Poets United Midweek Motif: Silence

For Poets United Midweek Motif – Silence

Afterwards
The silence after the argument between us was devastating –
like the silence after an F-5 tornado –
trailers were coming to that last roll,
electrical wires were still buzzing and popping.
We sat on opposite sides of the fireplace –
burning its warmest friendliest best
but we were not to be lured into its trap.
We were imprisoned inside my house by the snow –
I wanted you gone and you wanted to be gone.
All civility between us was shattered.
I made myself a cup of hot chocolate –
with a bit of bourbon and offered you none.
The snow fell silently
and steadily outside.
I sipped from my mug.
At last the cats came out of hiding.

Ode to Dying Autumn

An ode in the style of Neruda.  Posted in Real Toads Tuesday Platform and dVerse Poets Pub: Meeting the Bar.

Nocturne in Black and Gold 1875 – Whistler

ode to dying autumn
here on this final day
before the first heavy frost,
the sun blazes through the trees
like a roaring wildfire
burning away the leaves –
sky and clouds,
turning into pitch-black night
before this final night
when heavy frost falls –
the *river of heaven flows –
the tiny lights of the stars
reflect off the wings
of the ghost owl
gliding through the night.
The night is an explosion of black and gold –
a painting by Whistler.
The day dawns grey
and cold with frost covering all –
a veil of hoarfrost –
The year’s dying bride walks down the aisle
of the church of trees –
The cloud mother weeps at her child
going down that long aisle to the end –
her raintears wash away the colors
of the leaves like so much paint,
disappearing down the ditches –
the trees reflect off the street
like an Impressionist painting,
I stand and watch the leaves make their way
to the creek at the foot of the hill –
little dinghies floating on the water.
And now it is day.
the frost is gone.
the bride is gone.
Autumn has left the building –
Winter is waiting its cue to enter.
cold and rainy day –
leaves fall like rain – colors fade –
silence descends like snow

*river of heaven – amanogawa – Japanese for the Milky Way – it is a seasonal kigo for haiku

Quadrille Monday: Kick

Monday it is Quadrille Monday. De is the pubtender. what is a quadrille? It is a poem of exactly 44 words, excluding the title. The quadrille must include a prompted word. today it is “kick” – kicked, kicking, kicks, kickle, a form of the word kick. Come join us for these fun and short poems.  The Pub opens at 3:00 pm EST Monday.

Kicking Leaves
I like my morning walks
especially in autumn –
leaves have fallen –
they lie stacked up on the sides of our lane.
I kick a group of them up in the air.
A snake goes flying.
Now, ain’t that a kick in the head?

copyright kanzen sakura

Real Toads: Not a Mermaid

Today over at Real Toads, we have another photo prompt for the Weekend. I don’t know what it is about these photo prompts that drive me straight to the back row of the Dark Places Drive-In!

photo by Man Ray 1929

The Not-a-Mermaid
She was caught in the fishermen’s net
and hung upside down to dry.
her hair hung in ripples
like the marks of the riptide
on the sand bar.
Poor dead thing,
admiring her hair in the breeze
as it wrapped around her,
She slipped and fell
off the cliff and drowned.
No mermaid –
Just another vain girl
hoist on her own petard –
or tangled in her own hair –
Anyway,
She dropped,
She drowned,
She was snared.
Only her hair still looks alive.
One of the fishermen admired her locks.
Quick as thought he chopped off her hair
with a gutting knife –
This’ll make a luverly wig for me wife!

Dreaming November

This is for Angie’s prompt over at Real Toads. She found a wonderful book with suggestions for and lists of words for inspiration: Sandford Lyne titled, “Writing Poetry from the Inside Out:  Finding Your Voice Through the Craft of Poetry.” It seems a most excellent book I shall check out this afternoon. Come visit us at Real Toads: http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/11/get-listed-november-edition.html She gives us several lists with four words in each. I chose the list with November, layer, stones, throat to write a poem of 100 words or less.  I am also posting this today at dVerse Poets Pub for their Open Link Night. I am also posting at Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Dreaming November
rust-colored November
settles into the stones
in layers of newly fallen leaves
old leaves rotting leaves –
a smell that catches in the back of my throat
and makes me want to put down roots.
November is the calm before the winter storms –
stones sleep
beneath the leaves
beside the creek
flowing clear over rounded stones
before settling into the
pool at the end –
sleeping leaves dreaming of summer.

copyright Kanzen Sakura

dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics

Today Bjorn is prompting us at dVerse Poets Pub for Tuesday Poetics. He is asking us to write something “Halloweeny”, so here is my contribution. I have always been fascinated with late Victorian life and especially the people who used to hang about the extremely fashionable Café Royale in Soho. It’s denizens have always had an “alternate” story for me. This poem in no way implies anything about Wilde or Whistler. It is after all, just a poem. And the Café Royale is still in existence serving their incomparable cafe mochas. Posted for dVerse Poets Pub and Real Toads in Imaginary Gardens: http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/10/the-tuesday-platform_31.html

public domain photo James Whistler

The Salon at the Café Royale
Because of his story about Dorian Gray
everyone thought Oscar Wilde was a vampire.
Everyone thought he based it on himself.
Well, he didn’t –
He based in on a young man of whom he was enamored.
However he was a vampire.
His friend Whistler was a werewolf.
I know. I often stood in my window
when I was a child and watched the
two of them leaving the house next door.
I saw how they gleamed in the moonlight.
I watched how they leapt over the garden wall
with the effortless grace of deer.
I watched when they returned and
I saw them splattered with blood
and heard Oscar’s high laughter
and Whistler’s lower chuckles.
I saw them. Yes I saw them.
I was not dreaming when I saw
the vampire and the werewolf
leap down from the wall
and settle weightlessly as dead leaves
upon the lawn.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lh0w01S7Jnk&w=560&h=

Haibun Monday: Kindness

Monday is Haibun Monday at dVerse Poets Pub. I am hosting the Pub tonight and am prompting the word: Kindness. Kindness to another, kindness done to you…kindness. the haibun is to consist of one or two tight paragraphs with 150 words and a haiku to top it off. Come join us and read. Let’s be kind to each other!  the Pub opens at 3:00 pm, EST/

Pizza and Warmth
Years ago, I was unemployed and had reached my last dollar. I decided to splurge it on a slice of pizza and a soda at a local pizza place. The owner looked at me when I ordered the slice and began to count change out on the counter. Instead of one slice, I found two slices on the place. I looked at him and thanked him sincerely. He smiled and said, anytime you come in until you get a job, the pizza is on me. I don’t know how he knew. I guess he could tell by how I was counting out the change or the desperate look in my eyes. I took my slices to my table and began to eat. When I finished the pizza, I was full and warmed. Full of pizza and warmed by his kindness. The lesson of kindness taught by my grandmother when I was a child was paid in full.

kindness overflows –
Cold outside – warm inside
payback for years past

public domain image

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