Indigo shadows hang soft and low
on the dance floor where lovers go
fingers linger, hearts in tune
lost in jazz and silver moon
years have passed, yet still we stay
our love burns deep in dusk’s ballet
warm as night and old champagne
Grace is tending bar in the dVerse Poets Pub today ~ our challenge ~ the English Madrigal form. A tricky one for sure. Throughout my childhood, I begged my parents for a monkey ~ to no avail!!
his laughter rings like music full of grace
a dance, a prance as in a quirky dream
upon his rock where golden sunbeams gleam
brushing my shoulder, free in time and place
nimble, as he leaps from stone to tree
his laughter rings like music full of grace
a dance, a prance as in a quirky dream
a joyful creature free in time and place
i watch him climb, then chatter to the sky
for there he reigns where earth and heaven lie
his laughter rings like music full of grace
a dance, a prance as in a quirky dream
upon a rock where golden sunbeams gleam
Melissa hosts Poetics In the Pub ~~ she challenges us to explore how our perspectives and biases inform how we might perceive art. Melissa provided artist Emil Nolde's backstory for us and asked we read it prior to diving into our poems ~ asks are colors and feelings the same after discovering more about him? Does his art tell a new story? Are we as writers separate from what we create?
Lisa plays host today in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ our assignment: Compose a story of no more than 144 words that includes this line from Alice Walker's poem 'Before You Knew It, You Owned It' ~~
"Make of it a parka for your soul."
The house had been cold for months, his presence a wound they tried to ignore. He had done that. Ripped through their trust. Left them bracing against the chill of his failures.
But love he learned does not always vanish. It lingers in quiet mercies ~ a plate left for him at dinner, the hesitant weight of his daughter's head on his shoulder one evening as they watched snow blanket the ground.
He did not deserve it. They offered it anyway.
Pressing his shaking hands between hers, his wife murmured "make of it a parka for your soul." He swallowed against the ache in his throat.
It would take time. The cold would not leave all at once. But warmth had slowly returned ~ born from patience, forgiveness, love.
He pulled it around himself. Held it tight. And he was grateful. So very grateful.
Sanaa is hosting Poetics in the Pub reminding pub-goers that February 14th is fast approaching ~~ a day of expressing and receiving love!
Encore Post for Poets & Storytellers Friday Writings
Rosemary suggests we re-write one of our poems that "didn't work quite as well as we might have liked" ~ transcribe it backward ~ follow the result wherever it takes us ~ create a new poem!
Laura hosts Meeting the Bar in the Pub and asks us to write an invented stanzaic form poem called the "Sparrowlet" [six lines, eight syllables per line, and a complex rhyme scheme] Created by poet, Kathrine Sparrow.
assembled in chill, no mean feat
snow bathed in winter's soft conceit
wine bottles drained connoisseurs we
this modern work of art complete
a roaring fire reflections deep
no mean feat, assembled in chill
Kim is hosting Poetics Tuesday in the Pub this evening ~ Who knew there were words on an eye chart under the requisite Large to Small letters ~ Kim experienced several of them during a recent exam ~ those words have become our challenge!!!
Once upon a time we were lithe lean lovely could not fathom ourselves as old women with society attaching labels like sage crone elder matriarch while assuming we would carry those labels on stooped shoulders our knees and hips failing fast and of course sketchy memory my friends I take pure delight in introducing to you my friends ladies in their eighties our bodies and brains in pretty great shape because we took care of them through countless decades summer fall winter spring!
Quadrille Monday ~~ Mish is hosting in the dVerse Poets Pub ~~ The word "hint" is our poetic clue!!!
born in the shadow of war
we grew up with radio's hum
the smell of fresh cut grass
navigating a world beginning
to forget its ghastly scars
we lived and loved simply
danced in the here and now
no hint of what lay ahead
Bjorn is hosting Meeting the Bar in the Pub today. He asks us to create "positivity thru negativity" in our poems.
if it were not for dreams left behind
roads not taken paths not wandered
i'd find solace in knowing i dared to believe
in a world unconfined never forsaken
if it were not for moments of stillness
whispers of wisdom in evening's soft glow
i'd have rushed through days lost in chaos
missing beauty in the ebb and flow
if it were not for laughter i shared
faint echoes of joy that linger
i might have dwelt in a valley of sorrow
yet sunlight broke through bending my will
In the dVerse Poets Pub, Merril invites us to pen a poem including this line from poet Amanda Gorman's "The Hill We Climb"
“where can we find light in this never-ending shade?”
Rommy has us thinking about batteries running low ~ my poem is / a tale of woe!
Ode to my Cell
behold this phone / a trusty mate
charge is dropping / my sad fate
at 5% it blinks and pouts
a drama queen / creating doubts
but oh dear battery / don't you know
you mirror me / from head to toe
I too by noon could use a nap
recharge my joints / perhaps a snack
for life's a race / don't rush / don't fret
got many sparks to offer yet
I've walked the miles / laughed the years
seen the world / through smiles and tears
sure enough / knees feel 'low power'
my back can crack / at any hour
but life's still bright / on flashing screen
even when I'm low-caffeine
so plug me in / don't let me fade
I still know how pure joy is made
a glass of wine / a laugh or two
I'm good as new / now how 'bout you
It's Open Link Night in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ Sanaa invites us to join the crowd ~ share a poem!
Charlie Dehner ~ Photo
oblivious of the peril
clouds float
toward mountain peaks
impale themselves
on serrated edges
bleed white ~
oblivious of the struggle
winds rise
gather shreds
of the remains
scatter them across
the mountain valleys ~
oblivious of the loss
the sun descends
its amber light
healing the wounds
stitching the horizon
with threads of gold
there is no chalk line in the jungle
just green that bleeds into green
boundaries sketched by the crack of rifle fire
shouts muffled by wet, heavy air
they said the Tet Offensive was a dividing line
between who they were and who they became
the kids with baseball gloves back home
the men who had to kill to breathe
margins, boundaries
men brave enough to cross over
2014
turn around look at me
see the curve of my lip
the sparkle in my eyes
arms wide open
i have enough happiness
for the two of us
2015
you came close enough
to feel my shame
I have no need
to show you more
content to lie here
wait out the night
***************************************************
you came close enough
turn around look at me
see the curve of my lip
i have no need
to show you more
i have enough happiness
for the two of us
In the dverse poets pub, Laura presents us with a "Palinode form" challenge ~ two stanzas, one contradicting the other!
1.
the old year disappears into nothingness
a fleeting shadow lost in time's relentless stream
its joy and laughter ~ gone with fading light
a ghostly trace of what once felt divine
i mourn the past slipped from my grasp
each moment's glow dissolved with dawn's advance
i clutch at yesterday ~ knowing it's a futile task
life moves forward in its ceaseless race
and time unbending offers not another chance
2.
but wait ~ what of the echoes in its wake
tender threads of memories gently spun
the old year lingers still with every step i take
a bridge of gold beneath the setting sun
it whispers truth ~ my guide along the path unknown
its painful losses teach ~ joys still light my sky
last year has not left ~ though shadows it did spread
it shaped me ~ offered hope for this brand new year
for gifts unseen ~ gifts that never die
Happy New Year Pub Dwellers! Lisa introduces us to the “Burning Haibun” ~ a poetic form that begins with haibun prose, then undergoes erasure until what remains is a haiku / senryu
For the past twenty years Carl has worked in a busy supermarket. Everyone knows his name, loves him. He is funny, personable, brightens lives ~ sometimes, his laughter carries across the store loud enough to spread smiles of joy ~ transforming chaos into a shopper's escapade.
His life is not without without pain. We often hear the words "correct and normal" from people these days. As if their version of right, is the only map worth following. Most days he understands they are just words, lines people draw in the sand ~ lines he is able to step over.
My son's life is not defined by what he cannot do, but by the depth with which he does everything. A reminder that art exists outside the museum. that grace is not reserved for the dance, that life, even with its challenges ~ can still be a masterpiece.
In the depths of supermarket lines / busy hands shuffle coupons / like cards in a game / an escapade designed to hide pain / from rising prices / luxuries / a dance of survival sans grace / defined by what they can afford / not what they deserve / across aisles conversation splits / like frayed seams / 'correct' and 'normal' / words they try to avoid / stepping over cracks too deep for repair / lost in the chaos of divide / the masterpiece of unity / crumbling step by step / under the weight of discord.
life is feeling frayed
art and grace are luxuries
we dance to survive
A scary word ~ prioritize
where to begin
how to decide
hang on to my coattails
we're goin' for a ride
that list sure is growing
way out of control
clean out my closets
or deep feed my soul
fold all the laundry
take a long nap
tackle my taxes
or learn how to 'rap'
resolutions calling
full of good cheer
but let us get real
i'm thinking next year
Belmont Blues
Cheers to rhymes / with a gambler's beat
blues and high stakes / the 'all-in' compete
world is slicked over / with sugar and cold
a musical grit / that dares to be bold
guts meeting claws / in combustible waltz
bully's misstep / the 'house' screaming false
but jazz keeps on riffing / wild on the sly
Belmont's sweet rhythm / cracking the sky
Open Link Night in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ Trying my hand at another Trillonet
Punam hosts Monday Quadrille in the dVerse Poets Pub ~ the challenge word is "Bang"
bang the drum slowly let echoes resound
for hearts that are buried in hallowed ground
brave souls who have fallen their courage untamed
in whispers of freedom their legacy’s framed
we honor their sacrifice steadfast and true
honor the flag red, white and blue