Her mother was a stoner, flowerchild of the sixties. Braless, barefoot, oblivious. She copulated in a purple haze.
Love child born in a stream, drifted from womb to surface floated in sun’s glistened path. Named according to her origins.
Forever asked, why Mica Shist?
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today, De would like us to use the word “stone” or a form of the word, in our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. When I saw the word stone, immediately thought of rocks, then different types of rocks as in metamorphic, granite, and mica schist. Mica schist is a metamorphic rock that includes the mineral schist. When on the surface, schist gives a sparkle to the rock. Some say mica is nature’s glitter. So I decided to have a little fun with the prompt! Image from Pixabay.com
Standoffish elitist mother newsstand famous dad outstanding intellectual brother. She never fit in. Headstands, handstands, she tumbled through life. But the joke’s on them. She wandered into a club, took the mic and found her voice. Highest paid standup comic, guess who’s laughing now?
A bit late, but written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe…responding to Monday’s Quadrille prompt. Use the word “stand” or a form of the word, in a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. I decided to see how many words I could use that include the word “stand” in them! Had fun with this one. Photo from pixabay.com
Waltz with me, take my hand. Hear the gulls call to us fly o’er us, soar for us dance for us on the sand.
Oceanside, hand in hand me touching, you wishing souls in tune, now kissing three-stepping, lusting fanned.
You’re so strong, hold my hand dance with me, past the sun dance with me, past the clouds through the stars, never land.
Oh my dear, damn this waltz. Pen down now, poem be done. Quick-step me, quick-step me! Now . . . now . . . now . . . never to cease. Now. . . Now. . NOW! Ahhhhhhh . . . release.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Late to Thursday’s post – Bjorn hosts and asks us to consider the waltz in poetic form. For example, the waltz is usually danced in 3-beat measures: 1 – 2 – 3, 1-2-3. I’ve tried to have three beats throughout, so for example, the first line is “waltz (1) with (2) me (3), take (1) my (2) hand (3)”. Tricky. I’ve given it a go and ended up with a waltz on the beach that turns quite bawdy! FYI: the quick-step is another ballroom dance, quite opposite in pacing and attitude than the waltz or tango for example. Image from Pixabay.com
She always yelled at him before her grand entrance. “Harry, crank up that wind machine!” Then she’d wind up those hips get the feathers quiverin’ and strut out on stage, fans strategically placed. She wanted to entrance the blokes, not wound their swoonin’ heart.
Sally Rand, born Helen Gould Beck, was an American burlesque dancer most noted for her ostrich fan dances and her balloon bubble dances. She was mot active from 1925 to 1979.
Known for dabbling in couture, Dora decorated herself like you would your house, mimicking holiday seasons. They thought her daft and could only laugh as she walked down the street in a Christmas wreath, at their annual Easter parade. Her reward? Most Unusual Bonnet.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. It’s Quadrille Monday and De asks us to use the word “dabble” in our quadrille: a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. I went for humor today — figure we can all use a little chuckle in these upsetting, challenging and unusual times.
He sat straight-backed, alert, surrounded by canes, walkers tv guides, checkerboard games and the people that accompany them in a place like this.
Hands folded, he waited patiently for the last strands of that age-old song. Some high pitched warblers sang off pitch, hunched over the tinny piano pulled out for occasions like this.
Balloons hovered above his head as candles dripped life-time moments onto pastel fondant flowers. He spied the festive paper plates, too thin for the thick slab he desired.
And so I asked the centenarian, what is the secret of your longevity? Well sonny, I always say, close your eyes to dream. Just make sure you open them wide to watch where you step.
Written for Open Link Night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Bjorn will host as we go live today from 3 to 5 PM Boston time. Those who post a poem will have the opportunity to read it aloud, if they choose to do so. Come share the fun, connect names with faces and hear the voices of many dVersers!
She lives life sunny-side up, happily choosing to ignore everyday eggasperations. Definitely not a cook. Her souffle pan, Calphalon pots and ten-speed blender? Simply signs of her optimistic soul. Gymnast by profession, she tumbles her way through the three-ringed circus everyone else calls life.
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. I’m tending the pub tonight, asking everyone to indulge in a happiness project! Poems must be exactly 44 words in length, sans title, and the body of the poem must include the word happiness. A form of the word, for example happy, happiest, or happily is acceptable. A synonym such as bliss does not meet the requirements of the prompt. I thought I’d have a bit of fun with mine. Photo from Pixabay.com
THE DREAM CATCHER Her dreams flew by on gossamer wings, too high to reach some days, even on tiptoes.
THE ELDERLY MRS HOLIDAY Waste not want not. She’d heard that all her life lived by it too – Christmas wreath upon her head ready for the Easter parade.
THE SENATOR With perfect pitch, opera singer by avocation and meteorologist by training, he became a successful politician. Elected term after term, he simply changed his tune depending on how the winds blew.
THE LIBRARIAN She collected books. Being of short stature she carried a stack wherever she went, booster seats not always available.