Punching Age

It started at one,

strong and sure

The promise of more

its lure

Birthday punches are a rite it’s true

But as they wore on, so did you

I took its weak finish

with a laughing smirk

Forgot I was 59

didn’t you, jerk?


dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Quadrille #160: Poems that Pack a Punch

dVerse Poets Pub graphic
dVerse ~ Poets Pub

Yesterday on Quadrille Monday, De Jackson, aka WhimsyGizmo, got a little punch drunk at the bar and invited us to punch out quadrille. Yesterday was my birthday. My bestfiend, not a misspell – who had the good sense to be born exactly a year later, and I were joking about the childhood silliness of delivering birthday wishes via punches on the arm. One punch-wish for each year, sometimes the token punches are delivered gently, sometimes not. Because I am blessed to age like fine wine, I do not look my years. Unless a boxer, I imagine most would begin to tire before reaching my current vintage and thus today’s silly quadrille.

Falling into Spring

Fall comes fast and furious in ochre and goldenrod jewels that seeming shoved aside the abundant verdant hues of summer. For all its warm beauty I am cognizant of the oncoming days when grayed twisted bodies, shrouded in mounds of white fluff, exchange its colorful jewels for icy diamonds that drip from limbs that will scratch at the too cold skies of winter.

As I kneel in one of the garden beds, the loss of warmth and color sadden me. It’s peaty scent, petrichor after the last thunderstorm momentarily bely the seasons in my mind. I am reminded after winter comes spring and the better days that then follow. Pruning, turning over earth in preparation I remind myself I’d like, too, to plant the sweet alyssum that smells like honey and peace. Thus I bury my autumn doldrums in thoughts of spring for now.


dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Prosery: When it comes to Katherine Riegel

dVerse Poets Pub graphic
dVerse ~ Poets Pub

Sanaa (aka adashofsunny) would like for us to write a Prose piece which includes the line:

“I’d like, too, to plant the sweet alyssum that smells like honey and peace.” from the poem, “What I would like to grow in my Garden.” by Katherine Riegel.

Write a piece of flash fiction or other prose up of up to or exactly 144 words,
Including the given line from the poem.

Morning Scent

The fresh scent of lawn anywhere
Can sometimes take me there
Magnolia wafting on morning
breeze
Even if I cannot see the trees
Yes, sometimes a hint of sweat
Remembrances of you beget
The mourning in memory spurred
When into earth you were interred


dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Quadrille #158: Morning Has Broken
dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Poetics: A World of Common Scents

dVerse Poets Pub graphic
dVerse ~ Poets Pub

Yesterday on Quadrille Monday Linda Lee invites to put our best morning forward in a quadrille.

A Quadrille is simply a poem of 44 words, excluding the title. It can be in any form, rhymed or unrhymed, metered, or unmetered. You MUST use the word “morning” in your poem.

Today dVerse guest host Jo invites us to A World of Common Scents and challenges us to write a poem of scents.

Linda’s “morning has broken” struck at Melpomene who cruelly reminds pleasant scents do not always pleasant memories make.

To Sleep

Then you laid me down to sleep

In cotton coddled

For sweet dreams ‘til my eyes open

Thus days and nights wrap round the world

‘Till now I lay you down to sleep

In linens layered

But on your eyes I place a token


dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Quadrille #156

dVerse Poets Pub graphic
dVerse ~ Poets Pub

Tonight Mish hosts at the pub and wants us to “wrap” things up in a quadrille.

A Quadrille is simply a poem of 44 words, excluding the title. It can be in any form, rhymed or unrhymed, metered, or unmetered. You MUST use the word “wrap”, or some form of the word, in your poem.

Amicable

Faces
To sun
It’s over, done
We cheer and root
Grabbing all the Absolute

Long
We’ve waited
How we’ve anticipated
For this fine date
All the ways we’d celebrate

The
Finalized papers
Turn to vapors
All troubles we carried
Much better friends than married


dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Quadrille #155—Let’s Celebrate

dVerse Poets Pub graphic
dVerse ~ Poets Pub

Merril hosts at dVerse and wants us to “celebrate” in a quadrille.

Some couples do celebrate their divorce amicably.

A Quadrille is simply a poem of 44 words, excluding the title. It can be in any form, rhymed or unrhymed, metered, or unmetered. You MUST use the word “celebrate”, or some form of the word, in your poem.

Memento Moirai

From Clotho’s components
All those moments

This life is made, with intangible string
My traits and gait by Fate compiled
A certain butterfly is already on the wing
I emerge from the cocoon voicing the wild

Thread in Lachesis clime
Will be lost in time

When born the days ahead seem vast
Each stich becomes a memory vapor
Yet all too soon those years are past
I voice them all, on pixels, on paper

Of Atropos’ domain
Like tears in rain

I must go in for the fog is rising
My words will speak for me beyond the snuff
Always verbally enterprising
Last words are for fools who haven’t said enough


dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Poetics: words of departure

dVerse Poets Pub graphic
dVerse ~ Poets Pub

Laura Bloomsbury tends the bar and invites us to write a “deathbed,” poem with the inclusion of a quote from a selection provided. Typical of Muse – using just “a” quote wasn’t an option.

