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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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

Whispers From Erato

Muse whispering warriors ear

Take me now; I have need
Lexis to which I must heed

Ethereal whisper in my ear
Diaphanous sight before my eyes
Gossamer touch against my skin

The first preface to our prologue
Vellum void of phrase and prose

Let me bathe you in ballad
Let me shower you in sestina
Let my sweet imagery of nothing
Become your metaphor of everything

Let your periphrasis wrap me in symbolisms
Let your euphemisms surround me in similes
Let our soul be one for the discourse of rhythm
for the dialogue of reason, for the diction of rhyme

Let us fall down in the shadow of the valley of meter
Let us rise up on the rock of ages and iambs
Let us bask in the most of incremental repetition
Until only the onomatopoeia of our couplet is left

Diamante drops on parchment and papyrus
The final edict to our epilogue

Gossamer touch against my skin
Diaphanous sight before my eyes
Ethereal whisper in my ear

Lexis to which I must heed
Take me now; I have need


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dVerse Poets Pub | Poetics: Who’s your Muse?

Today Ingrid tends bar and invites us to choose our muse. I choose Erato, muse of love poetry and lyric poetry to let her sweet whispers scream everything. For when she  has need to speak I take heed to listen, and write… 

The Day She Rises

shnikt, shnikt

Metal strikes mineral in rhythmic space.

shnikt, shnikt

She is a lean shadow, sat alone. Silent tears shed blending into the briny tide that approach and recede her salt licked feet. Only saline tracks that frame her cheeks tell tale they existed.

Dawn chains to dusk, none saw her arrive, nor leave.

shnikt,

She has just been… there…

shnikt, shnikt,

Stone in one hand, blade in the other is no game or dream for her

shnikt,

We watch and wonder what on Earth caused this refrain

I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.

Words unspoken yet heard by all nonetheless

Not what they seem, the tears screen not her melancholy, but her rage

shnikt, shnikt

And all we know is: the day she rises will lead to the night someone falls

shnikt, shnikt


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dVerse Poets Pub | Prosery: Finding Ms. Zora Neale Hurston

Today Lisa introduces the pub to one of my favorite writers, Zora Neale Hurston and challenges us to write a piece of prose that is no longer than 144 words, sans title, and must include the line “I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.” from Hurston’s “How Does it Feel to be Colored Me” in World Tomorrow (1928). This can be flash fiction, nonfiction, or creative nonfiction, but it must be prose!

The Sunday Whirl | Wordle 510

refrain, lead, shed, dream, frame, space, recede, seem, screen, game, lean, chain

MLMM Sunday Writing Prompt, July 18/21 – The Quiet One

There

There in the shadows of the night
There within the glow of city lights
There are many things that can affright
There are just as many that excite

There, a riot is about to ignite
There in the shadows of the night
There, helicopters with floodlights
There, to televise the blight

There, someone chooses wrong over right
There, someone catches the wrong person’s sight
There in the shadows of the night
There, pray battles prey come stroke of midnight

There, under a sky dark and finite
There, where the moon is the only light
There, secret lovers meet to unite
There in the shadows of the night


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dVerse Poets Pub Tenth Anniversary |
Meet the bar with Chant poetry

Tonight as we continue to celebrate the Tenth Anniversary here at dVerse Poets Pub, Björn prompts us to use our voices in a chant.

Here in a mix of a-starting with the same word as opening rhyme and b- closing each line in a tight monorhyme, I also revisit the Quartern form for an assist.


My Words

I’m stripped soul-naked standing bare
To a universe made of blank paper
Its mocking nakedness haunts me
Seductively taunts me with its vapor

I see my words as pieces of my deepest soul
Shattered apart in my passions throes
Then brought together in a multi-hued mosaic
A stained glass window, if you will, of prose

My words reaching through time with voices of one from long ago
My words reaching for the vernacular of the street griot, ya kno’

Words lose me in the folds of its scripts
And lets me discover myself yet again
Words listen to me when no one else wants to
Words speaks to me in a way no one else can

Sometimes my words scroll across my monitor
To let me say what I want to say
Sometimes I resort to pen and paper,
To express my words in some other way

It sometimes scares me to the core, being so beholden to such
I’m scared of being pushed away, I care for my words so much

Yes, I cater to word’s selfish lusts
It’s a call I’ll always heed
Words give off a satisfaction
That’s almost carnal in need

But lately my words are not happy
With the scratch of the mighty pen
There’s this new desire to be heard
And it’s a most frightening yen

Paper no longer holds them, my words have something to say
But in the excitement to be heard, my words get in their own way

I risk the bleat of my vocals failing
Changing the meanings I devise
Yes, my words on paper are lovely
My words from my voice are otherwise

But words have trusted me all this time
In the handling of its care
Spoken word is the natural evolution
If only I take up the dare

So, I put my trust in my words, as it puts in me alike
I take a prayer and a breath and step up to this mic


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dVerse Poets Pub | Poetics: Take a risk!

Tricia at dVerse challenges us to explore the theme of risk. Whether it is tackling difficult subjects or laying bare a personal struggle in vivid detail, exploring a new writing form that you may find “risky” or unconventional; perhaps the risk we take falling in love.

Write on any topic as long the word “risk” is used,

In Flagrante Delicto

Secret lovers

Whispering
Sweet nothings

That scream
Bitter everything
To wound the one
Who bears witness
To now erstwhile secret

For no armor can protect
The heart wound in love
From the cruelty
Of that which it loves

But loves it not in return


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dVerse Poets Pub | Quadrille #128: What’s in a word?

At dVerse, Lillian tends bar and wants to know What’s in a word? And what’s the word for this challenge: wound. She makes our Quadrille poem a bit tougher by challenging us to include the word twice – using both meanings / pronunciations of the homographic pair.

Whether we use the word once or twice in the body of the poem, the poem must be exactly 44 words in length – not including the title.