Winter unzips the sun unfurls spring
buds swell and spill secrets in time
exquisite intricacy of leaf and blossom
Where lives unfold by concrete paths in airless
rooms, traffic zipping past steel towers
souls decipher timeless arts of joy and life
A quadrille in response to Quadrille 54: Zip it! at dVerse
The photo is from Pixabay.com under ‘universe’.
Have you ever
someone else’s nightmare?
You know you have
raw egg is dribbling
down your face
a sticky mess
that defies a quick wipe
what to do
but allow the slime to slide
as you avoid all frying pans….
A quadrille (poem of 44 words) for dVerse including the word ‘egg’.
we are oak, our roots travel deep, our leaves rustle winds
we are birds, we surf the clouds, we dive far below
we are fish, we rule the ocean, we leap to the sun
we are seeds released by fire, born to rise again
A quadrille for dVerse…a poem of 44 words…this week the challenge is to include ‘fire’.
Drink hot soup tomato red
this February night.
Burn a candle flame.
Winter blood still
bathes chilled joints.
Wear wool to hug the skin,
Breathe to clear dry lungs.
We are defrosting,
departing from winter hibernation.
Spring barely has begun.
A message from 44º North, 76º West for dVerse Poet’s Pub. We are quadrilling “burn” tonight.
Drink to me with your eyes
I will be yours
but at your peril
My sea is vast.
Pools of magic fish
and lost treasures
dazzle with mystery.
My inner confusions
flash illusion yet
my depths are true,
Remember the song: “Drink to me only with thine eyes?” The dVerse Tuesday Poetics invitation to write poems about drinking reminded me of this opening phrase and then I wrote a quadrille.
© 2018 Ontheland
There was a day when a poem knew what it was
It went for a walk, people would nod
“Yes, a poem” they would say
Since Emily’s time, writers broke traditions
A poem walked proudly but some people said:
“Is this really a poem?”
I poemed this in response to dVerse’s quadrille challenge: “Poem one for me”.
Can I write a poem
stirring dull residues
of wounds and tears
that clog my spirit?
I could bounce away
would I not still feel empty?
Perhaps I will stay,
sip cold coffee,
and move my pen.
A poem of exactly 44 words (a ‘quadrille’) for dVerse Poets Pub using the word ‘bounce’. Perhaps not a bouncy take on bounce, but more writing will get me bouncing again.