dVerse — MTB — Constanza — recipe

recipe to aim for sleep takes common sense head toss and turn off at the pass when day is but a rosy lass take care, prepare with long defense decide where limits bring fatigue then go beyond; exhaust you seek to guarantee your plan’s success shed worry’s raimant at the door step naked into your…

dVerse — Quadrille 152 — A Contest Rests

A-drowse I muse, who is cuter asleep, baby fauna or Popeye. Sure, tiny heaving feathered, furred, or terried chests attest affection-stirred endearing as they engine-putter guileless nest; yet knowing benevolent, bell-bottoms-exchanged, in a nightshirted Miss Oyl’s Bluto savior’s dreamland bub bub bubs a contest rests. image link Sarah is today’s host for dVerse’ Quadrille Monday….

#TSM 210 — American Sentence

I’m frayed and twisted but still strong — and ready for the next adventure. This short and sweet poem is called an American Sentence, invented by Allen Ginsberg. Carrie is the host of The Sunday Muse.

poem — Oracle — Drink

Drink when you embrace delicious colorbut no need of salty steaming rhythms. Green window cups time in slow voice;liquid flower melt glass to be less. Blue bleed brilliant ice candy velvet,not wild throb that some over work. Die, sexy ghost girl, porcelain prisoner;heal & grass soft, fat champagne laughs. Transcribed from The Oracle verbatim: top…

tanka — spring willow hula

Tender willow fronds hula in early May’s warm breeze. Birds sing their hearts out; confirm to each listener: I’m happy to be alive!

dVerse — Prosery — May Day Knocks

For how can I be sure I shall see again The world on the first of May –From “May Day” by Sara Teasdale I’ve fallen on black days. My ears are deaf to birdsong; nose unmoved by the scent of hyacinth; the soft crush of early strawberries between my molars untasted. Mid-Spring breezes skim over…