By Any Other…

“Oh, bee barf…?”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Why?” I smile knowingly.

“Because it’s an insult!”

“Not to me.” my standard response.

A decade plus later…

“All this damned time you’ve been calling me honey?” His mouth ajar.

“Yes, bee barf.”

Stupid Internet ruined everything…

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A memory of the day my late-husband learned something of a sticky situation…

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Quadrille #13 

Today’s Quadrille (a poem of 44 words: no more, no less – not including the title) has to include the word jar. A word that can find many uses, as a noun or, as I’ve chosen to do, a verb (with or without an object).

The Call…

There’s a demon sitting on my shoulder
Whispering things and it’s getting bolder

A susurrus of dark and dangerous things
Makes the sinner in me want to come out and sing

And it’s getting stronger (you know you want to…)

Leaving its score on dark parts to remind me
Desire for such is within not behind me

Right now I know I’m the one in control
Of what’s clawing and braying to get to  my soul

But for how much longer? (you know you want to…)

There’s a demon sliding along my spine
Twixt my head and my heart claiming “both will be mine”

I’m crying for the call of it chills me
I’m lying for the call of it thrills me

And it’s getting stronger (you know you want to…)

Though I feel the rumble of defiant laughter
I do not give in to the dark it’s after

But for how much longer? (you know you want to…)

I feel the scratching on the surface of my skin
Hear the voices dripping with inevitable sin
Scraping and tearing at what fight’s left within
Let me in! Let me in! Let me! Let me in!

No!

Let me in! Let me in! Let me! Let me in!

Nooooooo!

Let me in! Let me in! Let me! Let me in!

Nooooooooo…

There’s a demon crawling under my skin (you know you want to…)
A sadistic lover calling from within (you know I want to…)
And it’s getting stronger (I know you want to…)

Ooooooooooooh…

Not much longer (I know I want to…)

Ooooooooooooh…

I know I want to…

Oh

I want to…

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dverse

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Open Link Night #177

 

Don’t Give!

I look at him and I see a face:
One that’s covered in silent tears
His voice is in the deepest bass
Every word riddled by silent fears

Don’t give!

Always so cautious, always trying
never to give himself away
And yet I can see, he’s dying
a little bit more each day

Don’t give!

And the thought stabs my heart like a knife
Time put him in this spot and only time can heal
That all I can do is pray that the strife
Does not push him past where he can deal

Don’t give!

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real-toads-buton

Real Toads | Tuesday Platform

Another Forgotten Soul

I hear the steady rhythm of a familiar beat
The beat that belongs to my heart
Each intake of breath induces own brand of sweet

I’ve been lectured its beat won’t last through the night
A motif I’ve heard several times before
This new morning again dispels that tale and again I’m alright

Well as right as right can be with these tubes in my chest
The clicks, chinks and whoosh, a daily orchestration of my machines
I half think to ask to take them out they’ve done their last test

I’ve buried children, a husband, and friends
The blessing and curse of having a long life
Outliving those who would be with me at my end

No longer with the ones of my long life’s sharing
To pillow my days with fond memories
I slowly die alone attended by some other’s caring

Who will last close these feathered eyes is out of my control
With no one left to rescue the memory of my name
I wonder how long before I’m another forgotten soul

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At dVerse we’re asked to pen our fears. This is mine – that I will outlive everyone who would love and advocate for me. That I will die, not necessarily by myself, but definitely alone.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Poetics: What Are You Afraid Of ?

Real Toads – The Tuesday Platform

Sevenling: (That entry)

That entry with stately Neo classic columns of two centuries ago
This courtyard with intricate Moorish tile work showing past Spanish influence
The balcony with geometric bas relief of American mid-century modernism

All coexist on a block hinting at the beauty of what it once was
On a crumbling calle of poverty and dilapidation of what it is
Within sight a renovating neighborhood of what will be again

Means nothing to those in a one room shack out in the back country

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Today’s form: Sevenling.

A Sevenling is a  7-line poem (two tercets and a one-liner as the final stanza) with these parameters:–

– Three lines that contain an element of three. This could be three connected or contrasting statements, a list of three names or details, etc. The three things can take up all three lines, or be contained anywhere in the stanza.

– Three more lines that contain an element of three (can relate to stanza one directly, as a juxtaposition, or have no connection whatsoever).

– Final line: a punchline, strange twist, narrative summary, or punctuation mark, of sorts.

No particular rhyme, rhythm or meter are required. Titles are also not required. If you do decide to title it, the title should be “Sevenling:” followed by the first few words in parentheses. The tone should be mysterious, offbeat, or disturbing, and the poem should have an atmosphere that invites guesswork from the reader.

Everything

You

Never said

What I wanted to hear

Show

What I wanted to see

Gave only

What I needed

So they said

It wasn’t enough

But I knew

It was

Everything

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Posting a belated for yesterday’s interview Catching Up with Samuel Peralta at dVerse.

A Twitter poem  is the challenge of writing poems within the limit of 140 characters (including spaces, line-spaces etc.) of a tweet.

The Beholder

Beauty: sells tanning lotion in one area and lightening creams in another
Is: 
the TVs, magazines and runways of thinness attainable
In: a
 land where the curvy is passable, yet too fat is unacceptable– too? 
The: 
rhinoplasty done to make noses look smaller while
Eye: 
get surgery to make them look wider. 
Of: 
braids deemed unprofessional or locs truly dreaded in
The: 
root of – the problem?And if it can’t grow is it clip, glue or sew to a
Beholder: in the mirror who wonders…

But who is the beholder?

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At dVerse an interview with Anthony Desmond, and Gayle hosting, prompts us with beliefs; pondering what we might believe in, or had believed in.

I was struck by a conversation among friends of the (in)constant state of beliefs in what is considered beautiful and by whom.

dVerse  Poets Pub | Part Five: Revisiting Anthony Desmond

Sevenling: (For two hours daily)

For two hours daily my parakeet squawks
while my cat hisses as
my dog is howling

All in harmony with cars honking below
Planes flying above and the kid
badly practicing the cello next door

Earplugs are a thing of beauty indeed

claudia-music-1

Artist: Claudia Schoenfeld
Used with Permission

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Today at dVerse Victoria inspires us to use one of the paintings of fellow dVerse Poet Claudia Schoenfeld for our poems. As Claudia is also a musician we are further challenged to write a poem using the SEVENLING form with a theme of music.

The painting I chose clearly inspired me in an offbeat direction.

dVerse ~Poets Pub |
Poetry and Painting Embrace: We Can’t Forget Claudia Schoenfeld

¡Cuba Libre!

what the books can’t tell,
the news can’t sell,
the senses imbibe –
aromas alongside stenches
vintage contrasts innovative
durable touching dilapidated
rancid against delectable
melodic rhythms divide harsh screeches
and the fierce pride of a people
who journeyed time
while standing frozen in it

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I recently returned from a trip to Cuba and fully understand why, among many things, it is called a A Country Frozen In Time.  A year ago today, Cuba and the United States restored diplomatic relations. It’s only been a few scant years since Cuba’s resurgence into the US’ consciousness as a restricted travel destination and while the times are indeed a’changing for the country as those restriction become more and more relaxed, it has a very long way to go. That which makes Cuba unique remains very much in place.

dVerse ~Poets Pub | 5th Anniversary Quadrille – Journey