Posted in poetry

A Woeful World

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.

Posted in poetry

Secrets

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

Posted in d'Verse Poets Pub, Poetic Bloomings, poetry

Timeless Shockwaves

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.)

Posted in poetry

Camera This

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

Posted in d'Verse Poets Pub, poetry, quadrille

Bummer

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.

Posted in d'Verse Poets Pub, poetry, quadrille

The Golden Hour

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.

Posted in d'Verse Poets Pub, poetry

The Old Cat

d’Verse Poets Pub – Poetics: Make some room
http://dversepoets.com

The Old Cat

The old cat has no room he calls his own,
he claims a spot til it’s no longer new.
He wanders round this space seeking a throne,

a sunny nook to warm his weary bones –
a padded window seat will surely do
The old cat has no room he calls his own.

Somedays a mournful yeowl he does intone,
when favorite blankets have been left askew.
He wanders round this space seeking a throne,

preferring quietness, to be alone
to ponder catching flies and mice and shrews.
The old cat has no room he calls his own –

he owns it all, each board and stepping stone.
His humble servants also know it’s true.
He wanders round this space seeking a throne,

a cardboard box that he can get into
and fall asleep, curled up and unbeknown.
The old cat has no room he calls his own,
he wanders round the space seeking a throne.