if star dust is available
to those who seek a glimmer of hope
if lunar paths lead to satin slippered elves
ready to grant a wish
if buttercups picked yield petal tea
when imbibed bloom happiness
if imagination can quell fear
set pen to page with gut wrenched honesty
if simplicity can softly pad its way
through a cacophony of bombastic lunacy
I wonder
how to reach Neverland
Shared with dVerse where it’s OLN time. Open Link Night – no prompt. A time to share a poem of your choosing.
She remembers hot spots,
hands thrown up in disgust.
Exploded resentment
spewed words laced in spittle.
She walks this Icelandic landscape alone
breathing sulfuric stench.
Eyes sting, nostrils flare.
She feels and sees and hears
the earth stew, bubble,
seethe and steam.
Flumes sputter, gain strength,
spray vitriolic anger.
Shielding her eyes,
she searches for some shade of green,
some sign of hope
beyond this godforsaken land.
If she stands still
she understands now,
she will be consumed.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Our host is Kim and she’s talking about “flexing your verbs” in a poem about a landscape. Photos were taken outside Reykjavik, Iceland on our recent trip. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come imbibe some verbs with us!
We drove for miles ‘cross lush countryside, the majestic Kaimai Range in the background. Rolling hills in myriad shades of green were everywhere, always dotted in white. There are more sheep in New Zealand than people.
We finally reached the sprawling Alexander family farm, centerpiece of J.R.R. Tolkein’s Middle Earth. Setting out on foot to stroll the Shire, we were enthralled by the massive pine known as the Party Tree, the scene for Bilbo’s eleventy-oneth birthday. We walked along paths that led to vegetable, herb, and flower gardens – each different in shape, texture and color – next to thirty-seven colorful Hobbit Holes. Delightful miniature sheltered smials. Underground homes built into the hills, with roofs covered in grass and clover, and windows so low we had to crouch as if to take a peek. A clothesline was strung with miniature work shirts. A small wheelbarrow leaned up against a tree stub. We were giants walking through a magical world.
lily of the valley
miniature belled flower tops
tabby cat traipsing through
Written for Haibun Monday at dVerse where Toni is hosting today, giving us free rein in terms of a topic. Haibun: prose (not fiction) followed by a haiku (must have a nature theme). Photos from our wonderful trip to New Zealand. We visited the 1,250 acre Alexander family sheep farm outside Auckland, NZ, home of the mythical Hobbiton. The rolling topography, huge trees and lakes were deemed the perfect spot for 17th century Middle Earth immortalized in J.R.R. Tolkein’s The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.
A winter tale of gusting winds
the might-have-beens
his tale of woe
forsaken beau
She left him ‘neath the midnight moon
collapsed in swoon
his feet like stone
his heart didst moan
Her kiss did curse his soul that night
his monstrous plight
’tis blood he needs
on necks he feeds
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today Frank asks us to write a Minute Poem. Another poetic sudoku! Entire poem contains three 4-line stanzas and a total of 60 syllables. Each stanza must have 20 syllables and a syllabic structure/ rhyme scheme arranged in this manner:
Stanza One: line 1 = 8 syllables, end rhyme word A; line 2= 4 syllables, A again; line 3 = 4 syllables, end rhyme word B; line 4 = 4 syllables, B again.
Stanza Two: identical to above EXCEPT rhyme scheme is CCDD.
Stanza Three: identical to above EXCEPT rhyme scheme is EEFF.
And to throw in one more constraint for good “measure” — it should be in iambic meter
which is short, long accent; short long accent; etc.
And of course, the challenge is to have the sense of the poem outshine the form!
Outside, an evening still-life
city sounds gone.
Color wheel spun to day’s end,
the stuff of coloratura
no more.
Within the darkness,
a multiplicity of light.
Tree leaves
individual by day
morphed imperceptible,
indistinct within their larger shape.
Lunar glow, specks of bright,
office window flickers,
shadows in grays.
Not black or white.
No monochrome this.
Softened lines and curves.
Milky illumination
blending into hazy ebony.
Outside my window,
a continuum of grace.
My urban amen
as I slip into sleep.
We’re Looking Out/Looking In at dVerse today. I’m hosting Tuesday’s Poetics and asking everyone to consider the windows in their apartment/home. They can either look in or look out; look at the view or the window itself. And then write a poem that somehow deals with that window, metaphorically or in reality (poetic license allowed, of course!). Each writer is to do two things: 1) post the photo of their window or view from their window; and 2) write a poem motivated by that photo, using the word “window” in either the title or text of the poem. And by the way, dVerse just celebrated their 6th anniversary yesterday!! dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, opens at 3 PM Boston time today. Come on over and post your “view” and/or just take a peek with us! All are welcome!
Graveyard journey.
Ghosts whisper, dance,
twist, shimmer.
Breeze skips through leaves.
Clouds balloon, curl, drizzle,
storm bubbles open.
Lightning sparks, sounds echo.
Dawn spills, melts rose-red.
