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…
Category: poetry
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…
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;…
Tao-Talk 