingly, words must tumble free. Our love shall bloom again, night sky’s scrim beams on us.
Late to post to Peter’s prompt for Thursday’s Meet the Bar night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. He asks us to write a pantoum. Pantoum: comprised of 4 line stanzas the follow this pattern: 1,2,3,4; 2,5,4,6; 5,7,6,8; 7,9,8,1 In other words: * the second stanza repeats the second and fourth lines of the first stanza, in its first and third line. * The third stanza repeats the second and fourth line of the second stanza, in its first and third line. * This pattern continues until the final stanza which repeats the second line of the stanza preceding it, as its first line; and the first line of the entire poem as its final line. Quite tricky to write in the pantoum form and still have sense to the poem, without the form “sticking out” to the reader’s sensibility!
Top of the hill. Treeless. Wildflowers blanket the meadow canopied by cloudless sky bluebird blue. She stands, shear linen skirt billowing arms outstretched, face tipped toward afternoon sun.
Long ago declared their place, they still meet here every year. This day. This anniversary of his death. She feels again his touch, so real within the mountain air. Yellow buttercups glad to see her, wave spritely in spring’s breeze.
Delicate petals succumb to wind, part from stem and float toward her. Adhere to tear streaked cheeks just as his kisses did that final day. Sandals tossed aside, dew moistened grass licks her toes and she smiles.
He is with her here. Their love was real, still is, and shall be forevermore.
Bjorn from Sweden is hosting OLN at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Tonight the pub is live – poets will gather via the miracle of technology, visit with one another and read their poetry aloud. It’s marvelous to connect names with faces and voices. Everyone reads in English and we usually have folks attend from Sweden, India, the UK, the US, Australia, and other places around the globe. Come join us! Image from Pixabay.com
Standing in front of the sea, she smiles with moon-kissed lips. I immerse myself, deeper and deeper still. Explore her nautilus curves. Ebb and flow within her wake, then lie still as darkness gives way to light and dawn awakens me.
I lie stilled on deserted beach. Low tide surrounds me, as if the ocean bared its soul. Oh rapturous sleep, I question thee. Was she real, this goddess of the night? Or was she but a siren escaped from far-off craggy coast? Tears flow from my eyes staring up at blushing sky.
Spent am I, splayed out on moist and rippled sand. And then my fingers feel . . . what? Something smooth and cool to touch. A nautilus. I stare at it in wonder. Then slowly, lowered to my lips, my mouth upon its curved edge I whisper hoarsely, I shall return tonight, my love. You are my destiny.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where it’s Tuesday poetics and we are asked to explore erotica in poetry. I like to think of this as romantic rather than erotic. Simply my choice of words. Photo taken last year in Provincetown during a full moon.