A place for poems and pics
d’Verse Poetics – Can You Give Me A Hand?
Mish at mishunderstoodhas challenged us to write a poem using “hands” as our inspiration.
—–
Opening Hand
she shoved her hand into
a pocket and found she
had nothing to say
her thoughts
were clenched in a fist
sharp ideas dug into her palms
until letter by letter
fingers of words uncurled
she flung them up to the sky
and poems rained down
reached out and waved
farewell to her
Bouts-Rimes Revisited; Meeting the Bar
over at d’Verse Poets
—–
he asked me to stay
and then he just sits
staring at a screen to play
some computer game, battle wits
with other cyber-nerd misfits
we live like some tv comedy
there’s even a neighbor who flits
in and out to share the tragedy
of her life but never looks me in the eye
if I was really smart
I’d start to cry
mope and sigh as if he’d broken my heart
instead I write these words with a moan
while my heart slowly turns to stone
d’Verse Poetics – Choose a Line
Naomi Shihab Nye
from “Burning the Old Year” – lists of vegetables, partial poems
——
I think I might be a writer
ink pumps under
my skin
letters leak
from the corners
of my eyes
I produce
“lists of vegetables,
partial poems “-
flash fiction with
barely a spark,
to-do (or not) to-do
list after list
I pen my pal and
she pens me
I dream in fiction
and wake in my
own memoir
d’Verse Poetics
Adventures in Traveling
_________
The midnight train calls out my name
As if a game
Come ride with me
A dreamlike plea
We’ll ride along the night time rails
When day exhales
The city sleeps
Its secrets keep
Bright neon lights eclipse the moon
And streets are strewn
With shiny girls
Sweet music swirls
Dark corners hide the other side
Those cast aside
They tear apart
My beating heart
Let’s ride the train till morning comes
Night’s life succumbs
To men in suits
Women in boots
I waited alone in my
room all night long
I twiddled my thumbs
I hummed an old song
I wrote a short story
a sonnet or two,
a limerick, acrostic,
free verse and haiku
I ate a stale cookie
maybe two or three
I went to the kitchen
and brewed up some tea
I tried playing cards
and my favorite board game
but all by myself
they were actually quite lame
I stared out the window
at a dark inky sky
Not even a star
twinkled back in reply
I waited all night
for that soft glowing face
I suppose the old moon
must be lost out in space
—-
Over at d’Verse Meeting the Bar, Victoria is asking “Me, Myself and I …or is it?’
The challenge is to write a poem in the first person
I’ve got
nothing
I sat in the kitchen
at the antique table
with my paper and
favorite pen at the
ready
nothing
I moved to the living
room and sat in
the plaid over-stuffed
chair with my journal
and a #2 pencil
nothing
I went to the dining
room and sat quietly
in the dark, waiting
nothing
Up the steps
counting each one
and into my bedroom
and there curled up
under the patchwork
quilt, snoring gently
I found my muse
—-
Over at d’Verse it’s Poetics – Room With or Withour a View
she always closed her eyes
when wishing on a star
she could not bear the scar
if there were only lies
some planet in disguise
bold, shameless avatar
she always closed her eyes
when wishing on a star
she did not realize
the moon strummed a guitar
hummed love songs from afar
with tender moonbeam sighs –
she always closed her eyes
—-
Today at d’Verse Poets Pub, Gayle from Bodhirose has challenged us to write a Rondel
Meeting the Bar; the Rondel
“Your shoes will make you happy today”
—
my shoes have taken the day off
the pink pumps are sleeping in
those boots are not made for walking
and walking shoes are hiding
under my bed sticking their
tongues out at the sun
even my flip flops have flipped
over and gone back to sleep
my toes are giggling as they
wiggle in the dewy grass
and I am happy
——
They’re talking fortune cookies at the d’Vers Pub today
I did not sleep until
I heard the owl call
to me and the
crickets sing
a lullaby of
gentle songs
moon and stars
were my night-lights
chasing away the
phantoms that lurked
in the corners of the
night
only then did I dream
—
Over ar dVerse it’s a Quadrille Monday – thanks Bjorn
(photo by Gabriella)
The old man had fished trout steams all over the country. He had the best tackle money could buy, everything his many guides had recommended. He’d fished in clear mountain streams and beside raging rivers. He’s caught salmon, walleye, perch, and pike.
Now in retirement he has met his match. Every morning he sits along the stream in the little town near his home, patiently casting his line over and over, trying to catch the elusive trout that live in its deep pools.
finding refuge
under an old stone bridge
native trout
——
Haibun Monday # 6 at d’Verse
