image link Her living lingered, her funeral brief; children scattered, peers long gone home. Ghosts’ welcomes await her release from the bronze urn. She’s sprinkled along Spring thunderstorm’s wake, towards the lake. April sun’s comfort warms as it dries; her chalky residue remains, her final farewell. De Jackson, aka whimsygizmo, is today’s host for dVerse’…
Category: poetry
Easter 2022 Haiku
old woman asleepsmiles, warm in the sunlightdreaming of May dance
dVerse — Prosery — December May Yet…
Talk what you please of future spring and sun-warm’d sweet tomorrow. –Christina Rossetti, from Daughter of Eve Bell is working her way towards upper management. Armand is an exchange student beginning a summer internship. As Bell speaks fluent Spanish she’s been asked to mentor him. Even though she, forty years old, is twice Armand’s age,…
dVerse — Poetics — Losing My Religion
lose the stones in your pockets lose the guilt that you choose lose the grit in your sprockets lose the rotgut in your booze lose the shadow of your fear lose the whine in your bellow lose the cotton in your ears lose the judgment on your fellows lose the hunger of your want lose…
Cover Reveal for ‘Wounds I Healed’ — Experiments in Fiction
Calling all poets! Calling all poets! Please take a look at the beautiful artwork on the cover of a book currently in the making. Submissions are still being taken for it. Today, I am excited to reveal the cover of the forthcoming anthology from Gabriela Marie Milton and EIF, Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of…
dVerse — Quadrille 149 — cloudfish speaks
It matters not the season, awake or asleep, please know me and understand, from grain of sand shifting with water, to morning’s crystals on a blade of grass, to your hands along warm scented skin, my swimming infinity; tender breadcrumbs offered as holy gifts. [44 words] I wanted to use one of my collages to…
TSM 205 — Haunted Diner
“The Whitehouse Diner” Photo by Aaron Segreaves Haunted Diner I can still hear them, their laughter, the plates and glasses clinking. I can still hear them, when youth’s engine blushed our cheeks. Spied then I, two entwined through the glass, heart sinking. Flames grew tall; I torched them all without thinking. I can still hear…
Tao-Talk 