we never (fully) abandoned the colour of saying —
though we may have marked its grave with
skeletal remains of a poet’s table on a once capsized field —
girls, grown to women, grow restless, grow bold,
lose their virginity (but not all hope once they surrender their plays) —
boys turned men do not run anymore;
nor do they whistle, just stare, stone-cold at former lovers’ leafy beds,
adjusting ties & seemingly bountiful lives with the flick of
a watch-weighted wrist; trees & their shade never spoken for — not. enough. time!
hasty words race through exhaust pipes & rearview mirrors,
the need of light for the poor in the dark resembles an error message —
& through all this bone-cold chaos we call the fabled today,
my voice still seeks to charm & soften stone; to recover the colour of saying.
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For today’ Poetics over at dVerse Poets Pub, Kim invites us to read three poems by dead poets and write a response poem to one of the three options. I chose Dylan Thomas’ wonderful poem Once It Was the Colour of Saying. Come on over and join us at the bar!
dVerse
(Incorpo)real
I have already been
to the bottom of the deep sea —
it is a lonely place, but
the speechless spectres
are as tall as houses
in the dark,
even silence has a voice &
the relentless tides
tear mercilessly
at your softened seams
minutes feel like miles
beneath the heavy waves —
& never will I know
how I found the courage
to make it back to shore.
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It’s Open Link Night over at dVerse Poets Pub. Grab a poem and come join us at the Bar!
The image was created by using the AI Art Generator at Imagine Art.
A Closer Look
Not all doors close with a ‘bang!‘. Sometimes it happens quietly — the last deed at the end of a dying day, when you feel utterly powerless & have nothing left to give. You close that door gently, silently — not knowing what the Dark will hold for you, but too drained to do anything but listen to the uninhabited silence.
Alexander Graham Bell once said, “When one door closes, another one opens, but we so often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us.”
Today, I got lucky. Today, another door opened for me. I know that door — have known that door — and I did not expect to see it open ever again. To be greeted with such warmth and familiarity after so many years, so many (recent) desolate days — is beautiful beyond measure. There is a balance between Dark & Light, that we may not always be fortunate enough to see. Today, I got lucky. Today, I saw.
equinox still lives
in nature’s firm handshake &
hides in our own hearts.
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Over at dVerse Poets Pub, Frank Tassone invites us to explore the equinox for Haibun Monday. This is my attempt. Come one over and join us at the bar!
B-Movie
rain falls in pieces &
your story gets soaked on
the teary set of
one more silent movie —
tall words, devoid of sound
the pantomime gets locked
in sightless, sinful signs —
flooding its strained voice;
fearfully watching for
sinister end credits.
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At dVerse Poets Pub, Grace invites us to write a Flamenca or Seguidilla Gitana (a variation of the Seguidilla). It is stanzaic (written in quintains), syllabic, (6-6-5-6-6 syllables per line to imitate the rapid click of the heels of a dancer), lines 2 and 5 assonate.
This is my attempt. Come on over and join us at the bar!
Abrupt Endings
no life to live
in shattered places —
where hope gets smashed
by lithic lies
no life to love
in shattered places —
just frigid stone &
mournful cries
no love to live
in shattered places —
(no) war(mth) will spring
from marble hearts
an unfinished chapter.
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44 words
Over at dVerse Poets Pub, De Jackson invites us to write a Quadrille (a poem consisting of exactly 44 words, not including the title) & include the word “smash”. Come on over & join us at the bar!
The image was created by using the AI Art Generator at Imagine Art.
Night|in|gale
in the small hours I scream in silence &
plead beneath the starry sky;
toothbrush clenched in one wilting hand, the other
brushing aside yet another pallid tear
I ask the night
to change.
something.
anything!
that your image might grow pale &
I can pretend to not (always)
feel you —
at the edge of my life
I blink &
a sentient shooting star
leaves a shy promise
imprinted on my irises.
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For today’s Poetics over at dVerse Poets Pub, Lisa invites us to write a poem about semiotics, the study of signs and symbols and their use or interpretation. I chose to write about an emotionally very rough night I experienced recently. Fortunately, it
had a silver lining.
Come on over and join us at the bar!
Cryofracture
stay with me in the bitter cold —
let our breaths crystallize & shatter the
ice that holds our words captive.
venture with me, breathless, into warmer waters —
elude the long-fingered shadows that
rise, relentlessly & drag you down — to the bottom of your (di)sea(se).
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44 words
Over at dVerse Poets Pub, Kim invites us to write a Quadrille (a poem consisting of exactly 44 words, not including the title) & include the word “sliver” – I chose to write an acrostic poem… hope, this counts. Come on over & join us at the bar!
