d’Verse Poetics: Water, Water Everywhere
–
Skipping Pebble
If I could be a pebble
I would skip myself across a
glassy lake – creating ripples
that grow larger, spread
farther until
they wash my love onto
the shore of your heart
A place for poems and pics
d’Verse Poetics: Water, Water Everywhere
–
Skipping Pebble
If I could be a pebble
I would skip myself across a
glassy lake – creating ripples
that grow larger, spread
farther until
they wash my love onto
the shore of your heart
Day 9 of Poetic Asides PAD – write a love or anti-love poem (or both)
–
Early Bird & Me – a Villanelle
He loves to rise before the sun
While moon and stars are still at play
My night of dreaming not yet done
He, wide awake, his day begun
My eyes are closed – please go away
He loves to rise before the sun
He thinks that I am not much fun
Because in bed I tend to stay
While moon and stars are still at play
He doesn’t know, I sometimes run
Through starlight, under moonbeams lay
He loves to rise before the sun
When moon is tired, stars twinkling done
My moon’s a shining yellow drum
He loves to rise before the sun
Before birdsong is even sung
And I dream on in my own way
He loves to rise before the sun
While moon and stars are still at play
Quadrille #77 – Ace of Poems
De (whimsygizmo) is testing us over at the Pub
–
Aced It
This poem is a rhyming ace
Has won first place
In a poeming race
A great big smile upon its face
A sassy curtsy performed with grace
It’s no longer commonplace
Claimed a spot in cyberspace
For you – in case
You require an embrace
Day 8 of Poetic Asides PAD – write a lucky number poem
–
7 or maybe 3
I always thought my lucky
Number should be 7
It is, after all, the date of
My birth – what could be luckier
But I have begun to reconsider 7
All straight lines with an elbow
That pokes out rather rudely
I feel drawn to 3 – softly curved
With numerical love handles
Its name a whisper that reminds
Me of ‘thee’, and I begin to count
The ways
d’Verse Poets Pub – Quadrille – Troll
——
A Trolling Poem
This poem has gone fishing –
trolling for words to give to you.
Tender words,
gentle words
that will make you smile.
Shy words,
humble words
that will make you care.
Words like a warm hug.
Words that will make you
fall in love

The Friday form challenge over at Poetic Asides is –
Strambotto Poems
“Some of these forms are older than others, and the strambotto traces back to the 13th century. This Italian form known as ottava siciliana (Sicilian octave) or strambotto popolare was the preferred form in Southern Italy, while strambotto toscano was more popular in Tuscany [hat tip to Edward Hirsch’s A Poet’s Glossary]. Today strambotto toscano is known as ottava rima.”
The basic rules for strambotto:
Octave (8-line) poems or stanzas
Hendecasyllabic (or 11-syllable) lines
Rhyme scheme: abababab
Alternate version: There’s also a six-line variant form (still called strambotto) with hendecasyllabic lines and an ababab rhyme scheme.
Here is my attempt (and a picture of that crocus)
—
And I Smiled
I found a yellow crocus blooming today
amid the detritus of a season gone.
Its slender green and white leaves finding a way
through fallen leaves and bits of bark. It was drawn
by Spring’s silent signals and the Sun’s warm rays.
Tightly curled buds, the color of a new fawn,
unfurl to show off in golden, flouncy play
as a milder wind makes them dance in my lawn
A Daily Challenge
How did I become trash-challenged?
My kitchen garbage can questions me
every time I open its lid.
I can hear it whisper, “Is that recyclable?”
I search the packaging of pasta, and spinach,
and eggs for the magic numbered triangle,
because I no longer have the ability to
determine what to throw in the garbage
and what to recycle.
How did I become trash-challenged?
d’Verse Poets Pub – Poetics: Mardi Gras Mambo
–
Rolled Over by the Good Times
This poem is flat on its back
Decked out in beads
Passed by and forgotten
Its party days are over
No words left to dance through
These vacant lines on blank paper
It will now march to the beat
Of a different meter – slow down
Become reflective, introspective
Make each syllable accountable
Tread hand-in-hand with its muse
On soft iambic feet
Quadrille #75: Spike up a Poem
—
Waiting for the Equinox
This poem is ready to do that Spring thing
shed some layers, put away the sled.
It’s feeling a spike in gratitude – change
of attitude as that old sun creeps closer,
shines shinier, starts to warm the bones
of this winter weary poem
D’Verse Poets – Poetry Forms – The Pantoum
–
In Early March
*
because it started slowly
it fooled us into disbelief
once again the forecast wrong
winter’s surely in retreat
it fooled us into disbelief
fine, feathery flakes seemed harmless
winter’s surely in retreat
no need watch or worry now
fine, feathery flakes seemed harmless
we put away our shovels, gloves
no need to watch and worry now
and in the morning we’re snowed in
we put away our shovels, gloves
once again the forecast wrong
and in the morning we’re snowed in
because it started slowly