Wild wind rained last night 

lashing remains of summer

golden leaves dangle

waiting for a gentle breeze

to shimmer late autumn days


©2017 Ontheland

In response to Robert Frost’s “October”:

 “O hushed October morning mild,

Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;

To-morrow’s wind, if it be wild,

Should waste them all.

The crows above the forest call.

To-morrow they may form and go.

O hushed October morning mild,

Begin the hours of this day slow,

Make the day seem to us less brief.

Hearts not averse to being beguiled, 

Beguile us in the way you know;

Release one leaf at break of day;

At noon release another leaf;

One from our trees, one far away;

Retard the sun with gentle mist;

Enchant the land with amethyst.

Slow, slow!

For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,

Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,

Whose clustered fruit must else be lost

For the grapes’ sake along the wall.”

(By Robert Frost; www.poets.org)

My tanka is inspired by Carpe Diem #1272 October (Robert Frost), an invitation to speak to the essence of Frost’s beautiful poem in haiku or tanka.


When morning comes

and light returns,

hope’s feathers may lie still

but hear the wisdom of a child or 

new leader with caring speech,

tromp through cool autumn woods 

or cradle a late seedling—

that feeling of aliveness

(they call it ‘hope’ )

may return


©2017 Ontheland

The new Quadrille word is ‘hope’. To find more poems using hope or hope-formed words, please check ‘Mister Linky’ at the prompt post.

evading denotation

(A ) 


not eliminating


looking for that —

that which cannot be named,

it tugs, 

itches, rumbles, 

oozes, clicks, grumbles,

sighs, flickers, etches,

tickles, brushes, stretches …

Evaded generalities

rarely escape




smears, stains

anchors, excavates 

hairy ropes descending,

fibrous starch swelling

to be to be eaten

launching from earth to light



spurts that which

belongs within 


spreads bleeds

firing bewildered 


massacre evil tragedy

terror not terror

guns controlled not controlled 

automatic semi conversion

why what why oh why

this incomprehensibility

named and unnameable


©2017 Ontheland

A recent dVerse Poetics prompt invites us to write poems that play with grammar rules. Paul offers an example from Gertrude Stein’s ‘Tender Buttons’.  I decided to experiment with reducing nouns and relying more on verbs and adverbs as suggested by Stein in her essay on Poetry and Grammar. Current events,  like nouns, are hard to evade.

Not comparable

I see orange 

pumpkins, crimson 

beets and wine

chrysanthemums, feel 

crisp autumn air,

but not 

in the hospital room, 

an oxygen machine

drones, an alert button 

droops helpless, near a

fig newton


the small plastic cup—

waiting for winter is 

not comparable

to witnessing a tender soul,

his long life fading away.


©2017 Ontheland


When entering a sapphire,

sip blue curaçao 

gaze at aquamarine 

night eyes

while humming “Am I blue?”,

In early summer

lounge under azure sky,


to wild indigo sea


lavender and wisteria,

singing your rhapsody

in sweet minor key.


©2017 Ontheland

In response to DVerse Tuesday….Lillian invited us to write a poem of any form including the name of our birthstone.


I glimpsed history

in a cinnamon bun.


cassia, tamale…

millennia murmur

of an evergreen bark

born in tropical lands,

tender quills

traded across oceans, deserts 

for Gods, monarchs and feasts

Today: a stick for hot cider, or brown powder in a spice jar.

©2017 Ontheland

This was a quadrille for dVerse using the word ‘spice’.  For cinnamon, Cinnamomum is the plant genus. Cassia and Tamale are two species names. The photos are offered for public use through Pixabay: cinnamon sticks and spice jars.