Tag Archives: Poetry

Hunter

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the hunter, alone
silent in the snowy copse
his heartbeat heard strong
a loud thumping from within
as his prey is spied

this day the elusive doe
in his sights stands still
graceful neck arched to the sun
breath misting the air

In a swiftness, eyes meet eyes
before frantic bolt

His shots in the air ring loud
rumbling the earth
setting all fauna in fear
of much more than him

his tale to be told come spring
sole consolation
as snow in numbers gather
too close for him to outrun
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dVerse has us Meeting the Bar by trying our hands at writing Choka, an unrhymed poem alternating five and seven syllables that end with an extra seven-syllable line. You can use the 17 or 19 onji (syllable) style.  It can be any number of lines that you choose.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Meeting the Bar~ the Choka

I Think of Spring

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A subtle intangible thing
These fallen leaves how they array
In autumn leaves I think of spring

Yellowed hues to the grounds cling
Bringing to thought vernal displays
A subtle intangible thing

I find my heart has taken wing
On how new blooms of crocus sway
In autumn leaves I think of spring

My eyes spy fall’s warm coloring
My soul denies thoughts of decay
A subtle intangible thing

A whim of my own soul’s choosing
This feeling does not go away
In autumn leaves I think of spring

I feel first hints of winter’s sting
Yet smile as I go on my way
A subtle intangible thing
In autumn leaves I think of spring

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For the first dVerse Poetics of 2017, Mish offers us an array of art and asks us to use one as inspiration of  New Beginnings. My chosen image brought to mind the bright yellow of daffodils in spring. Spring is new beginnings in its own way, so that’s where my muse went in the form of a villanelle.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Poetics ~ New Beginnings 

Wordle #136 : As Fine As Brittle

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After a spell of

Too many leavings

The robust soul ,

Where joy once flourished,

Has since fizzled

Into nights fetal-curled

In piteous tears.

A melody born of

A now insular life

Headlights

A cryophilic heart

One as fine,

Yet as brittle as china

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Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie – Wordle #136 “January 2nd, 2016”
Leavings, Insular, Cryophilic, Melody, Radio, Fetal, Pity, China, Headlights, Promontory, Spell, Fizzle

Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem. The words can appear in an alternate form, in any order that you like.

dVerse Quadrilee #23 : Curl
The rules are easy. Write a Quadrille (a poem of exactly 44 words, not including the title), using the word curl in any form.

Photo Challenge #145: Just A Little Tighter

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– Painful by Natalia Drepina

– Painful by Natalia Drepina

Holding onto hope
What it once felt like
I wrap it just a little tighter
But it’s a slippery rope
Trying to cope

With so many sins acquired
Every time I remember
I wrap it just a little tighter
Around the sorrows in which I’m mired
But my hands are getting tired

My soul the garrote
Sometimes untangling
I wrap it just a little tighter
Around my throat
In desire of Charon’s boat

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Today at  MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge #145 we are prompted to use above image as inspiration for a poem or short story. This is what came to me.

Beaned

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hello_darkness

The bean’s the scene, potency gleaned
It’s the dark daily grind by far, har- har!
A buck’s a deer, yet scales appear,
What do mermaids have to do with stars?

Now I do insist on non-instant
For getting into hot water is tough
And granted thirty will leave me quite quirky
But a venti is never enough.

It’s derision, this double vision
To work uphold, I must first upend
It’s a blip, a drip, a tip, a sip
Hello darkness my old friend!
starbucks-logo

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Hmmm, maybe I do need more coffee…

dverse
dVerse Poet’s Pub – Open Link Night # 186

In Step

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1! 2! 3! 4! 5! 6! 7! 8!
1! 2! 3! 4! 5! 6! 7! 8!

Her booted stilettoes are a forte staccato on the polished wood
Counter point to the allegro of the snapping castanets in her hands

1-2-3-4,
1-2-3-4,

Kitten heeled pumps are andante, in the diminuendo chords
Arms ebb and flow evoking waves, foliage that caters to a wind’s bend

1, 2, 3,

1, 2, 3

While soft soled flats give a dolce presence to the calando of the tune
Her fingers doloroso wiping imagined tears in the final longa before applause

1 and 2 and

Bare toes touch floor at last

Finite

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At Real Toads I am given inspiration to write a poem on shoes for Susi.

While at dVerse I Meet the Bar by giving some elements of music for Victoria.

I Am Ready

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A million candles burning for the love that never came
I can’t say much has happened since
If you are the dealer, let me out of the game
If you want a partner, take my hand
If it be your will
I’d crawl to you baby and I’d fall at your feet
You want it darker

I am ready

Vilified, crucified, in the human frame
I swear it happened just like this
If you are the healer, I’m broken and lame
If you want another kind of love
I shall abide until
I’d howl at your beauty like a dog in heat
I’m your man

I am ready

Magnified, sanctified, be thy holy name
A sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
If thine is the glory, mine must be the shame
If you want to take me for a ride
Let your mercy spill
I’d claw at your heart, and I’d tear at your sheet
with nothing on my tongue but hallelujah

I am ready

You want it darker
I’m your man
With nothing on my tongue but hallelujah

I am ready

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At dVerse Bryan takes honored guest turn tending the pub and challenges us to to give our best “cover” a poem by a poet whom you admire.
In tribute to a great poet who passed away earlier this month, with the sole exception of the I am ready refrain, all lines are from the following songs of Leonard Cohen: You Want It Darker – I’m Your Man – Hallelujah – If It Be Your Will – Closing Time

dverse

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Poetics– Covers with Bryan

And I Know…

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I hear his footsteps coming towards me and I know…
The words he is saying
The rules he is laying down
The fears I am betraying

…it’s not right

I see him in the dark before me and I know…
She does not make a sound
As his fist takes its first pound
And knocks me to the ground

…it’s not right

I smell him as he lowers towards me and I know…
This time won’t be because of drink
Inside myself I start to slink
I must go where I cannot think

…it’s not right

I feel his arms around me and I know…
How many cracks are in the ceiling above
Not to ever resist or push becomes shove
Only open my mouth for the depth of his love

…it’s not right

I taste more than tears on me and I know…
All the lies I’ll contrive
The pleasure he derives
In taunting “Why you still alive?”

…it’s not right

My senses overload when he leaves and I know…
When a fourteen-year-old is no longer sad
Cannot be so bothered to be mad
When ordered to coo “Goodnight Dad”

…it’s not right

Where The Buffalo Still Roam

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For centuries the sun and moon have risen
here over the horizon of rolling hills
in this home where the buffalo still roam.

In the centuries past, our forefathers were forced here.
Here where the land, and our forefathers, were thought
never to be needed, wanted and preferably seen again.
Giving away that which was never owned by them to begin with
in this home where the buffalo still roam.

In the centuries hence, we dried our tears and made this land ours.
We’ve lived and died here. And in spite of it all, thrived here.
Keeping that which is sacred – sacred,
in this home where the buffalo still roam.

In this century now, the smooth grassy curves of the horizon
are broken by the sharp lines of a civilization, vying to creep in.
Exhausting what is theirs now profanely vie to disrespect what is ours
in this home where the buffalo still roam.

This is our sacred, because it is not so for them does not belie it,
in this home where the buffalo still roam.

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Inspired by the buffalo sighting at the Standing Rock Dakota Access Pipeline Protests last week.