Peppered blood-shadows
scar green spring grass.
Nervous giggle jars grin,
breath flickers.
Cue still lull,
death lurks near.
[INCLUDES ALL THE WORDS THUS FAR]
Grace hosts Quadrille Monday today at dVerse, And it is the 6th anniversary of dVerse! Quadrille Mondays are held every other week. 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 #36 and the prompt word is “flicker.” Past words this series have included pepper, dance, 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!
Introduction first: this poem is written by my 10 year old granddaughter, Stella Hallberg. She and I share monthly prompts. For May, I sent her the word “percolate.” There are no edits here and no one helped her. This is what she wrote.
Love
Like a moonbeam
Starting just as dark
Both percolate into light
Both something more than life
Bright
Beautiful
Precious
A gem in a sea of rocks
A light in an ocean of shadows
When the cacophony of news blares deafening dreadful,
‘tis time to still one’s feet, one’s hands, one’s mind.
Seek the beautiful, but for a moment.
Listen to stillness and you will hear the quiet.
Contemplate the beside you ~
the chair upon which you sit
the cold-hot water you may choose to drink, to draw
the texture of cloth which warms your skin
the view through glass panes that alternates,
day to night to day again
the love you carry within your heart,
from those who have held your hands.
Inhale. Exhale. Breathe.
Then slowly rise and move deliberately,
into the good.
It’s Tuesday and that means Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Paul is hosting and tells us about a book, Anam Cara, by Irish poet/philosopher John O’Donahue, which includes a number of “Blessings” poems. Paul asks us to write a blessing, adding “and may our words create ripples in the pond of the world.” Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come soar with us! Photo taken a number of years ago on our Baltic cruise.
It was the first summer after we bought our Iowa farm house. City transplants, we planted a huge garden. Tomatos, sweet corn, carrots, beets, cucumbers, radishes, green and yellow beans, peas, zucchini, squash and pumpkin, all kinds of peppers, and oak leaf and ruby red lettuce. I planned to can and freeze vegetables. Enjoy our harvest through the winter.
On this particular hot and humid day, I was seven months pregnant and exhausted, but very proud of my first attempt at canning stewed tomatoes. I’d picked and washed the tomatoes. Dipped them in boiling water to loosen the skins. Chopped them with celery and peppers. Cooked the mixture and poured them into sterilized glass jars. And finally processed them in the pressure canner. Deliciously, gloriously red, the mixture was now displayed in mason jars, standing tall on my cupboard.
And then I heard our German Shepherd barking — a lot. I took two steps into the back yard and stopped dead in my tracks. The smell was unbelievable. Skunk. And all those beautiful stewed tomatoes, gone in a flash. Rubbed into the coat of Toby. At least he had the grace to lick his chops.
nature thunders rain
magnolia blooms fall to ground
magnificence gone
It’s Haibun Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today Grace asks us to write a haibun related to summer. This summer memory is from many many years ago. Haibun: prose (cannot be fiction) followed by a haiku (should be related to nature). Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come on over and join the fun! Photo in public domain – from Pixabay.
Sweet darling, accompany me I pray.
Our hearts and souls aligned, yet still we spar.
I promise to lead thee nowhere astray.
Your eyes whisper words, seem softly to say
whither we goest? And the door’s left ajar.
Sweet darling, accompany me I pray.
As the moonlight glistens, gifts our soiree,
I shall protect thee as a fragile star.
I promise to lead thee nowhere astray.
Your scent my dear, an enticing bouquet
beguiles my mind, my loins, I lust too far.
Sweet darling, accompany me I pray.
To kiss, to hold. How this resolve doth sway,
struggles to recall who and what we are.
I promise to lead thee, nowhere astray.
Do think of me as in Romeo’s day,
’tis painful unrequited love to bar.
Sweet darling, accompany me I pray.
I promise to lead thee nowhere astray.
It’s Thursday at dVerse and Frank asks us to write a Villanell, a 19 line poem: 5 tercets followed by 1 quatrain. Within the first tercet, the key lines are 1 and 3. They’re repeated in a prescribed order. Also, the rhyme scheme is quite strict: only an “a” (IE pray, astray, say, soiree etc) and “b” (IE spar, ajar, star, far, etc). So it should look like this:
1a, 2b, 3a (numbers = lines; a and b = rhyme scheme)
4a, 5b, 1a (line 1 repeated)
6a, 7b, 3a (line 3 repeated)
8a, 9b, 1a (line 1 repeated)
10a, 11b, 3a (line 3 repeated)
and finally the quatrain:
12a, 13b, 1a again, 3a again
It’s a poetic sudoku!! Frank does indicate that we do not have to follow iambic pentameter — thank goodness! 🙂 The challenge is to have some kind of meaningful flow and sense to the piece. Needless to say, I find this extremely difficult….but at dVerse, I’m always willing to give it a shot 🙂
Pub opens at 3 PM. Stop by and see what others have done with this unique form!
lillian the home poet 