French Dress 1871 Bell is a portal. Walking through, when I think “bell”I get caught up in pink Frenchsilk with frills, creamy skin,and heady perfume. Another cache’s trigger pulled,I giggle, after nearly fifty years,while watching SNL’s skit,“We need more cowbell!” Kim is today’s host for dVerse’ Quadrille Monday. Kim says:Today I’d like you to take…
Category: dverse
dVerse Poetics and TankaTuesday — Troiku to Kombucha
mushrooms rest upon a still sea of sweetened tea working their magic mushrooms rest upon their belief in alchemy spin cane death to gold sea of sweetened tea good bacteria guzzles, farts, and burps bubbles working their magic sugar-free fizzy tonic does our bodies good top image link I am today’s host of dVerse’ Poetics….
dVerse — Prosery Monday — Death Becomes Her
To her, death is quite romantic from Bob Dylan’s “Desolation Row” It’s not the falling in love that she finds difficult; it’s the staying in love. Suffering an all-or-nothing type of malady, when the inevitable disappointment by a lover happens, her mind begins to wander. She slips their cache open and makes a check-mark in…
dVerse — Quadrille 161 — Monster
Tracks tell our tales, bits, clues of worlds, endless intersects, maps through time; fossilized, covered, interred crimes unearthed, stinking, weepy confessions nobody wants to hear. Yet, in ink’s cloy one’s morbid shadow peers, an uncalled lurid alliance never dared spoken for amygdalic animal fear. top image link Merril is today’s host for dVerse’ Quadrille Monday. …
dVerse — Poetics — A World in Balance
A mountain bright then shadow-flipped as sun traverse the sky. With nimbos clouds and lightning bolts, the lines begin to blur. Ten thousand things in motion is the way of things, yet why? A death white hot is beating down upon the red, cracked earth where each still living thing yearns for its long parch…
September’s Sunday Morning Rain (haibun)
September’s Sunday morning rain brings a flock of hungry robins to the complacent, slow worms. Clouds like flipping light switches turn the sun off and on. The birds are fattening up for the long flight south. It feels a bit early for their migration. They move with purpose and I swear excitement, as the lush,…
dVerse Poetics and Word Craft Poetry Tanka Tuesday — Eternally
Kneeling in church, as he whooshes by in his blood red brocade she breathes cinnamon and flounders between heaven and earth. He glances her beatific form in passing. For him it is her ginger locks, rolling down her slender back against the vanilla cream gown. Unholy unions will be revealed and punished. They have a…
