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…
Category: dverse
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…
dVerse — MTB — found poem(s) from 2022
i. The first time I saw you I heard boom Late Sunday night I’m sipping tea The first of summer, I stand before a California tree our appointed place, in our dappled green lane, ii. Is health dread chore as stone to bear, It’s quantity and quality’s Mountain Her living lingered, Her face a white…
