The Stars and Me

Victoria has us repeating ourselves over at d’Verse Poets Pub
I’ll Say It Again (and Again and Again)


The Stars and Me

I thought I saw the stars wink at me
As if they knew my secret
I thought I heard the stars whisper
As if they might be gossiping
I thought I felt the stars hopping
As if they could share my joy
I thought I whiffed the scent of stardust
As if the stars were blooming
And so I turned my face up
To the sky and blew the stars
A kiss

The Weaver

D’Vers Poets
Poetics : Artisans

Kim is our host for this challenge –

“The challenge is to write a poem about an artisan or wright, for example a weaver, thatcher, wheelwright or carpenter, or any other craftsman you can think of. It can be a real person, you or someone you know, or a fictional person. All I ask is that you emulate the form and/or style of one of the Heaney poems.”
~
The Weaver
She was a weaver known by all
She’d weave for you a throw, a shawl

The wealthy of the town would pay
Three shillings just so they could say

They wore the finest ever made
By the widow living in the glade

She wove some magic in each one
A spell of peace for everyone

I sat each night upon her knee
As warp and weft she taught to me

But when she died her spell died too
And peace remained for just a few

It was to me the burden fell
To learn to weave, the chaos quell

Now to my God each night I’ve prayed
For mercy, I had disobeyed

Slept when sitting at the loom
And her sweet peace I did foredoom

Winter’s Grip

D’Verse Poets Pub – Quadrille #24 -whisper
De of WhimsyGizmo has challenged us to ‘whisper’ out a Quadrille this week

~
Winter’s Grip
it came in wisp(er)-like
sat in the corner
leaned back, crossed
it’s legs, as if to stay awhile
I covered it with a knitted
afghan but it crept out
from under, crawled
along the floor
gripped my ankles
until Spring knocked on
the door

The Supplicant

In the Imaginary Garden it’s –
Fireblossom Friday : escape to the past
Of the pictures we could choose from for inspiration, this is the one that spoke to me
~

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They taught me to bow my head
To repeat a penitent’s prayer
Lower my eyes
And quiet my voice
Say no thank you
Yes please
Be seen
Not heard
But no one thought
To teach me
How to live
Without
You

Hibernation

d’Verse Poets Pub – Quadrille#23 – curl
Borjn is manning the pub and he has us ‘curled’ around the first Quadrille of 2017

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~
Hibernation

Leave me curled, furled
Beneath this quilt
Of many pieces
Peace increases
Breathing slows
Toes wiggle
Do not disturb
Perturb
whispered
From my lips
Fingertips hug a
Mug of warm chai
And I sigh
Leave me curled, furled
Beneath this soft thing
Until spring