S(low L)ane
daybreak is quiet now
on these weathered plains
where I spend my days but
not my nights
transforming tenacious dreams to
hour-long breaths seems
existential, but impossible
rather than being stuck here,
on this desolate road to god-knows-where,
another day could pass &
drag my feet where I need to be.
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It’s Open Link Night over at dVerse Poets Pub. Grab a poem and come join us at the Bar!
The image was created by using the AI Art Generator at Imagine Art.
(Out)Grown
we never outgrew that bed we slept in together —
huddled beneath that mound of blankets;
rain, sunshine & snow taking seasonal turns knocking
on that damp camper’s always fogged-up window
we outgrew each other for a while &
took time settling into who we were —
away from that dissonant place where
I was branded the broken one &
You grew up on the sidelines
You once told me, You had always looked up to me —
I am not sure
if I ever was the taller one.
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For today’s Poetics over at dVerse Poets Pub, Punam Sharma invites us to write about siblings.
Come on over and join us at the bar!
Once In A Blue Moon
At times, I think of you. Not in a romantic sense, but the Pristine Blue of your eyes seems to cling to my memory. I remember my reflection in those eyes of yours – seeing myself with an unexpected clarity; not feeling uncomfortably naked for the first time in my life.
I do believe there is a path through the rubble; through the lamentations of these wayward souls. I do believe, there is an ebb & flow to our existence; to who and what we are – at certain points in time. I find myself turning towards you, as surely as the tides turn. That is all I know.
our naked souls course
through dust and barren houses
once in a blue moon
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Over at dVerse Poets Pub, Frank Tassone invites us to experience the Super Blue Moon for Haibun Monday. This is my attempt. Come one over and join us at the bar!
Diaphanous Days
on a stray day in January,
we churned those spineless hours &
a somber glow still emerged from
the deadwood of our warmest regards
you held me so tight that day —
with everything you had (to offer)
two weeks later,
we scattered
unintended ashes.
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44 words
Over at dVerse, De Jackson invites us to write a Quadrille (a poem consisting of exactly 44 words, not including the title) & include some form of the word “pine”. Come on over & join us at the bar!
State Of The (E)art(h)
do you feel famine where straining hearts falter?
do you see signs of once sanguine souls?
do you sell purpose to polarized patrons?
do you breathe life into badgering bones?
when did we all start to stifle true voices?
when did we all start to look past today?
when did we all start to care for the careless?
when did the meaning of life get away?
do you feel famine where straining hearts falter?
do you see signs of once sanguine souls?
do you have hope for the songs of the hopeless?
or do you feel helpless, tied down and alone?
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Over at dVerse, Björn Rudberg invites us to experiment with rhetorical devices.
This is my attempt.
Come on over and join us at the bar!
The Long Hours
She had ribbons in her hair. Purple velvet, nested in a sea of auburn.
Small amethyst beads around her neck glowed softly in the lantern light, in tune with her radiant smile. Her dress billowed as she danced to the sole violin’s tune, her tangible laughter sweet music to his ears.
They fell in love beneath the stars — and love, in all its forms, guided them throughout the years, until auburn turned gray, turned white.
When she left, his heart went with her.
On this November day, traffic holding its breath, sky a tense diaphragm; there is no warmth left in the sun. He gently touches amethyst beads with callused fingers, as he gazes at the day’s last shadow; at everything and nothing at all.
The tea in his tin cup has gone cold and his longing counts the hours, until they meet again.
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144 words
Over at dVerse, Kim invites us to write a short piece of flash fiction (no more than 144 words) including the lines ‘Traffic holding its breath, Sky a tense diaphragm’ from the poem “Twice Shy” by Seamus Heaney. Bring your story and come join us at the bar!
The image was created by using the AI Art Generator at Imagine Art.
Teenage Years
once, I washed my face in uniformity
and my smile
popped out of its splintered frame.
I drew it back on —
it was crooked and
a little lopsided, too
it never quite matched the one I lost —
again,
I was the odd one out.
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44 words
Over at dVerse, Michelle Beauchamp invites us to write a Quadrille (a poem consisting of exactly 44 words, not including the title) & use the word “pop” or a form of the word. Come on over & join us at the bar!
Freefall
the day we could have jumped together
you had other things to do —
so I wound up at the rocky bottom
of (a brandnew) today,
lit a match & started walking;
while you stayed in the past, looking on.
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It’s Open Link Night over at dVerse… grab a poem and come join us at the bar!
Another Wandering Soul 