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Listen To Me

B&Ps Shadorma & Beyond at MLMM asks us to write an ABC poem this week

Although I may look
Bewildered or possibly a little
Crazed, maybe a touch
Delusional just because I
Eschew large parties
Form unspoken words
Glare into the sun on cloudy days
Hold onto dreams with both hands
In case they try to fly
Just to feel their warmth
Kindly refrain from judging a
Life you are not living, instead still your
Modulated tone and voice don’t continue
Nattering away
Or speaking just to hear yourself
Please listen to my unformed words
Quiet though they might be they will
Reveal the truest me the
Silliest me the
Tender me the
Urgent beating of my heart and
Vagaries of my rhyme and rhythm these
Words that float upon my sea in
Xebecs made with wooden hulls
Yearning for your ear to hold them
Zealously they whisper love

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Master Builder

Octain Refrain; Meeting the Bar
at d’Verse ¬†Poets, Victoria has given us another form to challenge our little gray cells

I watched a robin build a nest
high in the branches of that tree
where it was safe, no one could see

It didn’t ask what I’d suggest
or seem to care that I was there
although I’m sure I was a pest

I sat as still as I could be
And watched a robin build a nest

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photo by Daniem Derouene


you think I don’t see you
watching my every move
ready to cry foul at

the slightest beat of my heart
but I can read your soul
in the flash of your eyes

I’m not the one who
doesn’t play fair


Mag 309

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color coordinated


I tried to color coordinate
this poem with the weather
I wrote pale pink sunrise words
I wrote white cloudy words
that blew across the page
and sunny yellow words
that sparkled like gems
when the sun hid I wrote
gray rainy words that fell
in puddles at my feet
I wrote red sky at night
words until black
covered the page
I tried to color coordinate
this poem with the weather
but it’s Spring
and nature couldn’t decide
which color to wear today

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humble hope

Poetics: Poetry Is For The Birds
d’Verse Poets
the congregation sits in silence
humble prayers take flight as
wisps of smoke
bouquets of daffodils adorned
with skeins of ribbon
the only light amid the
tidings of unkindness
there is no ostentatious orator

with brooding words of deceit
only murmurations of hope
for peace