Quadrille Monday #32

At dVerse Poets Pub, De is hosting our quadrille. A quadrille is a poem of 44 words exactly, not including the title and usually includes a prompt word. Today the word is “echo”. this is my last post for awhile as my mother is not doing well and I am taking a hiatus away from dVerse Poets Pub. Blessings on all of you. I will be seeing you all again next month. http://dversepoets.com/2017/05/08/quadrille-32/

Room 214
the elderly woman sits in her wheelchair
looking out the window at the birds
on the birdfeeder.
her mind is filled with echoes and shadows
of years, times, and people past.
her daughter brushes her hair.
voices echo from other rooms.
she drifts asleep.

dVerse Poets Pub – Open Link Night

It is Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub. You can submit any one poem of your choice on subject and form. Come join us!

I hope
night falls gently in mid-May –
the sun fades but it is still bright
yet muted. birds sing their night songs
and the cardinal on the wire
serenades his territory –
Thweeeeee purty purty purty!
honeysuckle drifts on the gentle breeze.
the world is preparing for sleep.
I hope it is a restful night for all
I hope it is a night with sweet dreams
and full stomachs and hearts full of love.
but I hope. I hope.

Haibun Monday #2 The Rest of the Story

I rarely post more than one poem.  But today calls for a rest of the story post!

The Rest of the Story
Years went past. Even though I survived, it seemed just when I was moving on, some slurpy teary love song would come on the radio and I would begin to cry. The biggest offender was Same Old Lang Syne by Dan Fogelberg. I’d turn off the radio and then flip it back on and…cry. One day while at a Tai Kwan Do exhibition, I met this man: short, balding, beautiful blue eyes and a wicked one on the sparring floor. Somehow we began to talk and before I knew it, he had charmed me into going out for coffee with him. He was a true Southern boy – soft voice, those eyes, lovely mouth, and like a cat on stainless steel ball bearings on the sparring floor. I remember when he got his black belt. We had been dating awhile and truth be told, I was smitten. But I held back. One day in February – Valentine’s Day to be exact he asked me to come with him to his parents’ home to check on it as they were out of town for a couple of months. He sat me down in the family room and ran upstairs. When he returned, he told me he had something to say to me. I went cold inside. This was the breakup. He went over to the piano and began to chord and to sing. Heaven only knows how long it took him to learn to do this!
“We’re no strangers to love.
You know the rules and so do I…
(chord chord chord).

Heavens! It was Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up. I loved that song! And then he asked me to marry him. It was the first song we danced to at our wedding. I still love that song,  Seventeen years later and I still love him.

icy winds blow – sleet
falls – warmth of fireplace and love
inside the home.

Haibun Monday: Tramps Like us Were Born to Survive

It is Haibun Monday over at dVerse. I am hosting the prompt for this. I want us to write about music – singing along with the radio, driving and singing, working and singing…a fun prompt after all the heavy prompts. Come join us!

I Love This Song
I sit in the car in the parking lot of the airport. I had been sitting there for a couple of hours, remembering. You were on your way back to Japan. I was returning to a new apartment without any memories of you. We sold our house, split the money; divided the stuff. My heart felt like it was being pulled apart by rats, ravaged over, leaving it bloody and in pieces. Finally I turned the key in the ignition and headed back to town. I pulled up in front of the apartment. Now I was sitting in the car, on the street, under the fully leaved trees of summer. I made myself go into the apartment but I sat down on the couch. “Damn you” I whispered. “Damn you” I shouted. “Damn damn damn you!”. I smoked a joint and felt soothed, the rough edges smoothed out. I looked around the bare no-personality apartment. I walked over to my stereo deck and popped in the cassette and cranked it up to full blast. Gloria Gaynor belted out, I will survive. I played it again and again and again. I will survive. I began to dance around the room.

green leaves of summer
rustle in the breeze – birds sing
outside my window

Quadrille Monday: Quadrille #31

Today is Quadrille Monday over at dVerse Poets Pub. The prompts are always interesting and a poem of exactly 44 words is win-win! Come join us for a variety of short short poems based on the word prompt “still”. the word “still” or stillness or other derivative of the word is one of the required 44 words. http://dversepoets.com/2017/04/24/quadrille-31/

Chiaroscuro
the flower moon is waning –
sleepless I drift through the rooms
in my house like a ghost.
shadows from the curtains
throw dappled patterns on the floor –
a puzzle I cannot read.
the stillness is a dull roar in my ears.
the flower moon is waning.

dVerse Poets Pub: Open Link Night #194

Today is Open Link Night at the Pub. You can submit one poem of your choice of format and subject. I picked crows. There are apparently several prompts out there today regarding crows but I am not linking to any of them. Come visit us at dVerse! PS I also have other names for groups of crows hidden in my poem. http://dversepoets.com/2017/04/20/openlinknight-194/

The Crows are telling Stories
The crows are telling stories –
sitting on the wire
flying down to take a look-see
hovering over a parcel of worms
and pulling up a worm or two
mustering the troops to attack a hawk

The crows are telling stories –
squawking barking cackling
whistling squabbling cawing
their outlaw eyes weighing their options
their rivals their lovers
their nestlings

The crows are telling stories
arguing that it will rain
will remain dry
lifting their heavy wings
and swatting at the wind
and each other

The crows are telling stories.

dVerse Poetics: Wish you were here

Today De is hosting our prompt. We are to write “post card poetry” – think: micro poetry. to and from poetry, postcards from the (l)edge (thanks De!). Being the purist I am I decided to use some postcard sized index cards on to write my poetry to ensure it would actually fit on a postcard. Come by and visit! We wish you were with us! http://dversepoets.com/2017/04/18/tuesday-poetics-wish-you-were-here/ thank you De for this amazing prompt and exercise in brevity.

I.
the summer moon bursts
from behind the clouds – startled
an owl takes flight

II.
heavy blossoms pull down the branches
of trees by the river.
higher blossoms weep down their petals
upon the surface of the river
in which the submerged blossoms drown.
dead leaves cover the earth
beneath the trees.
Sharp winds blow
removing the corpses of winter.

III.
The heavens dazzle on
this warm spring night –
At the edge of the yard
an errant flicker of white on black.
A whisper of breeze touches my face.
Ghost of Nobody’s Cat
halts then moves on

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