shadow topography disorients, deceptive black map suspends us with starlight along dark paths. stumbles fall in dream- less sleep to dawn. arise now blank slate upon which to draw dawn’s sunlight topography, earth’s dirty receptivity. in rainbow geometry, kernels germinate to blossom-scented reign. top image: Hourglass- The short Eternity by Italia-Ruotolo-Art Whimsygizmo aka (De Jackson)…
Category: quadrille
dVerse — Quadrille 174 — Count Me Out
image link In rhythm with vinyl platter spinning33 1/3 revolutions per minute, tappingfeet to Fab4’s beat — until we, the cats and I, jump to rat-a-tat. Neighbor’s AK practice, aimed not at imagined upper crud, but brothers —are things going to be alright? The title and last line are part of the lyrics from The…
dVerse — Poetics — Hara-tsuzumi (Belly Hand Drum) (was quadrille 106)
It had been reported that Tanuki fell from the sky using his scrotum as a parachute. —Tom Robbins, Villa Incognito Shaded sepia Bipedal bandit Bushy chase Big bouncing balls Pendulous paunch Youkai icon Kin to kitsune Debaucherous ninja Shapeshifter Picaresque player For human games Saucy cane rapper Visiting trickster Deals the cards Laid back fun…
dVerse Q170 (2nd one) — Datura’s Symphony
Datura, pale, mute blossom, listens inthe cold, dark purple night, as the moon stays a lost prisoner in towered clouds.She eschews silence; instead yearnsfor dreamed notes in her stone cavern: lost music’s echoed strains of moaned liquid silk and vermillion-scented sins. 2nd on for Linda’s dVerse prompt of “music” for a quadrille
dVerse Q170 — Song of Spring
Music me with season’snotes, cast bright light streams that alchemize dark, dispel; bringing not leaves butarrivals, fresh green sprung. Butter dandelion mop tops ascend as first bee manna;crocus buds bowl to striped lilac, thawed humus notes tickle my pinked ivory nose. Linda Lee Lyberg is today’s host for dVerse’ Quadrille Monday. Linda says:write a…
dVerse Q169 — I Believe
Sculpture of Tinker Bell by Diarmuid Byron O’Connor, photo by Patrick Steele Moon’s zenith casts its limelight on her landing amongst field stubble. In wonder at her tiny flowing form, realize Tinker Bell is not Barrie’s figment, but sprung from stars. She flutters over, chimes, “May I have some hot tea? Space is so very…
dVerse — Q168 — Winter Tears
Red plume finery cannot deflect; Angel pink dips cannot stem; White sheet bark cannot turn, nor wood smoke drift to gone, today’s cursed canvas of gloom. Its stench cannot be washed off. Ice crystal tears weep in dismay. Until sun sword slices to blue. Mish is today’s host of dVerse’ Quadrille Monday. Mish says: Write…
Tao Talk 