Winter Blues

Claude Monet, Floating Ice at Bennecourt

Winter Blues

This landscape sings the blues, tones
absorbed, scattered
in meadows of frost flowers–

but in the staunch fragility of ice, shattered
fragments form prisms
for unexpected rainbows arcs
that sparkle

diamond-sharp,
like the features of the Winter Queen,
beauty without heart, frozen and deadly.

A quadrille for dVerse. The link is still open, if you want to join in the poetry fun. The prompt word is ice.

Once Upon a Time

Edvard Munch, The Storm

Once Upon a Time

Shadows crept,
then grew bolder
dreams were born,
then grew older,

blood boiled,
passion ebbed
now spiders dangle
from silvered webs

in dusty corners
where mice skitter
through this-and-that—
history’s litter.

Those were the days,
they once said,
the toasts of ghosts,
our dead.

A quadrille for dVerse. The prompt word is bold.

Another Poem about Vultures

Another Poem About Vultures

and how they sky-dance
carrying light on their wings
to banish grey clouds, drawing brilliant-blue
curtains for their cotillion.

I wonder if they dream,
and what their dreams would be—
and if they’d want to know
how their ballet dazzles,
lifts heart-joy in me.

A quadrille for dVerse using the prompt word “wing.” A couple times last week, I watched vultures flying above me, and weirdly perhaps, it really did brighten my mood.

I’m finishing a project, but I will catch up on posts and comments later today!

Vultures

The Ruins

The Ruins

Leaves of red and yellow fall
wrapping the ruins in rubies and gold.

Once bells tolled, clanging rings,
singing the years and hours–
joy-peals for weddings, clamoring-bongs
when wars were done.

Silence drifts ghost-like in this place
yet, listen–
bells, knelling, an echoing trace.

A seasonal quadrille for dVerse. The prompt word is bell.

September Rain

Heron at dawn. Delaware River at Red Bank Battlefield.

September Rain

Early morning is heron-still,
the grey wing-brushed sky waits
for feathered clouds to part,

or sprinkle diamond drops
around sunflowers’ throats,
who smile and tilt their heads,

offer tiny mirrors to bees,
to see a world worked in threads reflected blue,
invisible to us.

A quadrille for dVerse. We’re getting much-needed rain today.

My favorite time of day

Dreamy sky, morning moon

My favorite time of day–

coffee-scented kitchen,
breakfast-fed cat licks his paws,

no human voices,
only star-songs’ glittering traces,
and moon-hums.

She dream-drifts
on cotton candy clouds–
gives a crescent grin,
and I grin back,
the dawn a bright-feathered promise—

crows wake with clatter-clamoring caws,
just so, they say.

A quadrille for dVerse.

We Sing

Frants Diderik Bøe, “Birds in the Midnight Sun,” [Public domain]

We Sing

Who can count the stars in the sky,
or every type of bird that flies,
struts, or swims
on rivers blue-jay-bright, or soars
the night on vast raven wings?
Can you count all these things—
pinprick lights, feathered strings
connected songs, they, we sing.

A quadrille for yesterday’s dVerse prompt—the word was type. I will be back later to host today’s Tuesday Poetics on dVerse!

A Gift

Sunrise

A Gift

Dawn arrives on golden peacock wings,
I want to hold the moment—all such magic–

not in gilded cages,
but wrapped in a downy blanket,
like a baby held against my breast,

to cherish the weight
of heavy-lidded dreams–

of stars’ light
everywhere, here.

A quadrille for dVerse using the prompt word, wrap. I half-wrote this poem in the middle of the night, but then, there was this beautiful sunrise this morning.

Carpe Diem

Odilon Redon, Dante and Beatrice

Carpe Diem

How is the sky blue
when the world is grey-shrouded,

where sunflowers drip with blood,
and parades are strewn-confetti-terror?

Today, the sun and clouds are a lemon meringue pie.
Celebrate with me. Make memories of bird-dawns and moon-songs,
wine-kisses and laughter. We’ll ignore tomorrow.

A poem for dVerse. I’m hosting Quadrille Monday. The prompt word is celebrate, as we’re celebrating the 11th anniversary of dVerse this week.