A place for poems and pics
d’Verse Poets Pub – Poetics: Mardi Gras Mambo
–
Rolled Over by the Good Times
This poem is flat on its back
Decked out in beads
Passed by and forgotten
Its party days are over
No words left to dance through
These vacant lines on blank paper
It will now march to the beat
Of a different meter – slow down
Become reflective, introspective
Make each syllable accountable
Tread hand-in-hand with its muse
On soft iambic feet
d’Verse Poets Pub – Poetics: Getting Personal
–
Look Me in the Eyes
Blue-green eyes stare back at me
This true reflection of myself
They know me – show me
For who I am
Mostly hopeful, happy, smiling
Little crinkles creep out from
The corners – laugh lines
(not crows feet)
Sometimes pensive, tense(ive)
Even sad – without a sparkle to share
They’ve got the blues
Squinty, maybe flinty, just a hint
Of yellow flecks flash disapproval,
Or confusion – a simple warning-
If you know to notice
Everything about this me is held
Within these blue-green eyes
Staring out at you
Poetics – Through the looking glass – d’Verse Poets Pub
Bjorn has us stepping up to the mirror behind the bar
~
Mirror On The Wall
The face in the mirror
Tried to give me a flawed update
Fake news
False report
But I fact-checked those
Negative statements
Googled the hearsay
Then turned out the light
Poetics: Bold Tributes
“The five kings count the dead but do not soften
The crusted wound nor pat the brow;”
⁃ Dylan Thomas
from, ‘The Hand That Signed the Paper Felled a City’
No Longer Kings
When I asked about ‘the five kings’ they said
‘count the dead’ and then come back
so, I go quietly out ‘but do not’ look for
dead to count, instead I find a way to ‘soften
the crusted wound’ upon this fragile land
a song to sing to bless the ones who sacrifice
a word to mend the tear dividing brothers
not just to sooth the flame ‘nor pat the brow’
but open eyes and hearts and minds
a prayer that kings will leave their thrones
and we no longer need to count our dead
d’Verse Poets Pub – Looking Out / Looking In
Lillian has us contemplating windows in the garden. Are you looking out or peeking in?
~
Escape
I found your chrysalis in the garden
hanging under a wilted zucchini leaf
perfectly camouflaged except for
the ring of tiny gold dots that added
just a touch of bling
I rescued you for surely you would
not survive if you fell to the ground
and put you in a mesh cage for safety
I placed your new home in the laundry room
away from curious cats and four year-olds
When you emerged one morning
you were weak and wrinkled – not able to fly
Before lunch I checked on you again
and you were gone – flying somewhere
in my house searching for freedom
I searched too – upstairs and down
worried you would die before you
found a way to escape this unnatural place
I picked zinnias and put them in front
of a window hoping to lure you there
But you were already there on the screen
waiting, looking at the trees and sky
the flowers beckoned to you – called to you escape
I raised the screen just a little and you flew off
I could feel the joy and you floated higher still
d’Verse Poets Pub – Poetics: And the sign said….
Mish is tending bar over at the pub today and she has us seeing signs
—
I saw a bus one day that had Out Of Service where the next stop header would be. I wondered what it would be like to tell everyone I was ‘out of service’.
~
Out Of Service
I am an empty bus
no stops to make
no riders to deliver
downtown, uptown
suburbs, the mall
the next destination, my choice
I turn the radio on – loud
nobody complains
open windows and let the wind blow through
no one to smile at, argue with
tell jokes to
no frustrations, complications – no fun
I halt my empty bus
at your stop
will you ride with me
D’Vers Poets
Poetics : Artisans
Kim is our host for this challenge –
“The challenge is to write a poem about an artisan or wright, for example a weaver, thatcher, wheelwright or carpenter, or any other craftsman you can think of. It can be a real person, you or someone you know, or a fictional person. All I ask is that you emulate the form and/or style of one of the Heaney poems.”
~
The Weaver
She was a weaver known by all
She’d weave for you a throw, a shawl
The wealthy of the town would pay
Three shillings just so they could say
They wore the finest ever made
By the widow living in the glade
She wove some magic in each one
A spell of peace for everyone
I sat each night upon her knee
As warp and weft she taught to me
But when she died her spell died too
And peace remained for just a few
It was to me the burden fell
To learn to weave, the chaos quell
Now to my God each night I’ve prayed
For mercy, I had disobeyed
Slept when sitting at the loom
And her sweet peace I did foredoom
d’Verse Poetics : Character Study
Walt has us thinking about someone who is a “Memorable Character”
~
he was a whistler
not by birth but by
inclination
no humming or one note tunes
his songs would swirl
through the house
perfect pitch
blue eyes sparkling
and we all smiled
d’Verse Poetics: Sentiments of the Southwest
Mish would like us to join her in the Southwest
~
dry winds blow tumble weeds
across hot pavement chasing
each other like children
sunsets finger paint the mountains
a watermelon pink
spring rains turn dull sandy fields
into meadows laughing in flowers
and in the night the howl of
coyotes stirs my soul
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
rhymeswithbug 