Born cold and mewling behind a garbage can orphaned at five weeks — streets do what they do. Nourished with milk of human kindness on her first birthday caged but not frozen Gifted to the cat savers hissing and clawing a practiced grumpet a high-ledged watcher Cleaners feeders come and go Still she watches Until…
Category: dverse
dVerse — tranquility — one day one life amongst the others
one day one life amongst the others sheltered indoors plants absorb and dream wind chasers whishing outdoors greens bunnies browse tender clover green and pink bees hum away other blooms to drink jays and chipmunks inchoate punctuate tranquillity’s prose heads’ billowy roofs feets’ crunchy paths we meander between heaven and earth Lillian is the…
Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille, 8/21/19, love ultimate and dVerse OLN
Ultimate Love (Dutch website; photo © unknown) For My Sons I’d give my life for you without a thought; live on — sometimes think of me. You Make Me Sparkle Experiencing your laugh lights every fiber of me, like fireworks. A Prayer Knowing your grace keeps me human. Feeling loved, I beam it back to…
dVerse — Prosery #3 — Juvie
Lying supine in the back of the ambulance, Marga smiled as she approached her region’s Rejuvenation Center. Juvie, as it was affectionately called, had been the final destination for most for almost 100 years now. Rolled out on the gurney with her entourage of IV tubes and bottles, Marga caught a glimpse of sky for…
dVerse — Sestina — Mists of Indigo
“Just Before Dawn” stumbling through realms of red doubting sight of morning’s orange buoyed by kindness’ bright yellow moments of respite in fields of green a will of iron drowning in regret’s blue return again to mists of indigo a traveler, searching through indigo crystal hums with songs of red you, love, lying on wet…
dVerse — Sestina — The Tale of an Irish Rover
Oil painting by Jonelle Summerfield ‘Tis nineteen ought two. Compelled am I to tell this tale As nearer wails the banshee. After long years mulling over My harrowing adventure, truth it be, not fiction’s trail When I was much younger and a thrill-seeking Irish rover Pad and quill at your side, please scribe it…
dVerse — Lost in Translation — Twisted
“Heaven and Hell” by Sergio Arcos I am choosing the first poem, by Desanka Maksimović, to interpret. Desanka’s poem: Migratory Birds Through night and moisture wild geese go south crying in painful glory. I feel like writing a dark story: Them carrying away on their two white wings I don’t know where, I don’t know…
Tao Talk 