It’s the beginning of January and in the middle of the night, when all is still except for the low chatter coming from the latest netflix episode from the latest series. One cat sleeps on my lap and one cat sleeps under my right arm on the couch, warm and dreaming of hunts in…
Category: dverse
dVerse — Haibun 95 — New Beginnings?
photo by Alex Nye Back in 2008, my then-boyfriend had gone on and on about the years he spent living in Santa Barbara, CA, to a point where I seriously thought about getting a job there and relocating. I watched the county human resources web site and applied for jobs I was qualified for. Sure…
dVerse — MTB 229 — Clouded Amber?
Days odd and even even sun-crossed moon, are the (the)ater of unresolved thoughts. Thoughts waived, arrhythmic tattering honey. Honey, swirled and cloudy, won’t; wont to ooze and cling to heart and wing, stick, stick(y), drippy cotton-candy paralysis, pre-fossilized to to(tal) unsolved resolution. Ink-expressed, we may have have(n) in comfort that what we leave, might-have-been been…
dVerse — Poetics 434 — Croaked
Once upon a Spring… Penny did her usual afternoonstroll in the forest; crocus and lily-of-the-valleyperfumed the trail. Birds sang from treetops; spring peepers called from the pond. Inhaling deeply and sighing, Penny felt a contentmentshe could only find at this time of the year. Lost in her thoughts, she heard the loud croak of a…
dVerse — Quadrille 118 — Poet Pub Sanctuary
Once monolith beaconto gypsies, ruffians,and stone-soup pilferers; Then dusted off to toast frigid winter digits inyellow-warm inglenooks; Yet it rests, comfy within our poet soulsas we cozy up. Blood of their blood,heart of their hearts,our church of words. Looking for inspiration by scrolling through images of Inglenooks, the one at Calder Abbey house caught my…
dVerse — OLN 280 — Ask not…
Ask no questions of the moth in the candle flame–Attar A lowly larvae at the start,she crawls and eats from forest floor.Machinic munching, Darwin’s art,yet lonely larvae’s yearning starts. An ache that niggles in her heart,she weaves a pod — she senses more.Transformed, no longer bound to earthConsuming need, to heaven soars. She pirouettes in…
dVerse — Poetics 432 — Curdled Rose
My heart was split, and a flower appeared… –King Solomon A mother’s love may be assumed unless she’s dickered with a beast.Foul vapid roach, her soul consigned,a mother’s hate may be assumed.A mother’s bile designs your tomb.Your curdled rose rise, barren, bleak.As mother’s clause ensures your doom,your tender heart split for her feast. I…
Tao-Talk 