Thursday began as any other morning, when the breeze blew in this morning. Cats figure-eight my first sit-spot as cats are wont to do. The coffee brews. Outside, look up, not blue; storm brews? Stirring cream into the hot steaming mug, stirring emotions swirl; Saturday is baby. Not quite eight weeks old, Saturday my…
Category: poetry
dVerse — MTB — Curwood Castle
Day trip, along two roads of perpendicular straight lines,cuts through endless fields, punctuated by bergsand a prison. One way ends and then begins curves;first anchored by a rectangle that serves as a dash between a poetry of smooth golden-rodded turrets’ curves.Inside, heavy, burnished oak of narrow staircases curlever upward; tree repurposed to vine. At last,…
dVerse — Poetics — In Mexico Again
One day I’d love to step outside and pluck you from a tree. Until then, my journey to find you begins at a grocery aisle bin. You, plump, lying with your friends under a fluorescent sun, waiting for an admirer to choose you, to tenuously feel your flesh give. Your skin’s rolling green texture and…
dVerse — Quadrille 129 — Dragon Lover
What is this curiosity we have for winged, scaled worms called dragons? Proof that subterranean vole-bait may transform to soar at-will? Is it their new capriciousness to choose “scorched earth” that attracts? They still sleep in dark wet, for godsakes! Then I spied one… It’s not easily seen in the picture, but the shadow of…
haiku to haiku slam
small glass globe once helda single moving treasure —now still sushi stench image link I just read a poem that likened haiku to locust descending.
Haikai Challenge 193 — Memorial Day haiku series 053121
Bones lie where they fell, bullets long buried silence –each Spring poppies bloom. Too many widowsstooped today, wilting at graves —mourning doves take flight. Uniformed, each Springthey march Main in Everytowntrying to forget. image by Greg Cartmell Frank J. Tassone is the host of Haikai Challenge. Frank says:This week, write the haikai poem of…
The Sunday Muse 162 — White Mums
Puzzled crow envies the puddled stillness of the moon tonight. Even clouds flee the stale smell of worm castings after the storm. Your screams were silenced in thunder; white mums will grace your tombstone. Today’s offering is in the form of a Sijo, a three-line poem that is believed to have first appeared in…
Tao-Talk 