Tag Archives: Poetry

Big Montana Sky

Posted on by
17


As I lay on my duster, watching the big Montana sky
Like I have so many nights before, watching the time carve by
I know that this cattle drive, was worth all the time of the run
But on nights likes these, no nights like these are never any fun

The ambiance of a crystal clear night, I cannot deny
As I lay on my duster, watching the big Montana sky
But all my thoughts now turn to you, as I watch the campfire
Each flame a flimsy copy, of you when filled with desire

Those jolts of emerald flashes, which herald your fluid moods
How well I’ve learned to read them, the bad, the ugly  and the good
As I lay on my duster, watching the big Montana sky
My longing for your touch is so deep, I damn well want to cry

I squeak out a prayer to the heavens, that you still feel the same
Upon my return to you, I shall ask you to share my name
In the meantime, the thoughts of your dew soft skin just get me by
As I lay on my duster, watching the big Montana sky

<>==========<>==========<>

Welcome students! – Today’s form is the Quartern.

The quatern is yet another French form. It consists of four stanzas of four lines, or sixteen total lines. The quatern is a syllabic form, meaning that there are a required number of syllables per line. Traditionally there are eight (8) syllables per line (or tetrameter, to those who want to get all technical), but it does NOT have to be iambic!!  (Yes, I took very creative license by using fifteen syllables in  my example above.)

The other trait of the quatern is that there is a repeating refrain, similar to a kyrielle. In this case, the refrain is repeated one line lower in the poem in each stanza until in the fourth stanza it’s the fourth line, like below…

Line 1 (refrain)
Line 2
Line 3
Line 4

Line 5
Line 1 again (Line 6)
Line 7
Line 8

Line 9
Line 10
Line 1 again (Line 11)
Line 12

Line 13
Line 14
Line 15
Line 1 again (Line 16)

<>==========<>==========<>

dVerse Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 70

My Than-ks Bauk To You

Posted on by
28

I know some curse
This perverse form
dVerse I smile.

For all the while
Poets style, words
Beguile, they do!

Sweet Pub ‘tis true
My thanks due, yes
To you in verse.

<>==========<>==========<>

Because I just know the widget will expire if I try to wait until much later to post this, I do so now.  My sincere thanks to all of you who attempted this week’s Form For All the Than Bauk.  I have enjoyed these past two days reading all the fun, poignant, dark, wonderful and deliciously interesting takes on the form.

dVerse Poets Pub | Form For All – Than Bauk

Arlington

Posted on by
14

I walk the rows of the garden
Whispering voices the only sound
Passing by the stark white blooms
Rising from the hallowed ground

And I gaze upon all the blossoms
Row upon row to infinity unknown
Fingers lightly touch this newest bloom
Here in the garden, garden of stone

Each bloom marking lives young and old
Lives that eventually have stilled
Some blooms have seen many an age
Some are as fresh this grave just tilled

A flag waves softly in the wind
Today at half-mast flown
Standing for the one who no longer can
Here in the garden, garden of stone

Scattered about these many blooms
Are others who are here like me
Honoring their own seeds fallen
Into these blooms for eternity

Hand slanted to brow, we are all together
Hand held over heart, yet each all alone
In laughter and tears and memories
Here in the garden, garden of stone

For they are children far too short
To appreciate their own youth
Their spirits grow old far too fast
To live and die with that cold truth

Thus mourning comes, as sure as dawn
In the 21 guns of honor shone
For we who are left behind still grieve
Here in the garden, garden of stone

Arlington Memorial Day

<>===========<>===========<>

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 69

Cycle

Posted on by
9

Gleam in His eye

A Memory
Ashes to Ashes
Longevity?

With blessings well aged
With blessings well saged

A many decade writer
Hopefully equal giver and receiver
Always a friend
And of course a Diva

At the beginning of my world-travels
Patient when a holiday light unravels

A Home Owner
An Amorous Wife
Luckily better at inciting passion
Sometimes the cause of strife

Professional at Work
Part-time Jerk

Occasional Fighter
Mother of another
Mother
Poetess

A Daughter
Alive
Me

Gleam in His eye

<>==========<>==========<>

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Poetics: Self-Portrait

Psyche’s Lament

Posted on by
8

While yet I find you waiting in my dreams
It’s though we’re not meant for the light of day
The sunlight hides your face from me it seems

I have no idea just what all this means
This haunt my subconscious has wont to play
While yet I find you waiting in my dreams

Your face so near yet blinded by moonbeams
Your face so gone when lords of light hold sway
The sunlight hides your face from me it seems

A hapless pawn I am in these grand schemes
You hide at the first hint of sun’s display
While yet I find you waiting in my dreams

Or do you have a hand in these extremes
These rules I have no choice but to obey
The sunlight hides your face from me it seems

You’re here at Nox’s whims but yet it deems
That Eos equally keeps you at bay
The sunlight hides your face from me it seems
While yet I find you waiting in my dreams

====================

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Form for All: Physics and the Art of the Villanelle

Perfect

Posted on by
7

Dawn the first light to sparkle on the water

Breaking apart the morning mist
Drying dew drops that gather in the night
Doing their part to add to the mystique
They land on top of the fine fronds
Of the snowy milkweeds
Turning them into small diamond bursts
In search of the rising sunlight

For three days I’ve tried to capture this
For three days I’ve failed miserably
Technical and yes, user difficulties
But today, today feels like the day I won’t blow it
Still, I pull out my rabbit’s foot and give it a smooch
Then my Nikon to check the aperture settings

And with one last kiss, I snap the shot…perfect!

