Suppressing a desire
For centuries commuted
Ferried about
Twixt the rage
And the frustration
Via the complication
Of our blackness unheard and unseen
Except through
Crosshairs white and blue
Until control held sage
With fury slips out
Only to be persecuted
For the fire
Tonight at dVerse Linda challenges us to write a Quadrille, is a poetic form created here at dVerse, a poem of exactly 44 words (not counting the title) and including this challenge’s prompt word: SLIP
Given sweet release, on a sultry night One hears the morning bird’s song, I close my eyes and breathe deep It bans the darkness, heeding ganja’s call Sleep a hazy memory, in the aromatic flush Bright music waking the soul, all coherent thinking lost
<>==========<>
Tonight on dVerse Poets Pub Mish challenges us to flush things out in a quadrille – a poem of exactly 44 words not including the title. One of those 44 words must be the prompt – flush..
As I worked this out I realized I was on the path to creating a Super Tanka, so I just went with Muse and combined both. And being that today is 4/20 my mind naturally went to ganja’s call…
This is the only true terror to be
The blinking cursor that moves not one space
Or those ruled lines that scream to be penned on
A page that’s blank, while pen is full scares me
Thoughts clash around in ambiguity
Those wisps of words, so close within my grasp
Yet I cannot make heads nor tails of it
This is the only true terror to be
Sometimes mere scribbles are all that I see
But at least there is hope for something more
Empty eight by elevens have no chance
A page that’s blank, while pen is full scares me
This is the only true terror to be
For someone whose whole life depends on words
A page that’s blank, while pen is full scares me
<>==========<>
And I don’t want the world to see me Cause I don’t think that they’d understand When everything’s made to be broken I just want you to know who I am “Iris” by the Goo-Goo Dolls / “City of Angels” Soundtrack
Some question my sanity year after year That I’ m not quite right is abundantly clear Stepping in and out of darkened lucidity The voices in my head are mostly a minor din But that yellow dress you wore that day did me in It was the red cape to the bull of my insanity And the voice gained control was full of hate As you stepped to me smiling sealing your fate For my mood was downright ugly And I don’t want the world to see me
I don’t deny what I’ve done to some women is sick But you weren’t like those yacht girls who fall so quick All their smiling as they think I’m at their command They dangle promises of a young love so sweet But it’s me holding their hearts, feeling their heat And then ripping it from them with my bare hand But you, you disregard all concepts of my deceiving My inner voices wondering why aren’t you leaving Never having had an experience like this firsthand ‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
False yore flows from my cruel lips with ease Yards of lies with an inch of truth to please The truth a means of passage, merely a token So you yawn in my face, knowing it’s unwise And yet you laugh seeing the truth in all the lies Behind every filthy word I’ve ever spoken From you the truth shines bright and sure The lightness of your heart, ywis so pure But can I believe your heart is solid – oaken? When everything’s made to be broken
And so you survived more than just the night Even knowing down deep I may never be right For goodness knows I really didn’t give a damn If you drowned in all the tears you yield Brought on by all these damn fears I field ‘Cause you were never part of the program But you’re still here and nothing denies How I yearn for the feel of your light in my eyes But mine are the eyes of a tragedy ma’am I just want you to know who I am
<>========<> One of my favorite poetry forms: a Glosa.
On Monday Linda asked us to create a little magic in quadrille – a poem of exactly 44 words, not including the title using the word of the day: magic.
On Tuesday for Poetics Mish asks us to contemplate the following by Mizuta Masahide:
“Barn’s burnt down, now I can see the moon.”
Use it as inspiration to note experiences of our own personal insight or enlightenment and pen a poem.
I am minded through these trying times that just because we can’t always see the joy in life, does not mean it’s not there waiting to be noticed again for those who remember to look.
It’s not the breadth of his shoulders Or the warmness of his gut It’s not the stride of his long legs, That oh so proud strut
It’s not the coin of his bank Saved in bunches To cope with any fallout From rainy-day punches
Nor is it being held in his strong arms, A niche for me made so dear It is his deep rumble of sweet nothings Whispering everything in my ear
<>==========<> Tonight at dVerse, Björn challenges us to Listen to Lists. Be creative, use any type of list and then write a poem from that list. Let it grow, and be inspired by rhymes and metaphors.
I did not want that I should fall in love For it seemed Fate had better plans for me It was a bother not mine to speak of I did not think I could fall in a love Hard as the bedrock yet soft as a glove That such love could be returned you see But now I know I have fallen in love For it seemed Fate had better plans for me
<>==========<> Today on dVerse Poet’s Pub Frank challenges to write a triolet or a poem that closely resembles a triolet.
So, what is a triolet? A triolet’s characteristics are the following.
<>==========<>
Today at dVerse Kim wants us to go WILD with our Quadrille, a poem of exactly 44 words, not including the title. The poem must include the word wild. My muse went a little silly with it.
Your tears Glistened Shone like diamonds That streamed your face In silver lines They were balm Elixir Hot and heavy Salty and yet so wet Just like you An ambrosia of Your pain And your arousal Tasted In a kiss yielded From your lips
<>==========<> Tonight at dVerse Dee (whimsygizmo) asks us to kiss off a quadrille, a poem of exactly 44 words, not including the title, and use some form of the word kiss.
Begun with ease This weekend sailed In flow and streams Of marathon drifts Plots news to us
A sibling with fringe In boredom spoke free Thus spoiled our binge With a cuss
My punch’s sting With cheers Still rings I don’t regret The fuss
<>==========<>
A little silly fiction that may become reality in many homes in the U.S. come this holiday weekend.
Written for:
The Sunday Whirl – Wordle 378 Regret, News, Binge, Stream, Ease, Sail, Flow, Drift, Sting, Free, Cheer, Fringe Use at least ten of the words in a poem or short story.
dVerse ~Poets Pub | Quadrille Monday – Spoiler Alert Lillian invites us to write a Quadrille –is a poem with exactly 44 words, not counting the title– using the word spoil, or a form thereof, in the poem itself, not the title.
Regret, News, Binge, Stream, Ease, Sail, Flow, Drift, Sting, Free, Cheer, Fringe
Raivenne-lations 