The Sinner’s Prayer

He pleas to the Great Yonder

Help me now

The path was wrong to travel I know
The seeds of which he did sow
A darkness harvested to seep
In full regret of the fruit he reaps

I’ll take you there is heard…

It is too much

He vales to his knees to ponder

If the means will be forgiven to cope
With a prayer, he does dare hope
That he will not be left to wail and wallow
He closes his eyes in faith and follows

Oh!

I’ll take you there is heard…

It is too little

He opens his eyes in wonder

The core of his soul is shaken
To learn he was mistaken
He aimed his pleas to a gate higher
But is led to a lower pit of fire

He know the ‘there’ he deserves is the one he’ll see.

Oh! Oh! Mercy!

It is too late

painting of a path. One end leads to the gates of heaven - the other end to a pit in hell.


Written for Thursday Inspiration #142 I’ll Take You There
I was inspired by this image…

Image of a man on his knees in prayer with the quote "The sinner's prayer was a desperate plea for mercy"

The italicized lines above are from the song “I’ll Take You There” by The Staple Singers.

The Sunday Whirl: Wordle-535 – See?

It started with an annoyed sigh. A moment of here we go again(!) that will lead into being fraught with worry. He’s already had a glimpse of this frustration with others in his family and knew the shape of things to come.

It could not be avoided, still he chaffed against it.  

He first discovered it might be an issue when he could barely discern the gap that differentiated the characters he knows should be there. A gap he knows was there before today. His breath caught in the shift of self-awareness he was not happy about.

It wasn’t time for that yet. It couldn’t be.

Despite the low hanging lights, the bright lighting itself was not enough for him to read the tiny print on the restaurant menu thrust in front of him.

He glared at his girlfriend’s amused smirk as she offered the pair she wore.

Try as he might, he could not avoid the truth anymore. Vanity be damned, he needed glasses.

woman handing man reading glasses in fancy restaurant
I googled eyeglasses restaurant. You have NO idea how stoked I was to find this perfect image!

sunday whirl


The Sunday Whirl: Wordle – 535

sigh, glimpse, fraught, shape, shift, gap, low, might, moment, lead, thrust, breath

Calliope and Melpomene


I am amused, bemused
By your rapier wit,
And sharp tongue
Where complements are calming
And condemnations cutting
You always keep me on en garde
Whether I am
Touched or touchéd
You make your point
With words
That delight and damn
My pen’s ink


Today at dVerse Dee, aka Whimsygizmo, asks us to takes our cues with muse in the form of a Quadrille, a poem of precisely 44 words, not including the title, and must include the prompt word MUSE.

Here I pay a slight homage to the two muse who fill my pen with prose and poem the most. Calliope and Melpomene.

The Horns of the Hunt

The horns of the hunt echoed across the snow
The air cold and crisp with its biting sting
Such is the path this winter does sow
But the chase was on, we felt not a thing

Ah ho! Ah ho! A hunting we go!
The horns! The horns! Our tales echo!

Aye, with patience we stalked our quarry
We laid in the deep snow at readiness
Kills decisive and quick, never we tarry
Our arrows loud in the emptiness

Through trees and brush, for buck and doe
The horns! The horns! Our tales echo!

The necessities are done to prepare and pack
We lift our horn so loud to blow
Work done we celebrate and travel back
For to our homes we the wearied go

Our horns lay tell of successful tow
The horns! The horns! Our tales echo!


Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie | First Line Friday: December 17, 2021

Our host Dylan provides the first line, we get to write whatever comes afterward. Length, genre, and structure are completely up to us. We are feel free to modify the line as we see fit, adding punctuation, quotes, or other bits if so desired.  Or for more of a challenge, change nothing.

The line for this week is: The horns of the hunt echoed across the snow.

The Bottom

A sober heart
All knew him to be
Standing good with Bill W
Yes, that was he

Then dark days took
And his foundation shook

From the highest peak
His good standing soiled
Never again found the bottom
To a bottle of Crown Royal

Glass with dark liquor splashing out

I saw the bottle of Crown Royal in my mind and Muse took it and stomped.

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dVerse Poets Pub | Quadrille #141:
Heady is the Poem That Wears the Crown


De Jackson, aka WhimsyGizmo, lets us have a little crowning glory in the form of a quadrille.

The Quadrille poem must be exactly 44 words in length – not including the title and use this week’s prompt word crown.



Was It Worth It?

The prince sighed at the tragic tableau before him.

Two mothers sobbed against their husbands whose own tears fell in silent grief. All bemoaned their part played in what has come to pass. The two men glanced at one another, but neither could sustain the visual contact. Their hate too old. Their pain too fresh.

