tUScany

beyond the 10-hour-glass-front
(knotty-legged in this familiarly backstabbing seat)
an ocean of rye, harboring
this groggy wooden chair, tilting drunkenly;
young poppy blossom on tiptoe, reaching
to lend a delicate hand to the Seasoned ~
the bus crescendoed, sputtering,
and your eyes grew distant.

“I never liked olives,” you said that evening,
and flicked the black through liquid gold, bumping
into its younger brother,
like marbles on chipped china.
wild capers scrambled through
the cracks of shattered amphorae, nested
in a jungle of vines ~ you took
a sip of ruby red & I
saw the aaaaah in your eyes, lips sealed in a secretive smile ~

in a matter of minutes, we found ourselves
deeply rooted
in the Garden of Eden.

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Written for Karin Gustafson’s prompt over at dVerse. Today, we’re doing Poetics Italian Style. So good to be back… grab a pen and join us at the bar!

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Reflection/Dear Self

Dear Self,

last night your tiny voice
played catch with moonbeams,
and in an instant of clarity,
your words rang true.

for too long i have buried you
under the stench of make-believe,
and waxen smiles, painted lipstick-red,
fastened lies to the surface.

it was the mirror of the moon
that thrust this bladed truth through prison’s flesh,
and feeble, makeshift lies flaked off my callused mind
to leave me bare & bathed in light.

i am sorry i failed you
for so long.
it is time for change.

M.

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Mary over at dVerse invites us to write an ‘epistolary poem’ for Poetics today – I wrote a letter-poem to myself. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect, thank you, Mary.
As I am going through some major changes in my life, I do not know how often I will be able to write over the next couple of weeks – time will tell. It will be quite a journey on my end, so bear with me…
I would like to say thank you to my wonderful readers and fellow poets… you never cease to amaze me.
See you soon!

Stripped Bare

sometimes i lose myself in the gap
between zombie flicks and heroic deeds;
there is a love story, wrapped in plastic,
that reveals my squishy core
and points your way

when pompous days retreat,
I seek refuge, devoid its colors
& smile in grey, not
taking sides
for a change

in this moment,
when your gaze holds mine,
I shed my heavy armor
and, for just a second,
become 
me,
unplugged.

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Fred Rutherford over at dVerse invites us to write a poem on the topic of becoming ‘unplugged’ for Poetics today. Grab a pen and join the fun!

Out Of The Blue

there is a dream, woven
into the pillars of Atlantis;
seaweed whispers, tangled
in flowing mermaid’s hair
& I
become liquid myth,
mingling; drinking
c(h)orals of (the) Deep Blue (Sea) ~

i take a vow of secrecy
through salt-crusted lips,
close my eyes
& dream
Atlantis
among the waves.


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Written for Karin Gustafson’s wonderful Prompt about “bodies of water” for dVerse’s Poetics. Grab your poem and join us at the bar!

42.

Hatchnumbers

4ever we see(k)
e(igh)ternity’s head stand
& ONE tied
to the 5-pointed star;

 water

earth                      fire

 air            ether

is that really
all there is?

if 1and6 is me, i need another one of these ~
for 2getherwemake3,
but that’s a different story.

“What do you say, Valenzetti?
Are we Lost,
hitchhiking the Galaxy?”

… but the answer is always
42.

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… a rather cryptic one for Laurie Kolp’s prompt about numbers over at dVerse.
Hope you enjoy nonetheless!
What’s your number? Come and join us at the bar!
photo credits: images3.wikia.nocookie.net

Ghostdancers

Miyelo6b
– Miyelo 6, Viggo Mortensen

Tokša wanweglakin kte
Tokša wanweglakin kte
Nihun k’un he heye lo
Nihun k’un he heye lo

Later I shall see my own
Later I shall see my own
Your mother said it so
Your mother said it so

(Oglala Lakota Chant)

***

heartfire roots
grow beneath a crust of modern life
and struggle
not to be forgotten

what we don’t see
isn’t there
isn’t     there
i    s            n    o       t              t       h        e             r                  e
& we firmly grip the leash
on our minds’ journeys.

what we don’t see
isn’t there.
Isn’t there.

a blink,

is it there?

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Claudia over at dVerse invites us to write about Fata Morganas and summer heat illusions for Poetics today. Grab a pen and join us at the bar!
photo credits: Viggo Mortensen

The End Of Days

417px-Odin_and_Fenris
– Odin and Fenrir

wide lick the waves at seasons’ wailing end
worlds squirm & wither beneath a weakening moon
sulfurous teeth singe stars & feeble grass
the days grow dark, doomed; wolfish grins.

Fenrir feasts, a fiery dusk
he tears and tastes the tales of Gods;
a brother once bound, now bounds free
rivers roam, Ragnarök has come.

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Tony Maude over at dVerse invites us to use Accentual Alliteration for today’s Form for All. This is my attempt or rather, draft – I have no idea if I did it right… so hard (even harder at 4am), but such fun! 😀 Of course I had to tackle Norse Mythology… may the Gods forgive my feeble attempt. 😉
photo credits: en.wikipedia.org