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…
Category: poetry
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…
dVerse — Quadrille 160 — to a better place
We fair fringe, found.You invite us to sit,to listen to talesof your faraway, homewhere all are one,where superfluous bodiesare given in serviceto gods like you.Departure day we sitknee to knee, selfless circle,sipping farewell punch. top image: APOD: 2004 October 3 – Comet Hale Bopp and the North America Nebula De Jackson (aka whimsygizmo) is today’s host…
#TSM228 — sellebrity
Theda Bara in Cleopatra 1917 From the dawn of time, women have been held hostage by the fantasies of weak, selfish men. Clothed in death and coerced into lassoing the moon for her milk, how can we ever consider wealth and fame as food for our souls? Or the price paid with batting false eyelashes,…
dVerse — Ekphrastic on Lee Madgwick image — Safe — linked to OLN323
Lee Madgwick safe am I; green velvet glove cushions me. protected from harm, the fires in the hearths warm; seamless clay walls and chimneys, each story’s windows caulked and locked; a fortress, constructed brick by brick. sleep comes easy without anxieties, yet why are my dreams about escaping? sometimes, when awake, it’s hard to breathe…
dVerse — Prosery — apples, alyssum, and arnica
I’d like, too, to plant the sweet alyssum that smells like honey and peace. by Katherine Riegel, from the poem, “What I would like to grow in my Garden.” Summer’s wandered off. Harvest moon presides during crisp-aired dormiveglia that sweetens the apples. Not quite autumn, sunshine continues cavorting with wind’s playful nips. Today, Melba strolls…
Tao-Talk 