tulips dip and sway
seasonal ballet
scheming
upcoming soiree
daffodil foreplay
beaming
flower me I pray
utterly risque
gleaming
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today we’re asked to write a Lai: an old form of telling tales – a 9 line poem with an aabaabaab rhyme scheme where the a lines have 5 syllables and the b lines have 2 syllables. I give you a springtime tale of love! Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come on over and imbibe some words!
Gardeners sow seeds of hope,
and then their work begins.
They understand the maxim of love.
It is in the tending that beauty blooms.
Photo from the Village of Blarney gardens in Ireland.
We gaze, mesmerized.
Porous limestone,
misshaped craggy towers
wind and brine carved.
Seas rise and fall
pulsate with teeming life.
We embrace, knowing.
Stainless steel lies within,
raises stitchmarked skin.
Tethered by wires
your heart rises and falls,
life beneath the seam.
Photo from February, at Tobacco Bay in St George, Bermuda.
he of geology
she of high kick dreams.
Rocked
dance floors
canyon walls
little ones
and little one’s little ones.
Unfinished, aged patina,
we rock on.
Let’s make sweetables.
Shape red licorice twists into infinity.
Toss heart-candies onto a scrabble board,
ouija them into Always Mine, Valentine.
Ganache our love and sip bubblicious.
Let’s spoon the night away.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today I’m tending bar and asking everyone to “have a heart.”
He scent her,
over a cup of tea and slice of sole.
His moistened fingertips touched her lips,
lemon balmed her into paroxysms of love.
Twiglet #10: scent of lemon. Misky posts a twiglet every Tuesday: a short phrase, a word, to prompt a thought, a flow or a memory. Artist credit: Girl Holding Lemons by William-Adolph Bouguereau, 1899 -found in wiki art.
Simplicity is a roomy closet, an empty drawer,
stars overhead and terra firma souls.
Memories and dreams conjured
from maps, photo albums, paper and pen.
Long walks in whatever weather,
wherever place, your arms round me.
Thankful for everyday.
Tobacco Bay. Ten minute walk from our rental in St George’s, Bermuda.
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.
The earth moved, an aperture in time.
Tectonic plates shifted within her soul
left behind an open space,
a void within her life.
She stood above where he lie.
Moist grass licked her ankle bones,
feet planted firmly as she stared down,
eyes a spiral, boring deep and deeper still.
And when the summer storm came
she gently lowered herself,
a prostrate form upon the mound,
to protect him from the pelting rain.
She imagined his shape beneath hers,
tucked her arms close in beneath her chest.
Face resting upon the stone
she felt the granite, cool upon her cheek.
I love you always she whispered.
And lying still among the tombs
lying with him once again,
she felt his love within her heart.
Crimson, orange-yellow quilt overhead,
I gaze upward, savoring the soft breeze.
Iridescent patterns shimmer, shift, and spread
a kaleidoscope of fluttering leaves.
Our days together come drifting back,
blurring soft prisms of golden memories.
And I am content.
Written for dVerse where we’re asked today to employ rhyme within our poem.
lillian the home poet 