dVerse — Quadrille 160 — to a better place

We fair fringe, found.You invite us to sit,to listen to talesof your faraway, homewhere all are one,where superfluous bodiesare given in serviceto gods like you.Departure day we sitknee to knee, selfless circle,sipping farewell punch. top image: APOD: 2004 October 3 – Comet Hale Bopp and the North America Nebula De Jackson (aka whimsygizmo) is today’s host…

dVerse — Quadrille Monday 159 — Strange

image link I wonder how many times I’ve said, “whatever works”? It must be in the thousands by now. How many times have eyes looked for support for an out-of-the-box fix towards a solution? Why does the weight of cultural expectation shroud and burden every move? [44 words] I’m continuing to listen to lectures by…

dVerse — Monday Quadrille 158 — Morning Shadows

image link Morning’s nature place I seldom see anymore except in flat snapshots, neatly tucked away; pulled out from their cache when it’s time to cry or write poems. Morning’s rally place is one of dreams interrupted, clarion to conform; where one puts on the uniform. Linda Lee Lyberg is today’s host of dVerse’ Quadrille…

dVerse — Monday Quadrille — My type

Photo is used with permission by fabulous photographer, Pat, at Chronicles Of An Anglo Swiss. my type blows blue, clouds up, purges skies of subtlety. puffs petrichor into dusty nostrils, quivers stemhairs, stirs windchimes; the type that makes the call still sparks where wyrms enter, their tidings pleased roar Yinglong’s regard embodies fortunes freefalling, pummeling,…

dVerse — Quadrille 155 — Heaven’s Newest Angel

  Petrichor cloud balloons bob as the band tunes up; it’s time to celebrate heaven’s newest angel. She’s been orienting for a few weeks and just passed the fit-for-duty quiz. She’s test-flying her wings; landing is expected in five. God always gets the first dance. My mom passed away on June 21.  This is what…

dVerse — Monday Quadrille 154 — however it’s spelled

Does exuberant green panorama speak Spring or Summer? Mid-June paper flutters in ninety-degree heat. Rhubarb roars. Dandelions smoke cigarettes, bees hmmm carnal at rainbows. Lilacs’ brown sugar memory; mitigated with gingered peonies. Life cycles’ motors rumble. Six letters may spell what they wish. This poem is also a nod  to Sanaa’s included quote (thanks Sanaa!)…

dVerse — Quadrille 153 —  Greed’s Covet

Dawn blushes horizon’s lip as deer, mist-soaked, hooves to coats, browse. Drowsy after night’s day, they, dainty, step through stone testaments of dust. The grass is greenest here, over bones, where ghosts’ collective groans lament our kind’s terminal folly; our greed’s covet .……………………………………………over love. top image link Linda is today’s host of dVerse’ Quadrille Monday. …