Warrior, intrepid spirit
woman of heartfelt substance.
For two years
you wore a mantle of prayers,
held fast to hope and faith.
Rest now, dear friend,
your spirit on angel’s wings.
For surely your downright obstinacy
in the face of overwhelming odds
has earned you the right to soar.
My friend, Louise, lost her two year battle with ovarian cancer Sunday night. She fought so hard to live. She will be missed by so many.
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.”
I am your global child.
Barefoot puddle splasher
hand outstretched, ghostly smile,
sunken-eyed innocence.
I live in your cities.
Under bridges, in alleyways
on your streets.
Blessed are those . . .
which those?
See me. Hear me.
Offer me
a morsel of hope.
Quadrille (44 words, not including title) for dVerse where Kim asks us to use the word or a form of the word “ghost.” DVerse, (the virtual pub for poets) opens with today’s prompt at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
All they needed
was a gardener’s catalogue.
They should have known.
Tumpet vine,
also known as trumpet creeper.
Common colors, orange and orange red.
Some consider the plant invasive.
Drops hundreds of seeds
sending up suckers.
Keeping size under control
with aggressive pruning
is often necessary.
If allowed to grow,
can easily take over.
Extremely difficult to get rid of.
Containment
is a
consideration.
Prevent the plant
from reseeding
in other areas of the landscape.
Tumpet vine
can work its way
under shingles
and
cause damage
to foundations.
They should have known.
Stanzas 2 through 9 are quoted from two on-line garden sources. Shared with dVerse OLN, the virtual pub for poets where it’s open link time – share a poem of your choice today – no prompt. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come imbibe some words or pour your own!
First grader. Never mulled
no twists, just straight up.
Shaken on the playground,
meets bully spirits with bravado.
Some day, she’ll pass the bar.
And she’ll be the one.
We’ll toast her as she takes the oath.
Hail to the Chief.
Posted for dVerse Tuesday Poetics where De asks us to “mix it up a bit” by using terms having to do with the bar / pub scene, drinking terms. IE in Predilection’s case: mulled, twist, straight up, shaken (not stirred), spirits, bar, and toast. The trick is, the poem cannot be about the drinking scene! A fun prompt. Hail to the Chief is the music played at the inauguration after the presidential oath is taken, and thereafter when the President of the United States is introduced. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. Stop on over and imbibe some words!
Surrounding reality melts as I seek the comfort of sleep. In that half-aura, lying with eyes closed, weight of quilt on chest, I work to release tense shoulders, facial muscles. Within my mind’s eye, weightless arms rise, outstretched. I float above my body, cares released, and soar into the night.
heron, tense, alert
dives hungry into dark sea
soars with silver fish
Björn hosts haibun Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Photo credit: Bird Sirin by artist Sergey Solomko. We’re asked today to find artwork that does not illustrate our haibun, rather compliments its meaning. Haibun: short prose, not fiction, followed by haiku. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time.
My Namrah, fantastical beast,
is always waiting near.
When fear accompanies darkness,
I know he will be here.
He flies me to the shining stars,
appears within my dreams.
Lifts me up on widespread wings
and soars through sequined streams.
Frank is our guest host at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, and asks us to write a poem in common meter. This is one of the most difficult types of poetry for me to master. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time.
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.
We are immersed.
Polar night
darkness unseamed.
Evil dawns as sun does not.
Erodes hope,
essence of democracy.
Revels in abysmal decrees
hurled again and again,
narcissistic plague.
Scepter spews clues
to personality disorder,
alternative reality.
We know however,
the midnight sun
shall rise.
Quadrille (poem consisting of exactly 44 words – not including title) posted for dVerse, virtual pub for poets. Today Björn asks us to use the word “dawn.” Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us! Photo from 2015 Alaska cruise.
unfurl hope
march, sing
stand resolute and tall.
Answer the call
to freedom this world,
compassion for all.
A second verbification poem for http://dversepoets.com dVerse today. Using nouns as verbs — sunshine and freedom. Saturday, January 21, 2017. First day of a global movement that has the potential for immense power. Photos from Boston’s Women’ Walk for America which included 100,000+ women, men and children. dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Come join us!
lillian the home poet 