I take my daily stroll around the yard and notice the shift in color as summer theater packs up its costumes. Browns lift from the soil to the tips of flower stalks as prickly seeds that I gather into slowly filling ramekins. Bright-costumed sulphur cosmos depart, to creep their color along undergrowth and up into…
Category: poetry
What’s Going On? — “Take This” (prayer)
Take this clutter from my house, my psyche, and the world. Strings are meant for symphonies, not marionette parodies. Mycellia woven tidy telegraphs, not cyber-marketing memes. Neural networks wired for survival, not rewired electronica. Intelligence for planet sustenance, not for ways to starve it. We’ve lost our way and suffocate in the poisons we hoard….
dVerse – Q184 — Smash
life comes with an expiration date.really, what are you waiting for?face it, careful doesn’t cut itwhen days are ticking out.smash your lips into itget them wet, sticky,salty, sweet, warmguzzle the tangbreathe everylast drop of it! top image link De Jackson (aka whimsygizmo) is today’s host of dVerse’ Quadrille Monday. De says:write a 44-work poem using…
dVerse Poetics — I Prefer Chiclets (updated with linked article)
Dennis Waterman Too many cups of coffee too many cigarettes have stained his pearls to yellow chiclets. Call me fickle, but I prefer their gleam to the harshness of fluorescent rows of selfie sickness’ glows. Sarah is today’s host of dVerse’ Poetics. Sarah wants us to write about yellow. For those unfamiliar with Chiclets, go…
King (shadorma)
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.
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…
Tao-Talk 