Contenders

Sometimes I think . . .
we are all but two legged steeds
ruled by stop watch and finish lines.
Some struggle to keep the pace.
Others never leave the race,
gates open and off they go
pasture be damned.
Some claim the roses
only to have them wither and die,
first place noted on fraying record book.
Has beens, almost and never weres.
Frenetic trotters round the track
until age ultimately claims its due.
Then woe the beast who suddenly sees.
Blinders stripped away
peripheral vision cleared,
too late the lesson learned:
there were others along the way.
I was simply galloping too fast
flying past, eyes ahead.
I should have known,
they were the ultimate prize.

Pantoum Sudoku

I sit to gather thoughts and write.
Like quickening ripples in windswept pool
ideas hurtle, thrash and roil in spite.
My mind consumed, your muse too cruel.

Like quickening ripples in windswept pool
your face appears in waves to take control.
My mind consumed. Your muse too cruel,
like fists that pummel a dying soul.

Your face appears in waves. To take control,
eyes wide, I gather strength. My voice attacks
like fists that pummel a dying soul.
You shall not rule as I defy all impacts.

Eyes wide, I gather strength. My voice attacks
ideas. Hurtle, thrash and roil in spite.
You shall not rule. As I defy all impacts,
I sit to gather thoughts and write.

Gina hosts MTB Thursday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today we are exploring a particular form of poetry called a pantoum. It’s made up of quatrains (4 line stanzas). BUT, they have to be in this pattern:

A (has to end rhyme with C)
B (has to end rhyme with D)
C
D

B (Exact same line as B in first stanza; and has to end rhyme with D)
E (has to end rhyme with F)
D (Exact same line as D in first stanza)
F

E (Exact same line as E in second stanza)
G (has to rhyme with H)
F (Exact same line as F in second stanza)
H

G (Exact same line as G in third stanza)
C (Exact same line as C in first stanza)
H (Exact same line as H in third stanza)
A (Exact same line as A in first stanza)

Hah! Did you follow that?  And now you know why I titlee this post Pantoum Sudoku!

Perchance to sleep . . .

Tis the star lit night my dear,
we lie entwined, our lips so near.
Our spirits joined in dreams to soar
until you break the spell to snore.

No soft sighs, you sputter snort.
I toss, I turn, till last resort
when love is lost in raucous sound
and need for sleep is so profound,

I trippingly flee our marriage bed
collapse undone, on couch instead.
And when the sky is lit with dawn
to your side, again I’m drawn.

Morning comes, you wake refreshed
our bodies once again enmeshed.
You’re ready to greet the day,
I’m ready to hit the hay.

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Image from Pixabay.com

You are my touchstone . . .

You were my honey mine,
sipping bubblicious.
Feeling passions quake
in hot and youthful ardor.

You proposed with golden band
rich in love, but not in funds.
Hearts expanded, two to four,
those we called our wonder years.

Till suddenly we caught our breath,
their childhood gone, somehow over.
Watch we did as they left home,
amazed were we, as two again.

Seasons passed and reappeared
our path ahead, much shorter now.
But kisses still doth kindle joy
for you and I, our love defined.

Love divine, a decoupage
years layered upon years.
Passion flows through comfort,
your skin next to mine
love within familiar folds.

IMG_7277

Sarah hosts Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. She is thinking about all the computer games that occupy so much time of some people. She asks us to choose three games from among those in a list she provides; and use those three names in our poem. I selected the games Honey Mine, Quake, and Overwatch – the latter split between two lines in stanza 3. Photo is taken at Pilgrims First Landing Park in Provincetown, MA. Most folks don’t know the pilgrims first landed in Provincetown but did not find it to their liking and went on to Plymouth. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time: come join us! 

Confessional

My heart slips,
falls.
Ice encrusted long ago,
disappointed.
Abandoned. Ignored.
Disgorged.

Shattered sound
ricochets.
Too late I understand.
I am the abandoner.
Aortic contractions
in northernmost veins.

Earth shudders
heaves
lets go,
as I have her.

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Anmol hosts Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today, she asks us to explore confessional poetry. In Confessional, whose voice is heard in the first stanza? The confessor appears in the second and third stanza. This is how I felt when we took our trip to Alaska several years ago. I witnessed and heard the calving that is occurring more and more as we ignore the plight of our earth. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!

Telltale Signs

Dandelion wisps
tangled in hair,
cooing to butterflies
fingers she flutters.
Turning she runs
ready for flight,
clambers on swing
wishing she might.

Higher she shouts
Daddy push higher!
Smiling, he does,
thankful for fairies.
Their magical gift
a changeling,
the child he adores.

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It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, and De asks us to use the word “change” (or a form of the word) within our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. Image from Pixabay.com. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!