Palindrome Acrostic

Harrumph.
Abbracadabra . . .
Hurrah!


Palindrome: word that is the same, spelled forwards and backwards as in mom, wow, and hah! Also a four-way acrostic for dVerse.  An acrostic contains a hidden word within the poem, usually spelled out from top to bottom within the first letter of each line. In this short short poem, read first letters of each line from top to bottom, or from bottom to top; and read the last letters of each line from top to bottom, or from bottom to top, and you get the same word!  And the message/meaning is that sometimes, magically, a person’s personality can change😊

Ode to Texas

Helios banished
usurped by Thor.
Relentless temper rains
ruinous torrential tomorrows,
inundates the land.
Cloud-sieves drain seemingly forever.
Altruism birthed midst missing sun.
Notable acts of kindness shine,
emerge, kindled by catastrophe.

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Frank hosts dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets, asking us to write an Acrostic. An acrostic includes a word or phrase hidden within the first letter of each line. You find the word by reading vertically down the left side of the poem. Image in public domain at pixabay.com 

 

Inspired by a Visit to Matisse

Shadow lady,
from wherever-you-prefer
cash-only for hire,
she an artist’s muse.
Name-her-as-you-wish
pose her as you will.
Her rule, never touch,
sparks a masterful brush.

Face concealed,
enveloped in a penumbra of voile
anonymity always required.
Pastels, oil, charcoal, or clay
shades of black, white or grey.
Bright hues perhaps?
Your choice.
Clothing optional, save the veil.

Perched upon a chair,
garters hold stockings taut
bare breasts paint themselves.
Curses fall upon that masked face,
as she survives within the pale.

Fee collected, she hurries home.
Scarf thrown upon the chair
no mirrors with which to see
that face so hidden then,
now sipping cup of tea.

Years later,
accompanied by her spouse
she visits galleries,
genteel pastime of the upper class.

Smiling ever so slightly
she spies her former self,
framed in golden gilt
hanging upon the wall.

She, an artists’ muse,
their anonymous visage.
Paid a pittance then
worth a fortune now.

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Written for today’s Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. I’m delighted to be hosting so step right up to the bar. The prompt word for today is “shade.”  Use the word itself or any derivation of the word in the body of your poem. My poem today is inspired by a recent visit to Boston’s MFA to see the Matisse Studio exhibit. I was enamored with this painting, Seated Figure with Violet Stockings, oil on canvas, painted by Matisse in 1914. My imagination took a leap from the painting to this musing. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us in the shade!

Lysefjord

Echos of light reflect rugged beauty.
Silent walls of rock carved by glaciers,
mirror themselves in ancient seas.

We sail, necks craned,
staring, gaping in awe.

Awareness dawns
in setting sun.

We are but specks
on the scales of time.

       

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets where Monday’s quadrille (4o word poem, no more no less) prompt is to include the word echo within our poem. Photos from recent Norwegian Fjords cruise. 

Pickpocket

Like a feral cat slinking through shadows
the nondescript waif seeks his prey,
crosses to busy street, jostles crowds.
Nudge and dip. Nudge and dip.
The two-step pick-a-pocket waltz.

Wallet trashed, enters corner butcher shop
whistling a tricky tune.
Sustenance savored, emerges,
mustard rivulets on chin and wrist.
Sits on bench, licks fingers and smiles.

Yellow eyed languid cat prowls neath boy,
rubs against too short pant legs.
Drops half-eaten rodent on littered ground
curls inward atop boy’s left foot
and basks in sun.


Photos taken yesterday in Lisbon – older men in neighborhood; graffiti on city wall. Beautiful city! Lisbon, Portugal dates back to the 6th century. 

Solitude

My lineage lies in bleached bones,
ash commingled with soil and sea.

I am the living
happily paired,
wed forty-seven years
progressing still.

Mother of two
grandmother of five.
Eleven total
in raucous revelry.

This crowded world
my species’ millions
and millions more,
multiplied by the unknown.

In the midst of all,
I savor oneness.
Scraps of solitude
contemplative discovery,

and recovery.
Sips of silence
to be and to know
who and what is me.


Posted from Bermuda. We are in midst of TransAtlantic crossing and will not have access to Internet for five days. I shall post again from Lisbon.

Conundrum

My hands caress
use opposable thumbs.
Yours do that,
and also shoot guns.

I bask in the sun
nurture my young.
You do that,
and stockpile guns.

I sit in here
looking out at you.
You stand out there
looking in at me.

I see your face
your hands
your feet,
so like me.

So why am I the one
locked in here,
you out there
staring at me.

   

Photos taken at the San Diego Zoo. I can stand for hours looking at the gorillas – they mesmerize me. I’m hosting dVerse today, the virtual pub for poets, asking folks to anthropomorphize within today’s poem. Give an animal or object human characteristics such that it behaves like a human. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time — come on over and anthropomorphize with us! 

Whose Child?

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.

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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!