Sunset
It will be dark soon. The winter Sun,
stretching its weaken rays toward Earth,
will fall once again into the sea.
She sits where the ocean meets the land,
her toes touching the wet sand,
silently waiting for the last gasp of the Sun.
Proud Secrets
Proud Secrets
The winter sun shines weakly through gray clouds
Black secrets hurried into my dream,
They only saw our souls so proud,
Twirled in the wave of an open hand.
Inspired by Emily Dickinson and Sara Teasdale
COMPOSED IN VERSE BY VERSE
I provided the first line, then chose from lines suggested by verse by verse. It was difficult to find lines that made some kind of sense when put together.
Soul Sounds
Soul Sounds
My soul thrilled to the music of birds
and buzzing bees that lived in the
backyard garden, but this landlocked
soul did not know true music until it
felt the rhythm of ocean moving in the
darkness and heard waves crashing on the beach
—
A Simple Gift
A Simple Gift
I looked for a love poem to
give to you, but none were
as tender as the gleam in your eyes
I listened for a love song to
give to you, but none were
as stirring as the sound of your voice
I searched for some bauble to
give to you, but none had magic
to touch your soul
So I stand here before you
and hold out my humble heart
—
It’s Valentine’s Day in the Pub
Groundhog Day in Pennsylvania
Groundhog Day in Pennsylvania
Crowds gathered, wearing puffy jackets,
wooly hats – braving snowfall to
await the great prediction
Silence fell as night waned
and light streaked the horizon
A collective prayer rose up for an end to winter’s icy grip –
a prayer there would be no shadow
Quadrille #168
Poor Little Poem
Poor Little Poem
This poem’s not feeling very bold
In fact it feels a little cold
Its edges have begun to fold
Its ink is fading, truth be told
The muse has hassled and cajoled
But its ideas seem worn and old
Unrolled
Paroled
Retold
And unsold
–
Tenebrous Friend
Tenebrous Friend
We revel in the light
Hang stings of sparkling bulbs
to help us forget that darkness
exists, to erase our fears of unknown
matter. We turn our backs on
the night and worship the sun
How quickly we forget that nightfall
is the one friend that will keep our secrets
Candied
d’Verse Poets Pub – Quadrille #166. “I Like Candy”
Candied
I’ve been candied
A hard shell has been poured
over my soft center, protecting it
from constant poking and prodding
Hiding in the creamy sweetness
of my heart is a tiny morsel of
hardness, waiting to defend it from
any who reach too deeply
Still Waiting
Still Waiting
It was a time of bangles and tambourines –
a time of freedom, when we were seventeen
We danced, barefoot, in a field
amid a jungle of wildflowers and kneeled
beneath a cashmere moon, joining
hearts and voices with the universe, rejoicing
We thought we could punch a hole in the future
and our dreams would be the mending sutures
And now, we still strum our guitars,
waiting for the promised avatar
—
Travelers
Travelers
I watch them, young people with
their backpacks and trendy clothes,
their cool hairstyles and uncomfortable shoes.
They walk through the airport with a
confidence bestowed on them by
nature. Secure in their ability to navigate
the maze of shops and signage and crowds.
I can not help wandering how they will
weather the storms that living brings or
if they too will someday join the shuffling
mass of elderly travelers, confused and hesitant.
rhymeswithbug 