mists swirling over a fen,
sips of wine, river wind, and spray
peace with no regret,
the touch of lost ones she dreams,
may gentle cheer come here
where she dwells trapped by disease
in this shrinking unkind world
soon to let her go.
For dVerse Monday our quadrille must include some version of the word ‘cheer’.
Once there was a girl who loved to watch her father light his pipe. One morning when her parents were still in bed she climbed the kitchen counter and took matches from the top cupboard. She burned a hole in her shirt.
I once wondered how humans learned to make fire. Forest rangers are probably not amazed. They know about cycles of growth, decay, flame, ash. Early man saw burning bushes.
Folks escaping wildfires know
about scorched breath,
that fire melts, turns all to dust.
How tragic that, over the centuries,
flames that warmed us,
lit our cabins, cooked our food
burned fuel in engines,
empowered us to multiply, travel vast distances at unimagined speeds, clear acres of land and run factories
are slowly cooking the planet.
For dVerse Tuesday Poetics: Fire up that Creativity
Waiting for her to wake up from an afternoon nap, I think of the small thing I need to mention when she wakes up. I move quietly in the kitchen. The cupboard bangs and I flinch with regret, but her slumber is undisturbed and Bentley continues to lick his paws. I sigh with relief.
grey dampness chills
my grip on this metal pen
warmed by silence
For dVerse Haibun Monday: Waiting
To blame is to disown. My cereal curdles as California wildfires turn homes to ash and, yet again, power trumps empathy and expertise. The vitriol and forest management tales emanating from Washington threaten to spoil my breakfast.
the President’s fire fighting
New York Times:
Trump Says California Can Learn From Finland on Fires. Is He Right?
In response to dVerse Poets Pub Monday quadrille prompt (‘spoil’) I have written this 44-word haibun.
Closing one eye
I am not winking
I am blinded by sunlight
Posing on one leg
I am not avian
I am practicing yoga
Singing the blues
I am not downhearted
I am indigo
Closing both eyes
I am not tired
I am listening
The Monday afternoon dVerse challenge from WhimsyGizmo is to write a quadrille (44-word poem) using the word “wink”.
Early autumn is gone,
dried leaves scattered,
marigolds dead from frost,
yet, Sun sparkles ochre colours,
pulses from behind grey clouds,
at night, waxing Moon lingers low,
two matches striking,
begging sparks of happiness
from cold bones who mourn
that what has been departs.
A quadrille (a 44-word poem) for dVerse Poets Pub using the word ‘early’.
Autumn leaves scatter on the sidewalk a block from home
Back from a first day of school inhaling musty maple
Cool breeze, long sleeves, polished shoes and a flutter of news
Days of firsts dangling fresh books, a new teacher and friends
Etched in memory, each September of slanting light
Fuel for a spirit treading toward dark December nights.
Lillian at dVerse challenged us to write an ‘Alphabet Sestet’, a six-line poem using any consecutive series of alphabet letters to commence each line. I went with ABCDEF.