d’Verse Poets Pub – Quadrille #126 – Come “bother” up a poem
Why Bother
This poem didn’t bother to get
dressed – just stayed in its pjs all day
not bothered by the flapping
of its slippers or the flopping of its
hair-do, hoping no one will bother it
until it doesn’t have to bother
masking its feelings
https://dversepoets.com/2021/04/19/quadrille-126-come-bother-up-a-poem/
d’Verse Poets Pub – Quadrille: swift
Little Birds
The naturalists call them Swifts –
because they are
And the blue jays are blue
Black capped chickadees wear
close fitting black caps
Little birds with names to help
us recognize them
What shall I call the lonely bird
That perches in my heart?
d’Verse Poets Pub – Poetics: Beyond Meaning or The Resolution of Opposites
haiku
within its branches
the ancient gnarled apple tree
harbors fresh new life
–
from Paul Dunbar’s The Paradox: I am the bud and the blossom, I am the late-falling leaf
d’Verse Poets Pub -Going…Going…Gone Poeming {Quadrille #122}
Lost In Cyberspace Perhaps
where have they all gone, those shots of
flowers and bugs, trips, happy children? I went
to look for them and they had disappeared, snuck
away, without telling me they were going. Have they,
perhaps, found other lost pictures to share my memories with?
—
I recently lost the photos stored on my computer. Luckily, most of them are
floating in some cloud. 😁
d’Verse Poets Pub – Poetics: True Colours?
Mish wants to know what the colors say
—
Call Me Gray
You think you can ignore me because
I’m gray
But I am many shades and tints,
like clouds
I am the background of your colorful life
Without
me blues would not be as vibrant, yellows would have no
purpose,
and the color wheel would be nothing but
a blur
—
A new poetic form from me
“This week, a Poetic Asides member shared a poetic form she created. While I don’t usually share nonce forms, I’ve tried this one myself, and I think it’s a lot of fun. So without further ado, I’m introducing Candace Kubinec’s form, the Waltmarie (which is itself a nod to PA members and Poetic Bloomings hosts, Marie Elena Good and Walter J. Wojtanik).” Robert Lee Brewer on Poetic Asides, 2/12/21
Waltmarie Poetic Form-
10 line poem, any subject, even numbered lines are 2 syllables and form their own poem when read separately. Odd lines are longer with no specific syllable count.
Waltmarie Poetic Form-
10 line poem, any subject, even numbered lines are 2 syllables and form their own poem when read separately. Odd lines are longer with no specific syllable count.
Have you seen the cat
It may have been the stomping kids that scared her –
hiding
Or the loud bang of a breaking balloon –
small bits
That sent her running for a place of quiet –
of peace
Waiting until all children are asleep with dreams of play –
to share
Before she cautiously climbs out from behind the couch to sit –
with you
—
d’Verse Poets Pub -MTB: endings / beginnings
Only a Dream
She dreamed of leading a big marching band,
With a shiny baton twirling in her small hands
She didn’t want drums or a horn she could toot,
instead she asked Santa for majorette boots
The white leather ones with bright tassels of red.
They’re the pair she envisioned at night, in her bed.
So she went to bed early, this good little girl,
Pulled her blanket way up so it covered her curls.
She kept her eyes closed when wind started to blow,
the rooftops and bushes soon were covered with snow.
The best winter night for dear Santa to bring
the boots that she wanted more than anything
But her letter to Santa must have lacked clear instruction.
The boots under the tree were a felt reproduction.
d’Verse Poets Pub – Quadrille #118: In the Inglenook
Waiting for Santa
She fell asleep beside the slowly dying embers
and dreamt of warmer climes, sunny skies.
She only meant to rest a while, hidden in the shadow
of the inglenook, until the clocked chimed midnight
when Santa would return home to grant her Christmas wish.
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.)
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.
