Tired of Cloudy Days

Day 3 – Tired of ‘blank’

Tired of Cloudy Days

 

I’ve grown weary of tenebrous skies
Of days shrouded in clouds
I fear the fickle sun has abandoned me
For a place with a clear blue canvas on
Which to paint its brilliance
So I must learn to abide the shades of gray
That hang above like cobwebs
To find the love notes written there from
Cloudy skywriters to anyone who dares to look up

Before Sleep Claims Me

Day 2 – darkest hour

Before Sleep Claims Me

 
They come, unbidden
In the darkest hour before
Sleep claims my wandering mind
Kind words unspoken
Good deeds undone
Running rampant through
The crevices of my brain
Until the gentle lullaby of
Morpheus sends me to that
Land of dreams with a promise
That tomorrow I can begin anew

Spin Me Around

Day 1 – glorious

Spin Me Around

 
It was not a glorious day
Not even a lovely day
The sun never managed
To crawl out from under
Its heavy cloud cover
The Autumn leaves seemed
A little dull, a little weary,
Tired of change
But in this not so spectacular day
Laughter showed up to lighten
The mood, to spin things around
Until a not so glorious day became
Altogether enchanting

The Secret of a Heart

d’Verse Poets – MTB – Repetition
Jilly has us repeating ourselves over at the Pub

There was a heart
With a closed door
That I had never seen before

There was a sign
Upon that door
That I had never seen before

There was a word
The word adore
That I had never seen before

There was a lock
Upon the door
That I had never seen before

There was a key
To reach the core
That I had never seen before

There was a way –
True love secure
That I had never seen before

To just adore
That was the key
That I had never seen before

Now with that key
An open door
That I had never seen before

Confessions of a Night Owl

d’Verse Poets – Quadrille #67 – early
Kim is hosting our Quadrille Monday at the pub this week.


Confessions of a Night Owl

 

There is no early in this bird
No worms to catch
This bird like to snooze in
The early morning
Likes to roll over and catch
A few more winks
This bird hangs with the
Owls – hooting in the dark
Inside a book

The Lady

It’s Quadrille Monday! at d’Verse Poets
Lillian is tending bar today and our word is Harbor


The Lady

 
They left her standing, alone
Keeping watch over the harbor
A welcoming committee of one
In a green dress and sandals
She harbors ill-will toward none
Who pass her way – the lost, the tired
The searchers, adventurers –
Each looking for safe harbor

Clouds

d’Verse Poets Pub – MTB – School Days, School Days, Good Ole Golden Rule Days . . .
Lillian is sending us back to school to write an “alphabet sestet”


Clouds

 
everyone says clouds are soft and you can
float across the sky upon them as they
glide from here to there – but they are damp and
heavy with tears they’ve gathered from below as
if they could take away the misery they see for maybe
just a little while

A Tiny Ember

d’Verse Poets – Quadrille #64 – Quick!Write something!
Dee is tending bar today and looking for some quickness from us


A Tiny Ember

it didn’t happen quickly –
Rather
a slow magical process
a bit by bit transformation

no spark that burst to flame –
Rather
a tiny ember that glowed within
warmed my soul

my heart

fed my muse
until I turned from poet
into poem

On Cloud Nine

Poetic Bloomings – PROMPT #214 – YOUR NUMBER’S UP
Marie Elana and Walt have challenged us to use a phrase with a number in it as the prompt for our poeming this week.

On Cloud Nine
There was no light-hearted laughter
On cloud nine
No warm feeling of joy prevailed
On cloud nine
Clouds one through eight sang, but not
On cloud nine

There was bickering and tears
On cloud nine
Angry gray feelings abounded
On cloud nine
Until no more could be held
On cloud nine
And down poured all the grief upon the earth
From cloud nine

—-
We’ve had non-stop rain here for two days.

A Compromise of Purple

Poetic Bloomings – PROMPT #213 – YOU COME TO MY SENSES

A great prompt from Maria Elena and Walt over at Poetic Bloomings

A Compromise of Purple

 

Your words flew out at me in shades
Of haughty reds and angry oranges
Pushing, rejecting my humble words
In hues of blues that would not yield

Your words and mine began
To blend, to merge, to smooth
Into a new idea
A compromise of purple