Some days I want to . . .

. . . put on roller skates and
careen down the esplanade
along the Charles River.
Grinning, looking straight ahead.
Faster, faster, and faster still.
Wind blowing back my hair,
tearing my eyes
until the real world blurs
and I am flying
with wheels as my wings.

Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the vitual pub for poets around the globe. I’m hosting today, asking folks to use the word “careen” within their poem of exactly 44 words, sans title.

The esplanade is a wonderful green space in Boston that in part, runs along the Charles River. It has a very long walking/bicycling/rollerskating path along the river itself and is only about 2 city blocks from where we live. It goes for miles and we often take walks there. For those of you who watch the Boston Pops 4th of July concert on television, the hatch where they perform is on the esplanade itself, just off the river. Photo from Pixabay.com

Film Noir, Take 38

Graveyard journey.
Ghosts whisper, dance,
twist, shimmer.
Breeze skips through leaves.
Clouds balloon, curl,
storm drizzles, bubbles open.
Lightning sparks, sounds echo.

Dawn spills, melts rose-red.
Peppered blood-shadows
scar green spring grass.
Fearful giggle jars grin,
breath flickers.
Cue still lull.
Dream sequence fades.

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[INCLUDES ALL THE WORDS THUS FAR]
A second quadrille (see below for explanation) Missing You also posted today, uses only today’s prompt word “dream.”  Hope you’ll click on the title and read it also!

De hosts Quadrille Monday today at dVerse,  Quadrille: a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. Each time a word prompt is given: week #1 = Quadrille #1 and 1 word; Week #2 = Quadrille #2 and a new word; etc.  We build to Quadrille # 44 in week 44 with still another word. We’re on Week #38  and the prompt word is “dream.”  Past words this series have included fear, flicker, pepperdance, bubble, grin, lull, melt, shimmer, twist, skip, green, breeze, spill, rose, journey, jar, leaves, open, shadow, cloud, spark, cue, breath, scar, curl, whisper, dawn, ghost, giggle, drizzle, still, echo, sound, storm, spring, and balloon. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time.  Come join us!

Her World

Head cleared of cotton candy
and spider webs,
she begins to write
backwards and up-to-down.

Fairy tales
beginning at happily ever after,
famous quotations
from future generations.

Temporary lodger on Rainbow Lane,
dreamer extraordinaire.
Fuscia and chartreuse stripes
appear on sidewalks and gutter spouts.

Her wings, still nubs,
keep her anchored to earth,
impatiently waiting
for thirty-three o’clock.

Then, and only then,
will she dust herself in stars
summon her steadfast unicorn
and ride to the century’s morrow.

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