The following are in my take on the prompt where Fate/Moira may control my body but my voice will live on.

“All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain”
-Roy Batty, Blade Runner
“A certain butterfly is already on the wing.”
-Vladimir Nabokov
“I must go in for the fog is rising”
-Emily Dickinson
“Last words are for fools who haven’t said enough.”
-Karl Marx

Luna Sees

They sit on the roof drinking in the sight
Of diamonds twinkling in the witching hour
Alone at last on this shortest night
A blanket is beneath them, but heat scours

Tar and flowers scent this roof top tower
Fingers follow trails on skin damp with sweat
Where light cotton clothes have little power
And their slow loss causes no one to fret

Cool jazz plays on an old cassette
As the solstice weaves its most magic ways
Soft curls are set free from its shell barrette
As I softly smile on their loving plays

Throes of passion begins, they close their eyes
And breezes carry away their heightened sighs


dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Poetics: Sun, Sand, Storms, and Celebrations: Summer Ekphrastic

dVerse Poets Pub graphic
dVerse ~ Poets Pub

Though it’s not technically summer (yet), here in the northern hemisphere, we’ve already had a few scorching days. Merrill who is tending the pub tonight, entices us to pick from a selection of paintings evoking a variety styles and summer themes to write a summer ekphrastic poem inspired by what you see or feel.

I chose: “Tar Beach 2” Quilt 1990
by Faith Ringgold, American, born 1930. Produced at The Fabric Workshop and Museum, Philadelphia, founded 1977 Philadelphia Museum of Art. I can’t upload it, but you can see it here.

Before I even clicked on the link to view it, the title alone took me back to the days of rooftop barbeques, nighttime parties and things that happened in the late-late-late nights that only the moon sees.

First Night

Less our doubts will be,
Stowed away with trouble.
Some sweet peace to sleep with.

In this our first night to be,
Holding love for life.

Time under this moon;
Light on our twining bodies, so good.
Will this first night never to end!


dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Compound me a Sleepy Quadrille night!

dVerse Poets Pub graphic
dVerse ~ Poets Pub

I pull a double dVerse duty swinging two prompts in one write:

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Quadrille night! Sleepy times.

First Sarah (sarahsouthwest) invited us to write a sleepy little quadrille. A quadrille, is simply a poem of 44 words, excluding the title. It can be in any form, rhymed or unrhymed, metered, or unmetered. You MUST use the word “sleep” or some form of the word in your poem.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Poetics: Compound me!

Next Lillian insists we regale her a poem using at least one compound word from a list provided.

The catch being to split the word over.
Achieving its two components; yet keep it together. (<– see what I did there)

Naturally, does Muse just use one compound word in a poem? Noooooo…. Let’s make every confounded end/start line be compounded – yeah! Oh!, and still make a quadrille – right!

Tea with Florence the Monarch

They sounded kind and full of loves
In the pleasant weather
Goblin Market – Christina Rosetti

Why swaddled in the rolling fog
his ragged chemise color of bog
The goblin worm had filled me with fright
Dare I show upon first light,
Somehow, I knew it wasn’t right
So ear against the wall I shove
To hear the trumpet of new voices
In offer of different choices
Not the nightmares feared of
They sounded kind and full of loves

Thus, I the ignored the fiend’s masquerade
Not a moment more to be waylaid
I am a monarch, I was ready
And chrysalis pieces flow and eddy
On the breeze like confetti
Among the violet hued heather
As I emerge from my hidey-hole
In ochre gown mirrored in trim of coal
With only the sky as tether
In the pleasant weather

Not the monarch you had in mind, I know


dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Poetics – Colour me poetry

dVerse Poets Pub graphic
dVerse ~ Poets Pub


Tonight at the pub, Sarah tends bar for this session of Poetics.

Inspired by the intriguing names of paint samples, we are prompted to choose one of the below paint names and use it as the inspiration for a poem:

Trumpet, Tea with Florence, Chemise, Confetti, Goblin, Mirror, Rolling fog, First light, Hidey hole, Masquerade

We are further challenged to incorporate as many of the words as we can and to have fun.

Oh, that was said to the wrong person. It is my natural wont when see a list of options with a prompt to select one to try to use them all. And because I am that gal, I do so in one of my favorite poetry forms, a glosa. Using two lines of Goblin Market by Christina Rosetti to tell this 1st person tale of a butterfly’s beginnings.

Your Voice

In sound’s more gentle graces

Many failed with noises stifled, stark

But you’re a jaguar in a cello

Your voice sultry, dangerous, dark

And oh, how it paces

My heart to quaken, quivering

For it’s only you, sweet fellow

Who leaves me shaken, shivering


dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Quadrille #144: Shivering!

dVerse Poets Pub graphic
dVerse ~ Poets Pub

Tonight at the pub, Merrill tends bar and gives us a shivering invite for a quadrille.

A quadrille, is simply a poem of 44 words, excluding the title. It can be in any form, rhymed or unrhymed, metered, or unmetered. You MUST use the word “shiver” or some form of the word in your poem.