Posted in poetry

Haiku

d’Verse Poets Pub – Poetics: travels in the wild

Haiku
(about a squirrel hunting in the mountains)

peaks covered in Oaks
squirrel hunting in the mountains
has found Nirvana

Posted in poetry

Seeking Merope

d’Verse Poets Pub – Poetics: Stars that count

Seeking Merope

Somewhere hidden in darkness
she waits for her chance to glow.
Seductive and pulsing her
shine is covered with dusty
silken robes of jealousy.
Sisters who fear her brightness
secret her away in shame.

Posted in poetry

haiku

d’Verse Poets Pub – Poetics: Look into my Eyes

haiku

wisdom unspoken
golden eyes that know my heart
the soul of a cat

Soul of a Cat by Candace Kubinec
Posted in poetry

Poor November

d’Verse Poets Pub -Poetics – Stoddard, Longfellow and Bryant say hello! (What does November mean to you?)


Poor November

Oh, poor November, ugly duckling
of the Autumn season.
Trees stripped bare of vibrant
orange and yellow by a cold, cruel wind.
Left to idly sit, waiting, between celebrations,
with nothing to do but ponder
the condition of the human race.

Posted in d'Verse Poets Pub, poetry

The Old Cat

d’Verse Poets Pub – Poetics: Make some room
http://dversepoets.com

The Old Cat

The old cat has no room he calls his own,
he claims a spot til it’s no longer new.
He wanders round this space seeking a throne,

a sunny nook to warm his weary bones –
a padded window seat will surely do
The old cat has no room he calls his own.

Somedays a mournful yeowl he does intone,
when favorite blankets have been left askew.
He wanders round this space seeking a throne,

preferring quietness, to be alone
to ponder catching flies and mice and shrews.
The old cat has no room he calls his own –

he owns it all, each board and stepping stone.
His humble servants also know it’s true.
He wanders round this space seeking a throne,

a cardboard box that he can get into
and fall asleep, curled up and unbeknown.
The old cat has no room he calls his own,
he wanders round the space seeking a throne.

Posted in d'Verse Poets Pub, poetry

Early in the Morning

dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics: On Wandering & Observing

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.

Posted in d'Verse Poets Pub, poetry

Left Behind In May

d’Verse Poets Pub – Poetics: Limbo
Take a break or keep writing? I think I know the answer to that.

Left Behind in May

 

this poem has been left hanging –
languishing in limbo, cast aside,
out of date, too late for PAD
it is twiddling its thumbs
humming on an empty stage
with its meter running low
it’s a free verse for the taking
marking time on sore feet
until opportunity comes again
as leaves flutter down

Posted in d'Verse Poets Pub, poetry

Of Souls Lost and Found

d’Verse Poets – Poetics: love the words
Laura has us channelling Dylan Thomas for this Pub challenge
BELL-VOICED, CRADLE-PETALS,  DARK-VOWELLED, DUST-TONGUED,
FIRE-DWARFED, GRAVE-GROPING,  HARE-HEELED,  HEAVEN-CIRCLING,
LARK-HIGH,  MAP-BACKED,  MOON-BLOWN,  MUFFLE-TOED,OWL-LIGHT, RINGED-SEA, SCYTHE-EYED, SHE-BIRD,
TEAR-CULLED, TIDE-LOOPED, WATER-SPOKEN, WHALE-WEED

For this Tuesday Poetics I’m asking you to write a poem using at least FOUR of the hyphenated compound words from the above list. Employ as little or as much of Thomas’ other methodologies too as but most of all, let’s love the words!

Of Souls Lost and Found

 

He walked softly, muffle-toed, through
the back of time. He walked until he
caught the ghost of her thoughts, heaven-circling,
whirling, swirling, out of reach. He walked straight
into yesterday where moon-blown memories
faded and dust-tongued poets stoked the fires of
remorse. He walked on, tide-looped and dizzy. And
when she found him, her bell-voiced lullaby and
tear-culled embrace brought him back to life.