I, Peter Edward Baker, was born in South London on August 19, 1939, the son of me mum, Ruby, who worked in a tobacco shop and me da, a bricklayer son of a bricklayer – until the Royal Signal Corps put him on the front lines. Blitzkreig bombings started when I was a wee lad…
Category: dverse
dVerse — Poetics — imprint
Pulled up to the empty parking lot of the restaurant. Amend that, empty except for one giant Yamaha crotch rocket and a man, standing off to the side, looking at the back patio. His back turned so I could get a long look at his long frame in his tan dress pants and matching…
dVerse — quadrille — Blue and Clouds
Blue seems so far away, yet here I stand, immersed. Seen from a distance; clear, yet felt so murkily within. Clouds, wing-fluffed mystical messengers; cushioned protectors from punishing glare. Blue-clotted canvas smoothed under moving yet constant angel brushes — watery dilutors of woe. Kim from Writing in North Norfolk is today’s host of…
Reena’s Exploration Challenge 143 — cool grey slate and dVerse OLN
Surveying cool grey slate, Shapes form, then colors Rainbowed characters drawn Shade shift, flavors pique Sensory extravaganza But only in our minds What is is a unidimensional Flat map of what could be How do we inflate the dream Into three dimensions? Winds, planets, satellites Water pools, veins, capillaries Mountains, valleys, caves The greenleafs and…
dVerse — Merfolk — Ondine
He found her floundering in his net, which was empty until then. Lost troubled face; confused and spent. Docked at the empty cottage where his mother lived before; he gave her baggy clothes to wear. Off to the village to see Annie, he didn’t see her bury something in the garden. She sang, the fish…
Reena’s Exploration Challenge #140 and dVerse OLN — Let Us Purr
Incensed at incest from 5 to 10 Perturbed by a pounding at nine for refusing a kiss Ballastic over being “bitch!’ed” at random rambunctiousness to shut up and shut down Pissed off at being punched for disagreeing — the night before his mother came to visit Displeased at being drenched with water for trying to…
dVerse — imagism — Lookin Out My Back Door
Tall bushy green hair tops over thick black poles, Standing, ‘fro touching ‘fro, as a living gateway to a field that is somewhere between fresh cut and gone to seed. The welcome mat is wide for the feet of grazing deer at dusk, frisky rabbits, and the occasional whooshing wings of a hawk. Green…
Tao-Talk 