Tag: Poetry
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23 August: dVerse Quadrille Pines
Rooted in Pines A friend once told me,visit a graveyardwhen you’re depressed. You will feel happier. There’s a twitch widthbetween thislife and death. But I’m happy to root myselfunder tall pines, and I’m not enticed by a ledge that inventsa leap. For De’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse Poets – to include is any form of the word…
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22 August: The Goatherd 4
4. When She Sees the Goats She sees the goatsbefore she sees the man. A white goat leaping about like a small moth. A black one studying branches of an Argan tree. She leans down and draws milkfrom its tit into her cupped hand. It trickles between her fingers,warm and rich,the colour of pale butter.…
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22 August: For Ragtag Daily Prompt
The Automatic Queueing System Busy. Their phone is always busy. I should’ve poured a coffee. I can almost count the leaves falling. Already, it’s the end… You are number five in the queue. …of August, and the nights are colder. I smell the scent of wood smoke passing through the neighbourhood … You are number…
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21 August: Spontaneity
The sun has found me, its warmth strikes my face. I half expect God to say, “Lift up your face,” but all I hear is bird song. And it’s enough. This is my daily walk. Footpaths. Encroaching brambles. Shoe laces that won’t stay tied; it’s a gradual undoing. I’m undone by a newfound appreciation for…
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20 August: The Goatherd 3
3. When He Was Just a Boy (Draft) He came hereto escapethe noise. The honking,the too many voices all togetherand all at once type noise. To escapethe streets, and the greasy dieselbrown of the rising sun. He came hereto survive,not knowing that the sun’s sharp hipscars the land, that it chafesand cracks the soil,leaves trees…
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19 August: The Goatherd 2
2. When She Was Just a Girl (Draft) School left her behind, silent and different,never feeling very dear around herself. She said she was like first people, simplein needs, and silent in her own thoughts, and she wanted someone real like her,someone who wouldn’t walk backwards. She tied a donkey to her wooden cart,and put…
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18 August: The Goatherd (a possible series)
I. The Goatherd (Draft) He has a gathering of coins in one pocket,courage in the other, a cat that chases rats,and he lives with his goats in a metal hut. His wife looks older than her age. They talkabout a poor harvest, and eat fried peanuts.He wonders who was first to fry a peanut. She…
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16 August: Transitions
A Little Brouhaha All about me, they lean,dahlias the size of dinner plates.It’s a feast of decanted pinksmacked sidewise, andstrong armed in a breeze. The air twists on scents of fermenting apples, wasps behaving like angry drunks,and all their unhinged buzzingis a premonition of autumn. Written for dVerse “Transitions” and RDP “Brouhaha” (in reference to angry, buzzing wasps) and Fandango’s…
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16 August: dVerse Prosery
Vanished She’s learning about sound barriers at school. Sound. Speed. Aeroplanes. Red lights on the left. Green lights on the right. Like Christmas lanterns flashing on steel wings. “Flash. Flash. Flash,” she calls out to the hundreds of faces up there. People flying through rain coloured clouds, over roads and Tobermory-colour houses. She watches the…
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