dVerse Q169 — I Believe

Sculpture of Tinker Bell by Diarmuid Byron O’Connor, photo by Patrick Steele Moon’s zenith casts its limelight on her landing amongst field stubble. In wonder at her tiny flowing form, realize Tinker Bell is not Barrie’s figment, but sprung from stars. She flutters over, chimes, “May I have some hot tea? Space is so very…

dVerse OLN 331 — Nature Speaks

You gaze, your golden eye fringedwith pine lashes; snow cradle angelsframe your grace in a face of blue. You brush a message of “unknown“across grainy crystal canvas thatanswers a question from the soul. You frost the dancing winter willowas its scraggly yellow hair shimmieswith gratitude; “no limbs lost, thanks.“ Your tacit promise of Spring singsin…

dVerse Poetics — Grandmother Moon

I carry Spring in my heart as I gaze up at my Grandmother Moon.   There is too much to write about my grandmother.  It is like writing about the moon.  I created the collage to celebrate the Chinese Lunar New Year of the Rabbit and decided to use it for my American Sentence about…

dVerse — Q168 — Winter Tears

Red plume finery cannot deflect; Angel pink dips cannot stem; White sheet bark cannot turn, nor wood smoke drift to gone, today’s cursed canvas of gloom. Its stench cannot be washed off. Ice crystal tears weep in dismay. Until sun sword slices to blue. Mish is today’s host of dVerse’ Quadrille Monday. Mish says: Write…

dVerse Poetics — In January

Crimson wings cast weak shadows on russet fluffs still standing from once-sunny goldenrod; they clump, the mangy fur of a hungry coyote lost from its pack. Limp, muted green mats of still grass fill the spaces, where deer lie, hide to hide, in their warm rests until Venus nightly beckons from her speckled black bowl….

dVerse — Prosery — Stitched

Everything I do is stitched with its color. – W.S. Merwin, from “Separation” Epithets were part of my family’s lexicon. My paternal side used gentler terms; the maternal side hurled vicious ones with glee. How my family, who lived in shacks, toiled in non-unionized factories, and were blessed to have a rabbit for dinner; and…

last lines for 2022 poems

painting by Mary Sonya Conti nature’s teaching brings illumination of sun;bluff that satisfies the sequoia.each thing falls away like a leaf and tunes into each moment’s song.cold shadows fade; promised hearth warms us.elbow to elbow, we verse ourselves and flyand wave. another babe on your armas you inhale your garden,reciprocal determinersact of comfortingremains. her final…