Paint Me
Paint me into a corner, and then
Paint your beating heart upon my lonely heart
Paint long-stemmed roses on my nose and
Paint love songs on my empty ears
Paint wet kisses onto my parched lips
Cover me in paint until I am no longer blank
Category: d’Verse Poets Pub
Spinning Seasons
Spinning Seasons
Like a Merry-go-Round ride this old
blue planet spins round and round –
tilting now and then just to add a
touch of seasoning, a smidge of reasoning
far enough away from the flame
of that burning star that we feel its spicy heat
On a Gloomy Spring Day
On a Gloomy Spring Day
It was a gray day –
gray sky, gray dreams.
Rolling fog came pushing
it’s way across the ground
masquerading as a goblin,
and I looked for a safe
place, a hidey hole.
Hope hung limply,
like a worn out chemise,
until a small trumpeter
with a black cap chirped
notes of promise into the air.
Bragging Rights
Bragging Rights
This poem’s been dragged and bagged
and now it’s lagging behind – trying to
flag down some scallawag staggering
by, wagging an extra word or two
that it needs to snag if it’s ever
going to be able to brag about itself
properly, on paper
Dee brings out the silly in me
Tethered
d’Verse Poets Pub – Poetics: March Wind Ekphrastic
I used the painting by John Sloan, Sun and Wind on the Roof
Tethered
I wish for wings to take me
sailing over these rooftops
Wings that flap like the shirts and
sheets on this line, struggling for release
into an unknown world
Yet, like the sheets, I am tethered to
this place – not with ropes and pegs,
but with invisible threads that
bind my heart to yours
A Salty Tear
A Salty Tear
Like a clown, this poem paints
on a happy face and goes serenely
about its day cooking, cleaning, caring.
All the while there is a small salty
tear waiting at the corner of its eye –
waiting to be released when
no one can see.
Dancing in the Dark
Dancing in the Dark
My friend, the moon, is hanging about
In the dark waiting for me to come outside
and dance with him. The wind is whistling a
waltz, so I kick off my shoes gliding across the
grass, as dew drops nibble kisses on my toes.
The Howling Moon
The Howling Moon
Clear winter night, no clouds,
perfect for watching the full moon rise.
It’s called the Wolf Moon.
I can see my breath, suspended in air, and
wonder about that name. Do you think
this cold winter moon howls for the many
who shiver tonight?
—
A Brighter Day
A Brighter Day
Same Carols, same twinkling lights
Same Santa ringing a bell
Year by year the people notice
less and less, taking it for granted
Until a small girl in a red hat
walked down the city street. When
she smiled, she tinseled the whole day
The Rescue
d’Verse Poets Pub – Quadrille # 137: Throwing Poem Stones
Duck! De Jackson has us throwing stones at each other.
The Rescue
I rescued a katydid from the pool this morning,
laying it gently on the deck, hoping it will dry
out, crawl away. Rain is in the forecast,
so I move it to a stone under a broad leaf.
I hope it’s a lucky stone.
Quadrille # 137: Throwing Poem Stones
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