Waking
In winter, buried bulbs slumber,
as do hive-huddled bees,
bears, bats,
turtles, and tiny snails
with scaled-down snores
in sealed-up shells.
Sleepy creatures dream
cradled in caves, burrowed
between rocks—
salamanders snow-frozen
defrost in sun shimmer—
now horses graze, gambol
in spring’s greened light.
A quadrille for dVerse, a bit lighter than my musings this morning. The prompt word is slumber.
Entwined Melodies
The light touches the water in a shining kiss
blissful recognition, old lovers imprinted
by star-songs, feathered flights rippling through space,
traces, transfigured by eons’ ways
as our dust, reborn in drops of dancing silver rain
fall and sustain soil, sea, whale, and wren.
A quadrille for dVerse. The prompt-word is “touch.” This is perhaps more toddaid-like, than strictly a toddaid, since a quadrille has to be exactly 44-words.
Sometimes Genius Just Is
Did he see or imagine
haloed stars, circled with
angel nimbuses, and blue-waved
sky-oceans where they floated.
Palette-sweeping vivid yellow in thick layers
across scores of canvases, sunflowers, striking
exclamations of brilliant suns;
wheat-fields alive with rustling stalks—
the crows, the crows, the crows.
A quadrille for dVerse, a poem of 44 words. The prompt word was “imagine.” I know an ekphrastic poem based on van Gogh’s work might be all too commonplace, but that’s where I went. There have been many articles written about Vincent van Gogh’s vision with speculation that he may have had glaucoma, epilepsy, suffered from lead poisoning, and/or many other conditions or illnesses.
Unexplainable
Waif with matted hair,
dirty jeans, tattered shirt.
I’m lost, she cries—holds out her grubby hand,
bowed head arises—
undisguised, her black lagoon eyes
without a trace of light inside–
you’re capsized, drowning–
faster than thought,
a lightning bolt of fear—
Run! Run!
Sorry for the third post today! I try not to do that, but sometimes it just happens. 😉 This is a quadrille for dVerse. The prompt word is lagoon. It’s not a word I would normally use, so I decided to have some fun with it. There’s an episode of the podcast Ghosts in the Burbs that discussed “black eyed kids.” It’s urban legend or “creepypasta,” but if you see them, I suggest you run!
Late November by the River
Feather-clouds
sketched across the blue,
the sleepy sun settles tousled hair
on a pillow, her tea getting cold–
light enough for skeletal branches’
long-limbed shadows to linger like bell-tolls
across the leaf-crackle of scuttling squirrels.
As gulls laugh and dive,
laugh and dive. Rise.
For dVerse, a quadrille using the prompt word “sketch.” I will be back later this afternoon with a yet-to-be-written poem for my own dVerse prompt.
Dream-maker
Her crooked smile
or surprised-O, silver-apple muse-face
light-tased, lunar-phased dazzle-traces–
and we can’t resist.
Now blood flows, tides go,
wolves howl, men prowl,
squelch the cliché, as poets growl.
Still, shadow-caught, and
satellite-entranced,
we dance beneath her silver streams,
run wild with moon-river dreams.
A poem for dVerse, a quadrille (exactly 44 words). The prompt word is moon. A poet friend shared Audrey Hepburn singing “Moon River” on Twitter-X a couple days ago. It was also one of the songs that showed-up on the wonderful soundtrack of the show Good Omens.
Just Before October Ends
The river is rose-pink
in October’s morning light,
the spotlight slides between tree branches
slant streams, honeyed gleams
casting long shadow-leaps
beyond the glow.
Now squirrels scamper from boughs
to fallen leaves, rustling and brown,
a small deer grazes, unfazed, caught in the light.
A quadrille for dVerse. The prompt word was fall.
The prompt made the song, “Falling Slowly” go through my head. The song is from Once, and I love the movie, soundtrack, and the show. We saw a lovely, intimate version at the Arden Theater in Philadelphia several years ago.
Erased
“I’m erasing myself from the narrative
Let future historians wonder how Eliza
Reacted when you broke her heart
You have torn it all apart
I am watching it
Burn”
—from, “Burn,” Lin-Manuel Miranda, Hamilton
Here is where time unfolded–
what I thought was a straight line
became something new,
the stars have shifted, the quadrant
cannot navigate this space
where you’ve written her letters
and she slept in my place.
Now I burn every trace. Love, us, erased.
A quadrille for dVerse, where the prompt word is fold.
Just Before Sunrise
Venus, goddess of love,
twinkles in a sapphire sea—
dawn’s still a breath away,
her vermillion lips touch the horizon
kissing the day good morning,
and the moon farewell.
I wave at the moon,
a sliver of silver, a Cheshire Cat smile
lingering, gone.
A quadrille for dVerse. The prompt word is sliver.
Yearning
Every night, she pines for pines.
In dream-forests, where blue horses race,
she traces his face beneath sparkling vines–
every night. She pines for pines
and light as time streaming through space.
Every night, she pines for pines–
in dream-forests where blue horses race.
For the dVerse quadrille prompt. The prompt word is pine. This is an almost-triolet. I left out a line, and I don’t want to rework it now. With some variation of line syllables, I made it fit the 44 words for the quadrille prompt.
Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings 