Month: Aug 2016
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Personifying the Moon for dVerse
To Wax Crescent I. Tonight, the moon is a slim wisp of herself, her knees tucked, and she waits. II. we throw stones, we’re safe, live in a brick house. and that old moon, it just glares down on us. for dVerse: Personifying the Moon
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For dVerse: Quadrille #15
Up a Tree My childhood was up a tree, on a limb, a branch, twigs too far. It grew, I grew legs long and arms to reach up through colours – spring, summer, fall’s scent on bark, sticky, pitchy, sweeping ’round my head. Those leaves falling. Falling. written for dVerse’s Quadrille Monday (44 words)
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Moons and Light for Poetic Blooming
A Little Night Light I lit a candle, then held it to the moon, two sulky spectres, like two dreamy eyes, and I watched them both unravel into a golden gleam. And that candle twitched, and then trickled waxy vines across my hand. written for Poetic Bloomings “Moon“
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Class 6: Whitman’s Civil War: Writing and Imaging Loss, Death, and Disaster
Reconciling Shadows Once upon our time, we turned the grey face of war into timid rain. Sent flags falling while ours rose like the sun. and I hoped never to touch dark horrors again. Hoped never to feel steel’s heat, to see its blood. Its sticky matte. these are Curious times, where I expect the…
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A Cinquain for P’Bloomings
Fled Luck was a tapestry, days of infinity. Into your arms, a refugee of love. Poetic Form: Cinquain: 2.4.6.8.2 syllables/line. Written for Poetic Bloomings In-Form Wednesday
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dVerse Does Spouses
Mister Julia Childs She says I taste jammy, like plums or a goblet of sweet wine. My wife is earth’s pot, its radiant heat, a swollen dragon blaze. And (shhhh) I took her right there amongst the cabbages and courgettes. written for dVerse Poets: “Spouses of Famous People”
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for dVerse: Haibun #19
There’s Always One By 10 o’clock it was darker than the wrath of god. We heard the tide rising behind us, soft and tender, the chatter of rolling pebbles, and before us a driftwood campfire rising and speaking in tongues of cackling fury. We were girls on the edge of hormonal burst, ten of us…
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A Brief Moment with Sunday Whirl #262
Jury Duty And then that long misty day yawned like some sleepy jury. The wall clock ticking as time unspun itself into games and daydreams, paperbacks with minuscule print and no pictures. What to read. What to do. Two weeks. The man next to me cringes; he’s called for jury selection. I do a mental…
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Class 5: Whitman’s Civil War: Writing and Imaging Loss, Death, and Disaster – Memories and Senses
From a Sea-Salted Dock We wore black. Wore our perfumery like strung pearls and affection, and spoke whispered words that left us tongue-tied and arid. God watched, tasted our tears; stirred our petrichor, calm-scented as grey-fringed clouds. And we stood on the sea-salted dock, released his ashes to the air, to the sea. There on…
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PB’s In-Form “Dodoitsu”
for Poetic Bloomings, In-Form Wednesday. Poetic form: Dodoitsu, constraint 7.7.7.5
It's Still Life 