<>==========<>==========<>

Hyde Park Poets Rally Week 75

The Serenade

Posted on by
4

Joann Bishop - The Guitarist

In the courtyard with his guitar
On a warm and starry spring night
Standing near the glow of lamplight
And sings of love so near, so far

He sings of longing as a scar
A deep wound of internal bleed
A wound of perpetual need
Soft chords wrapped tight in notes blue
A testament his heart is true
Love eternal in every deed

She knows it’s her he’s singing to
She hears each note that bear his pains
Within the blood of her own veins
His longing sears her through and through

For it’s a love long overdue
She’s never known the like before
As it’s his heart that makes hers soar
His tender words gently hold sway
Her heart she’ll give to him always
Lets him and love into her door

<>==========<>==========<>

dVerse ~ Poets Pub |  OpenLinkNight Week 67

This Whispering Place

Posted on by
6

So it has been for many of my years
My dreams do stage all my hopes and my fears

Dreams that come to me when it’s not quite day
Or in the moments before night holds sway

A gale force of winter, a zephyr of spring
Hard as I try, their memory won’t cling
The dreams are but a moment, a most fleeting thing

Leaving just an impression of their core
Hints warning or guidance no less no more

As a true rule of thumb it is not much
But I’ve learned lessons on not heeding such

Never truly day, never truly night
This whispering place between dark and light
So clearly seen to me, but not within my sight

<>==========<>==========<>

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 66

Time Drawing Near

Posted on by
6

‘Aladdin’ and ‘The Little Mermaid’ no longer hold a charm
‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ have lost their sway
The sound of glass breaking, holds not the same alarm
When I could conceive a multitude of frights just yesterday

Macaroni and glitter artwork, stuff that used to be bane
Along with a medal made of paper, in the scrapbook
A box with a bundle of model trains and cars and planes
Memories past, that bellow for a just another look

Emphasizing the second syllable of the word every
The volcano project that was quite a bit unstable
The melted chocolate cookie smile used to distract me
From the crumbly mess left on the kitchen table

The children who couldn’t fib, looking me in my eyes
The kids I couldn’t trust not to burn the toast
The brats who threw a party and told straight-faced lies
When confronted with evidence of their being such gallant hosts

The con-men who know ‘Please mother?’ from ‘Mommy PUH-LEEZE??’
The house slaves with laundry finished and dinner cooked, ready to serve
The hooligans who greet me at the door when I take too long fumbling with my keys
The young men who offer the aspirin, sensing I’ve had a day that tested my nerves

These days I find myself staring a little longer at their faces
And the tones of their voices, to my memory, I try hard to adhere
Some mother’s instinct I suppose, preparing for empty spaces
That once remote chance of their leaving, now drawing near
====================

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 65

Alone Again

Posted on by
7

 

Her auburn curls were once piled high
Now they hang limply around her cherub face
And no one hears her quiet sigh
She’s just the wallflower, sitting in her usual space

Eyes focused on one across the room, looking awkward
At he who brought her here saying she looked so very nice
She’s since learned that he has won the ‘pig date’ award
Now hanging with the pretty ones, he hasn’t looked twice

It’s a wonderful night for a moon dance
The pleasant thought when she first awoke
So cruelly hoist on their antagonizing lance
Yes, she’s once again the butt of the joke

The deep resignations in her sighs
Belie the tears that sting her eyes

She takes a moment to gather her soul
All the million tiny pieces that shattered
Once again beyond her control
Not that she thinks it ever mattered

Locked in the bathroom, it’s her only refuge
It’s the only peace that she can find
Where she doesn’t feel like somebody’s stooge
The only place she can ease her mind

At times she thinks she hears the means to her end
And knows she’s far too close to its soothing call
It is all she’s got, to not let herself descend
Beyond the point where she feels nothing at all

Some days she fights to keep trying
Some days she feels more like dying

So numbed by the hurt that seems her fate
Against the odds, she stopped defying
The undue stress of those who berate
Each day it is less she finds herself crying

The personification of a silent scream
A switch is flipped with that last tear
As though awakening verse from dream
She emerges soul empty of all once held dear

Back to sitting quietly on the folding chair
Every pleat of silk carefully folded around her knees
But no one really knows or cares that she’s there
Behind thick lens her eyes stopped screaming silent pleas

For it is all such a familiar refrain
In a crowded room she’s all alone again

<>==========<>==========<>

dVerse Poets Pub ~ OpenLinkNight | Week 64