A grizzled hungry king waits in verdant shade’s hushed splendor while his mate hunts game to lay at his soft-pawed feet. This is a pic I took on the garden tour in July. I haven’t written many shadormas and need practice.
Category: poetry
Tanka Tuesday 337 — Memory Dance
photo by Terri Webster Schrandt canyon’s furry paw cups in golden light her cool wet palm buoyant paradise two float as one, a timelessness in this perfect shared moment when the world disappears reciprocal love memory trails carry our currents on on we go life currents rippling outward bumping not binds but quantum platters spinning…
dVerse Prosery — Night of the Solstice
To be pretty for you I have dropped two seeds of turnsole in the dark of both eyes. — by Isabel Duarte-Gray, from the poem, Garden I remember the date my soul left my body. It was the night before the winter solstice of my seventeenth year. Mother had been down with the grip for…
d’Verse MTB — Darling Nell
A woman who knows where she’s been, where she is, and where she is headed. Darling Nell and Dear Tigare mirrored, mutually imprinted, souls housed in flesh. Nell, whose thought caches contain many worlds, spillsmemoirs, clears mice nests from boots, and dives intoicy water to retrieve windblown, now sodden, yoga pants. Tig, a helpmate, appreciator…
Tanka Tuesday 336 — annual harvest
We gather, families. Planting’s start ends in fields’ sweet plenty, each seed’s wrung miracle made manifest. We, shirts wet, sour sweat under dusk lemon skies raise glad, tearful eyes, whisper thanks to Mother’s graced, successful harvest season. Harvest complete, barns filled, and canning done; midnight bonfires, warm bellies, blue moon. Cool dawn’s wake, in community;…
Special Delivery
Jules and I exchanged some of our seeds with each other recently, via the post office. Imagine my delight when I found this package in my mailbox. I have Jules’ permission to share it here. I love stamps, and her package to me is a gift in and of itself. Thank You! brown paper springs…
TankaTuesday 335 — Honeymoon’s Postures
Eugène Manet on the Isle of Wight (1875) by Berthe Morisot As you freshen up, I wait, gaze upon two proper ladies; ruffled white blossoms, flushed with salty air, stare, hungry robins. Gull’s cry breaks the spell; guilt flops and lodges. “Where for tea?” you ask. Startled, I turn to meet your sparkling blue eyes….
Tao Talk 