“What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow out of this stony rubbish?” he looked to each of the four red rimmed eyes, but none could return his stare.

“It could have begun here. Grown into something beautiful had you let it. Instead, it ends with them and with you, now the last of your line.”  

“Was it worth it?” He spread his arms to the ones before him, but each knew the gesture encompassed several others no longer there to speak. “Capulet. Montague. Go bury your children.”


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dVerse Poets Pub | Prosery: The Waste Land

At dVerse Mish tends bar and welcomes us to another round of Prosery where we are asked to write a very short piece of prose that tells a story, with a beginning, a middle and an end, in any genre of our choice.

Since it is a kind of Flash Fiction, there is a limit of 144 words. It must include a complete line from a poem in the story, within the word limit.

Punctuation can be changed, but it is not allowed to subtract or insert words in between parts of the original quotation.

Today quote is from T.S. Eliiott’s The Wasteland “What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow out of this stony rubbish?”

In my mind Romeo and Juliet are the branches that would have grown from the stony rubbish of their families’ hate had it been allowed to take root.

Two Sides

All day and night
I want of you – I
Want so deeply that “want”
Is too trite a word – this
To me, my very breath – is to
Be in this love – to be
Yours and yours only
Forever and a day

What you ask of me, I ignore it all
Yes, I submit easily, but I
Don’t want what you want
This moment is all there is
This is all I want – to
Have you now – to be
Yours and only yours
But only for tonight


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v

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Poetics: For the love of puzzles . . .

Lillian is hosting Tuesday Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub where she shares her love of how one word leads to another in crossword puzzles and their cousins in style: Acrostic Poetry.

In Word Acrostic poetry the first word or the last word of each line in a single stanza poem spells out a message.

Lillian has created an Acrostic Plus where the first letter of each line in the first stanza spells out one or more words, while the last letter of each line in the next stanza spells out something different, and so on, but together there is one message.

We’re challenged to either write a poem that in some way relates to a puzzle, includes the word “puzzle”; or try our hand at an Acrostic poem. I combine a Word Acrostic with Lillian’s Acrostic Plus to tell a familiar tale of Mars and Venus,

And I Wake In The Morn

And I wake in the morn

In your arms

Your heart under head

Its beat in my ear

Sounds that lulled me true

Then woke me anew

Among decades and scores that pass

The sounds are now quiet

And I wake in the mourn


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dVerse Poets Pub | Quadrille #134: We {heart} poems

De Jackson, aka WhimsyGizmo, lets us have a little heart-to-heart in the form of a quadrille.

The Quadrille poem must be exactly 44 words in length – not including the title and use this week’s prompt word heart.


No More

Once cast aside in a dusty mire
You cleaned and placed it by the fire
To take it to a purpose higher
My heart’s desire, My heart’s desire

The iffy thought now deemed revere
An ideate I have no fear
Its impish voice whispers so clear
Within my ear; within my ear

The blade left there for me to see
The flames illume its true decree
You know that I won’t let it be
It calls to me; it calls to me

From thought to act it came to be
The one swiftly incised is me
Drenched within the scarlet spree
I smile with glee; I smile with glee

I take purchase upon the floor
And leave a gift you can’t ignore
You’ll find me smiling by the door
But I’m no more, no, I’m no more


This went unexpectedly dark. Among the Muse it is usually Calliope and Erato who have my ear, but this time it was Melpomene who called loudest.

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dVerse Poets Pub | Poetry Form: Monotetra
Grace tends the bar and challenges us to write a Monotetra.

The monotetra, a poetic form created by Michael Walker, must be written in tetrameter, either iambic or trochaic, approximately 8 syllables per line. Each stanza is a quatrain (four lines), that is monorhymed. The fourth line of each stanza must be a dimeter, or 4-syllable phrase, that is repeat twice.

The stanza structure:

Line 1: 8 syllables; A1
Line 2: 8 syllables; A2
Line 3: 8 syllables; A3
Line 4: 4 syllables, repeated; A4, A4

This poem can be as short as 1 or 2 quatrains and as long as a poet wishes.

The Cause

Image of man crying in sepia tone

I had watched
In waning sunlight
How it reflected
In soft contours
As one sun
Became another
And yet another
That set
In each watery stream
Until in darkness
I walk away
Too cowardly to admit
That I
Am the cause
Of those tears

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dVerse Poets Pub | Quadrille #132: Your Poem Theme: Stream

At dVerse, De Jackson, aka WhimsyGizmo, hosts bar for Quadrille Monday, where we are challenged to pen a poem of precisely 44 words (not counting the title), that must include the weekly word prompt. This weeks prompt: Stream