Brighten Up
This poems wants to add a PoP
of color to its black and white lines
Maybe slip a pair of red shoes on its feet
Tie a purple scarf around its stanza
or meter out some magenta syllables,
shining like bubbles, just for fun.
Category: d’Verse Poets Pub
The Quality of Dust
The Quality of Dust
The quality of dust is not measured in abundance,
but rather in the fineness of its particles.
True dust contains no lumps or identifiable
bits. It is silken to the touch and rises easily
on wisps of air. True dust settles silently
atop flat surfaces and collects in corners without
fanfare. It is a magical powder that appears
just before visitors arrive to keep us humble
and grounded. True dust is ever present,
waiting patiently in mid air, hovering over
our busy lives, until it finds stillness. It can not
be caught or trapped, or tricked into vanishing.
True dust is the constant in this human-made world.
In the Beginning
In the Beginning
Sounds had no order, no form
Each note played randomly,
like early morning birdsong
Chaos was the melody that filled the air
Harmony, just an illusion, a vanishing act
performed by strumming magicians
Instruments rang out in unrhythmic time
and there was no key to unlock the secret
Until someone began to bang the drum –
and music was born
–
Think No More of Me
Think No More of Me
Forgive me for seeming timid
Or shy, or quiet, or rude
Forgive me for appearing to be polite
Well mannered, courteous, but
I ask no forgiveness for my feelings
I hold them in my heart where
They are guarded from judgement
They are the music of my soul
They belong only to me
They’re the percussive blow of grief
The vibrato of pulsating joy
The solo of winter-like loneliness
The persistent tinkling of hope
And I share them only with you
Flies in Disguise
Flies in Disguise
They dress up like a bee
hovering, zooming
around each tiny flower of
the Lamb’s Ear in my garden.
They seem fierce in their quest
to chase others away.
Some would back away, keep
their distance, but I know
they are just wee flies
—
Zoom on over to d’Verse Poets Pub for some quadrille poems, if you dare
Shifting Vision
Shifting Vision
When he retires
he’ll shed his button down shirt,
shrug off his buttoned up life.
Stop chasing goals and start
chasing dreams, shift his vision.
He’ll rock out to his own tunes,
write the future in a song,
hug the life he always imagined.
Mish has us shifting around in the Pub today.
Sunset
Sunset
It will be dark soon. The winter Sun,
stretching its weaken rays toward Earth,
will fall once again into the sea.
She sits where the ocean meets the land,
her toes touching the wet sand,
silently waiting for the last gasp of the Sun.
Proud Secrets
Proud Secrets
The winter sun shines weakly through gray clouds
Black secrets hurried into my dream,
They only saw our souls so proud,
Twirled in the wave of an open hand.
Inspired by Emily Dickinson and Sara Teasdale
COMPOSED IN VERSE BY VERSE
I provided the first line, then chose from lines suggested by verse by verse. It was difficult to find lines that made some kind of sense when put together.
Soul Sounds
Soul Sounds
My soul thrilled to the music of birds
and buzzing bees that lived in the
backyard garden, but this landlocked
soul did not know true music until it
felt the rhythm of ocean moving in the
darkness and heard waves crashing on the beach
—
A Simple Gift
A Simple Gift
I looked for a love poem to
give to you, but none were
as tender as the gleam in your eyes
I listened for a love song to
give to you, but none were
as stirring as the sound of your voice
I searched for some bauble to
give to you, but none had magic
to touch your soul
So I stand here before you
and hold out my humble heart
—
It’s Valentine’s Day in the Pub
rhymeswithbug 