Category: dVerse
-
dVerse Quadrille #37
He Dreams of Gin When he dreams of gin, he takes this, not that road. This fork, not that one. Claims that despair’s his wisdom — he’s no damned fool. Blasphemy is vanity’s prayer, he says. This man fears his dying sounds. He sleeps with rats. He dreams of gin. dVerse’s Quadrille #37:…
-
Haibun #40: Summer
Lemonade Daze That particular summer was endlessly hot. The sun withered my sister and me into fragility, splayed us in a reach for breezes as we sheltered in dark corners. We whined when mum insisted we go outside and play. “You two act like you’re afflicted, struck by some serious brain condition.” So we stalked…
-
dVerse Does Lai
A Bear’s Picnic Our hike ended here. Sun risen. Sky clear. Twigs snapped as we walked in fear of grizzly bears near. In fact we could overhear growls — oh dear, bear tracks! for dVerse Poets. Poetic form: Lai. aab/aab/aab/ a=5 syllables and b=2 syllables
-
for dVerse Sanity
Long-Winded His voice was a harmonic vibrator. I’ll start at the beginning, he said, and I thought, Oh, no, please don’t. But he did. So I listened — but only to the first three words after each intake of his breath. for dVerse: Poems to Save Your Life (or Sanity)
-
Quadrille #34
Of You I was thinking about you as I watched the beauty of clouds. You. Stormy. Like weather fighting the world. You said we’d grow old, pitch peanut shells at the floor, and stalk shadows like dark ruins. I still think of you, and your raucous laughter. A Quadrille for dVerse: 44 words (excluding…
-
dVerse’s Haibun #36
It’s May. The streets are wet from this morning’s sharp shower, apple blossoms are falling from the trees, and the birds are singing and whittling twigs into nests. The air seems a song. My dad, bless him these 10-years gone, used to whistle that zip-a-dee-doo-dah song. He’d smile as if Mr Bluebird was on his…
-
dVerse’d Limericks
Bricked There was bricklayer from Surrey who mistook ice cream flurry for mortar, and as the sun shone and he talked on his phone, the mortar melted in a hurry. dVerse Does Limericks
-
dVerse Quadrille #29
Jane’s Ashes That afternoon became the entire day; that’s the way of memories — morning’s chorus of seagulls wheeling updrafts migrating across county lines, barren hedges and low light of off-shore storms — all forgotten. We only remember weeping hearts, and releasing pink balloons in her memory. written for dVerse’s Quadrille #29 44 words…
-
Wordle #292 & Haibun #33
Those Early Years I am 60 years more than I was then, inhaling life, and out in the middle of nowhere. We fled the city for the shadows in foothills, camping under soothing stars and between the wide feet of trees. We toasted bread with licks from open flames. Made velvety stew, thick and sweetened…
-
Dead Birds and Relics and Too Many Words
Dead Birds and Relics Moths and flames and curiosity; I was drawn to that boxy-solid museum with its grey dullness, and its terraced strong-arm steps for catching slips and stumbles during white-mantled weather. Those were my impressionist days when the world was dipped in a blur, and the busy periphery yielded to burdenous double-door brass…
It's Still Life 