d’Verse Poets Pub – Quadrille #114 – Poetical Magnetism
Star Envy
I think the moon has a
mag(ic)net that it
throws across the
inky sky. I find myself
drawn outside, looking up,
hoping for a glimpse of
glow, sliver of shine
from this untouchable
lodestone. I envy the stars that
bask In its magnetic nimbus.
d’Verse Poets Pub – Quadrille #113: Blanket Us
A Woeful World
If I could, I would cover this
World with a warm blanket
to ward off coldness that
has settled around it, to smother
flames of hate that burn and scorch.
I would wrap it around quivering
shoulders, to comfort and
wipe away bitter tears.
d’Verse Poets Pub – Quadrille #111 – What’s That Rustling in the Eaves?
Kim has us doing a little ‘eavesdropping’ in the Pub
Secrets
The sound of rain dropping
From the eaves takes me back
To a wet summer night
To a wooden cabin and girls,
Giggling from their bunks,
As they eavesdrop on
Their counselor kissing a boy
Behind the building where
No one would ever know
Timeless Shockwaves – a Tri-Fall
two black holes collided
combining
into one, sending waves
that have not subsided
aligning
energy to each other gave
and seven billion years
across space
the hum of this union is real
ripples like souvenirs
a slight trace
to touch this world, wonders reveal
just like black holes our hearts
converging
together become a single beat
not one, but counterparts
emerging
humming with synergy and heat
(I read a news article about two black holes that merged over seven billion years ago. The shockwaves just reached Earth last year. I was determined to use these black holes in a poem.)
d’Verse Poets Pub – Meet the bar: verbing
—
Camera This
I need to camera these moments
Save them somewhere in my memory
I need to camera these moments
Album them in my heart to keep them from
Negativing into ghosts of themselves
I need to camera these moments
Lens them into focus until I can’t forget
Quadrille #110: Shall we bum around a bit?
Bummer
This poem is feeling rather bummed out.
Tired of just bumming around, all alone,
unable to even bum a ride with a friend
It’s turning into some kind of fashion bum,
In gummy waist pants and baggy shirts,
sitting around on its round bum.
dry and cracking earth
the farmer prays for relief
dust bath for sparrows
breeze in the Maple
creating tender music
leaves rustle softly
d’Verse Poets Pub – Rain
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hidden beneath leaves
sparrows perch on tree branches
rainy afternoon
d’Verse Poets Pub – Quadrille #105: Cry Havoc and Let ‘SLIP’ the Dogs of War
http://dversepoets.com
The Golden Hour
It happens just before the sun slips
out of sight, behind the pine covered
hills. Those few moments when the
whole of my world is painted gold,
as if King Midas touched his finger
to the trees and houses
and they shimmer in delight.
