Under Covers

~ Candace ~ 11 Comments

d’Verse Poets Pub – Poetics: Kafka for Kids –

“I do not see the world at all; I invent it.” from The Diaries of Franz Kafka, 1910-1923

Under Covers

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I do not see the world at all
Behind my eyes so tightly closed
But I can feel a summer breeze
And smell the perfume of a rose

I hear the lovely symphony
Of birds and cows and bugs and such
The sloppy kisses of my dog
Tell me he loves me very much

Here in the darkness of my room
Beneath the covers where I sit
The world becomes what I may choose
When I imagine and invent it

Carolina Parakeet

~ Candace ~ 4 Comments

d’Verse Poets Pub – Quadrille #88: And the Word Is… extinct

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Carolina Parakeets

*

There once were parakeets

here in this un-tropical

Northeastern clime

Small green birds with cheery

red and yellow faces

Friendly, social bids that brightened

the landscape – until they were gone,

completely disappeared, became extinct

I wonder if the mocking bird still repeats

their call

Change of Plans

~ Candace ~ 8 Comments

d’Verse Poets Pub – Quadrille #87: Quick! Nick us a poem!

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Change of Plans

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This poem has its nickers in a twist –

Is in a bit of a snit.

Someone has nicked the

words it wanted to wear today –

fancy words, high-heeled party words.

All that’s left are some everyday,

comfy words like

tea, books, you

Lenny

~ Candace ~ 14 Comments

dVerse Poetics: On All Things Feline!

The cats are taking over at d’Verse Poets Pub

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Lenny – (a Lannet)

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We buried him beneath the garden bench

where I would take my morning cup of tea

to share the highlights of my yesterday.

I often thought I heard his rumbling purr,

–

although I knew it’s just my wishful heart

imagining that he was still around,

still chasing after bugs, both real and not.

Still crawling under sheets when I make beds,

–

still hiding deep within a paper bag

then jumping out to grab me as I pass.

He followed me around just like a pup –

a nosey, noisy, sleek white, furry friend.

–

Quiet unexpectedly we found him gone

and buried him beneath the garden bench.

A Scattering of Seeds

~ Candace ~ 10 Comments

d’Verse Poets Pub : Quadrille -…and the most beautiful words are . . .

Thanks to Lillian for sharing the 70 most beautiful words in the English language – according to a survey conducted by the British Council.

Today’s challenge is to write a Quadrille (just 44 words) using the word tranquility.

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She scattered seeds and hoped for sunflowers

that would provide for birds and bumble bees.

She nurtured those small seedlings like a mother,

danced under her umbrella when it rained, and

giggled at the sight of a rainbow.

She scatted grace and found tranquility

The Last Cousin

~ Candace ~ 16 Comments

d’Verse Poets Pub – Prosery #3: Love After Love

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I’m Kim from Writing in North Norfolk, welcoming dVerse poets to the third ever Prosery prompt, when we ask you to write a very short piece of prose that tells a story, with a beginning, a middle and an end, in any genre of your choice.

As it’s flash fiction, we have a limit of 144 words; an additional challenge is to hit 144 exactly. The special thing about Prosery is that we give you a complete line from a poem, which must be included somewhere in your story, within the 144-word limit.

For the third Prosery, I’d like you to write a story that includes the following line from ‘Love After Love’, a poem by Derek Walcott:

‘You will love again the stranger who was your self’.

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The Last Cousin

I carefully pack a dozen jars of homemade grape jam into a cardboard box. Each jar is wrapped in newspaper to keep them from banging together on the three-hour drive to Lake Erie. The buns and a tub of peanut butter are already in the back of my Jeep.

It’s the annual ‘Cousinfest” weekend. I’m the only one left of five. I plan to hold a remembrance ceremony on the beach. I’ll stay up all night eating PB&J sandwiches, that had been our tradition since we were teenagers. In the morning, I’ll scatter the ashes of cousin Number Four in the rose garden of the beach house.

I don’t know how I’ll carry on without those girls who were closer to me than sisters.

I hold tight to the last words of Number Four, “You will love again the stranger who was your self”.

Just for Now

~ Candace ~ 5 Comments

Poetic Bloomings – PROMPT #254 – SECOND WIND

d’Verse Poets Pub – Poetics : Purifying the Mind

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Just for Now

I will become a spectator

For a while

I will look at art

Smell some roses

Read some poems

And when I get my second wind

Perhaps I will be the

Painter, gardener, poet

Once again

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The Date

~ Candace ~ 7 Comments

d’Verse Poets Pub – Prosery #2 – Sarah has challenged us to write some flash fiction of no more than 144 words using this quote from Alice Oswald’s poem “Full Moon” — “I dreamt I was the moon.”

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The Date

He turned off the flashlight and we were left in total darkness. The only sound was water lapping against the side of our small flat-bottom boat. Every now and then, a drop of water from the roof of the cave landed on my head.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a little cave kiss,” he said.

I began to wonder why I agreed to this trip. I didn’t like caves, boats ,or darkness. I did love this man who loved spelunking so, I closed my eyes and I dreamt I was the moon.

Bird Song

~ Candace ~ 9 Comments

d’Verse Poets Pub – Meet Jackie Hurlbert

– photo by Jackie Hurlbert-

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Bird Song

When evening tip-toes in

To calm the industry of day

When light begins to dim and wind

Becomes a gentle breath

These are the moments birds whisper

Songs to me, filling my dreams

With the hope of their voices

Early in the Morning

~ Candace ~ 5 Comments

dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics: On Wandering & Observing
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Early in the Morning

 
She likes to go for a wander
in the morning – before the sun
heats up the day too much.
She strolls along the fitness trail –

passed easily by joggers and
serious walkers – most listening
to something other than the bird calls.
If she is lucky, she gets to watch a

Great Blue Heron fishing among the reeds
that line the shallow end of a small lake,
or laugh at the Little Blue Herons and Swallows
swoop and dive across the water – as if

playing a game of avian tag.
She often stops to sit quietly, whenever she
comes to a bench, looking for a pair of turtles
that sun themselves on an old log – grateful that

someone thought to provide a perfect
spot to just observe. And that is when she
begins feeling a little sorry for the runners
and fitness walkers who miss out on

the benefits of a good wander.