Written for: Poetic Bloomings2 – InForm Poet
“Today we get playful. Once again we work the Limerick. The nonsensical feel of these ditties remain to touch a heart, a head or funny bone.”
There was a young woman named Maudie
considered to be most naughty
A free spirit, said she,
my sexuality
gives me pleasure in varied localities
Written for: Poetic Asides #517 – Write a haunted poem.
He combed bookstores and libraries
haunted by her voice like honey.
Their parting was still a mystery.
He combed bookstores and libraries
hoping to find her in reverie
waiting to resume their harmony.
He combed bookstores and libraries
haunted by her voice like honey.
Written for: Carpe Diem #1814 – Lost Love
Lost Love
rainy day
tears become one with puddles
new moon
© Chèvrefeuille (our host)
Here is my attempt:
waves of water
soak a white party dress
tears of love lost
Written for: dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics: Impermanence (posted by Merrill)
“About a week ago, on a windy day, the sky seemed to change every few minutes. Rain to clearing to grey clouds to sunshine. It struck me not just how changeable the weather is, but how impermanent everything is. Buildings topple, land erodes into the sea, and even stars eventually die. Of course, this is not an original or profound idea.”
“So, today for Poetics, I’d like you to think about impermanence, things that are transient, or things that have passed their time. If you want to stick to the seasons, nature, or the weather, that’s fine, but I’d like to challenge you to try to come up with something different or unusual.”
From albums to tapes to CDs
keeping up is never a breeze.
From manual to electric to iPads
I have neck cramps, and it’s not a fad.
Things that are now antiques
include me and my skills–obsolete.
Written for: The Twiglets #165 – “dripping clay”
Strange sculpture
of elongated man
looks like dripping clay
The empty canvas sat on the floor
as the artist dripped splotches
of clay here and there.
turtles, bunnies, dogs
children having fun molding
clay animals
There was a young man from Bombay
content years while his poor fiancé
waited and waited
for marriage, frustrated
said I’m done, you have feet of clay.
Written for: dVerse Poets Pub – Quadrille #98 – “Peelings, Nothing More . . .”
(Posted by Mish)
“Recently a dear friend told me that her life feels like an onion. Just when she thinks her world has become fairly intact again, another layer loosens and breaks away, exposing a new challenge to face. I thought it was an effective analogy. Darn, life is hard sometimes isn’t it? These “peelings” can leave us scarred but can also open us up to reveal the fibers of our being we didn’t know existed inside of us.”
“Today I offer you the word “peel” to include in your quadrille.”
His red motorcycle
peeled off–showoff–hear how
loud my engine is? Calls
attention to himself,
loses respect of others,
bikers included. Must be
exhilarating to ride, wind
in your face, chasing
in and out of lanes. Can’t
you do that without
loud noise?
Written for: Poetic Bloomings2 – Prompt #283 – Betting The Over/Under
‘Use the word “over” in your title or poem and/or Use the word “under”.’
In clear sea-green water
you can see your toes, but
suppose you were out
in greater depths, what
could you see of
the world that lies
underneath? Species
of fish you have never
seen before, like giant
spider crabs, or false-
jellyfish–beautiful, blue
and deadly. Look for
anemones, coral, and sponges.
A whole word of exotic creatures
and wild colors are nature’s
gift to you.
Written for: Carpe Diem Tan Renga Wednesday #14 – Wisteria Beans
wisteria beans
let’s make that a theme for haikai
a flower fruit © Basho (Tr. Jane Reichhold)
like an avocado
eat that creamy fruit, plant pit © Sara McNulty
http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.com/
Written for: Carpe Diem #1813 – Love At First Sight
one heartbeat
her wonderful smile
a blanket of love
© Chèvrefeuille (our host)
Here is my attempt:
eyes locked in embrace
introduction magnetic
lust at first sight
Written for: The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #444
Words: spear, design, line, bite, child, mine, trace, green, relish, chase, fine, lace
Not a trace
of fine lace
on this child
of mine. Her
designer’s wear:
baseball cap
and sweats. Have
to chase her down
for a bath.
She stands in line,
mouth watering
for a bite of
a hotdog piled
with alien green
relish, and pickle
spears. Wants to
be a ballplayer.
Not a trace
of fine lace.
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Gabriela M Author of the Year (2019) at Spillword Press NYC
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