A Campsite Too Far

Written for:  Sunday Muse #229
I think I'm going to throw up!

I told you I have to pee.  You need
to find a rest stop NOW!

Mom, Sally's picking her nose again.

Am not!

Jeez, whose idea was it to go camping?
I am not a camping type of pooch.  I like
sniffing around my own neighborhood.  Everyone
knows me, pets me, gives me treats.  Beats
being stuck in this car, traveling to a place too far
away, with a bunch of grimy, whining kids.  A shampoo and
brushing wouldn't go amiss.  I am not at all happy.

http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub-MTB: Two by Two
(posted by Laura Bloomsbury)

"And so for today’s poetry prompt it’s all about couples, twos, in other words couplets!"

1. The Cote – a poem of uneven couplets attributed to John Schroeder. L1 being a single imperative verb, L2 is a glossing or expansion of L1. Rhyme and meter is of your own choosing. More info here

 For example:

Mingle,
Mix and blend, enjoy the place

Meet,
Chance upon receptive face

Here are my attempts:

Marry,
Co-joining independence

Sleep,
Sweet dreams of fancy

Discuss,
Each person allowed their own view

Hold,
Your eyes hypnotize me


https://dversepoets.com/


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A Spicy Love

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics:  Spicing it Up
(posted by Merril)

"On dVerse live last week, we were talking about magnetic poetry, and so today I’m going to give you a list of words. Only instead of all the tabs on the magnetic poetry site, this list is all herbs, spices, and flavorings."

"I’ve chosen twenty-five herbs, spices, flavors, and spice combinations—A to Z. Pick at least three for your poem. Use more if you so desire. You may also choose one of the words or phrases for your title."

Aleppo Pepper
Arizona Dreaming
Basil
Cinnamon
Coriander
Cumin
Dill
Fennel seed
Garam Masala
Ginger
Krakow Nights
Lemongrass
Mulling spices
Mural of flavor
Mustard Seeds
Nutmeg
Paprika
Saffron
Sea salt
Sesame Seeds
Sunny Paris
Thyme
Tuscan Sunset
Vanilla
Zatar


You are the cinnamon
and nutmeg in my
pumpkin pie.  Sigh.
You ginger me
on Krakow Nights.
Your saffron colors
me in paprika glow. So,
let us go, and witness
a vanilla-scented
Tuscan sunset.

https://dversepoets.com/




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“a bright shadow”

Written for:  The Twiglets #297 - a bright shadow


As the steely shadows
slid upwards, a bright
rainbow filled the sky.


On a night wall,
shadowy figures 
slipped through,
leaving in their wake
bright halo of an angel.


autumn tree
dressed in brilliant colors
chases shadows away


           The shadow wished to have color
           thinking it would become fuller.
               Yellow leaf said, oh no,
                that is no way to go.
      You'll stand out like me, and dry up duller.

https://thetwiglets.wordpress.com/
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Punch-alated

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub, Quadrille #160: 
Poem that pack a punch  (posted by whimsygizmo)

"In case you can’t tell, today I’m feeling a little punchy. I’m after the perfect poetic punchline. So grab your word punching bag and get started. Turn a punch recipe into a refreshing poem. Holepunch your way into the lyrical universe, and dive right in. Don’t pull any punches; I want you to punch that writer’s block timeclock and just go for it."


He was punch-drunk,
smelled of skunk.
His head went clunk!
He was in a funk.
He knew he’d flunk
the test–be sunk.
He’d pack a trunk,
filled with his junk,
like jeans, preshrunk,
and his music, punk.
Maybe he’d become a monk.

https://dversepoets.com/
Posted in Purple's Home | 19 Comments

Aromatics

Written for:  Poetic Bloommings2 - Prompt #404
The Fall of Autumn

"Your poem will present the essence of autumn, full of descriptive language and imagery. Replete with the colorful sights and aromas. However, your poem will NOT contain the words Fall or Autumn anywhere in your verse. Not in the body and not in the title."


Aromatic apple cider
freshly pressed,
perfumes the air,
delights the tongue.
Plump orange
pumpkins await
picking and pies.
There's a chill
in the air.  Perhaps
a light jacket 
is needed to shoot
hoops across the street
where caramel, burgundy,
and mustard shades
float in a free-form
mosaic.

https://poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com/ 
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Duality

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #570

Words:  eyes, rattle, word, time, longer, pills, search,
        know, game, normal, box, sweet


What's your game?
I would love to know.
You eyes search
my face, your sweetness
charms me, disarms me.
As I begin to feel
a normal comfort 
from you, a box springs
open.  Time tumbles
out in unkind words,
looks of scorn, hisses
of a rattler.  Your two
personalities plague me.
Do you swallow potent
pills, not unlike the liquid
evil ingested by Jekyll,
and Hyde?  Think I need
to be otherwise occupied.
Bye-bye.

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/ 
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Who Resides In The Mirror?

Written for:  Sunday Muse #228

"Venture through the vintage images and choose the one that speaks the loudest to your muse.  I look forward to seeing where they lead you!"

Photo by Alfred Eisenstaedt
What were you expecting
to see–the wealthy
socialite with her 
superior air, perfect
hair, and insincere
smile?  Shame.  What
can I say, sweetheart,
you are gazing at
the real you–chandeliers
cannot lie.  Small
satisfaction, wealth,
if you are joyless,
and unfulfilled.  That
pinched look, pursed
lips, and steely eyes
display everything you are
inside.

http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/
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Unsolved Puzzle

Written for:  Friday Writings #44 - To Err Is Human

"For this week’s optional prompt, I invite you to write about a time when we realized we were wrong about something, and what we did after the realization hit us."


Sometimes signs flash
past us too quickly
to take notice.
Moving does not
automatically 
make life better.

After hearing
constant complaints–
shoveling snow, cold
weather, hating New York–
I could not bear
the talk, talk, talk 
any longer.  I was happy

with my home, but
never one to contemplate,
I agreed to relocate
across the country.  He
developed quirks.
I chose to ignore them.
After the move, changes
in behavior forced me to look.

All friends and family
were in New York.  I needed
support, and finally made
that tough decision to
pack up and move back.
Turns out he was glad.
Although I had to do
all the packing,
and arrangements, I knew
it was for the best.

These last five years
have brought chaos,
fear, and many tears.
I am home.  My sister
is here.  Life remains
an unsolved puzzle.

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/          
   
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Arms Of A Tree

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - The strange houses of Lee Madgwick
(posted by sarahsouthwest)

"Choose an image and write a poem inspired by it."

Lee Madgwick
My dream of warmth
and comfort was
to be enfolded
in a tree's embrace.
I did not expect
my source of security
to infiltrate my house, 
and suffocate me.

https://dversepoets.com/
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*Are You Experienced?

Written for:  Go Dog Go Cafe - Tuesday Writing Prompt
(posted by Devereaux and Beth)

"Write a poem using the words 'depth' and 'chemicals'.


He offered her
an experience
of great depth.
She turned
him down.  Said,
'I don't do
chemicals'.

*Nod to Jimi Hendrix for title

https://godoggocafe.com/
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“unlit”

Written for:  The Twiglets - unlit


Inky shadow figures
crept unseen
across the unlit room.


Once fires
of passion spark
they cannot be unlit.


train stops short
white mountains fill background
lights go out


           He liked to smoke a fine cigar
        with friends and a scotch at the bar.
              He once had a date
             but it was his fate–
   she abhorred cigars, choked, and said 'No fumar'.

https://thetwiglets.wordpress.com/
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Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 - Prompt #403 - Living On The Edge

"We’re looking over the edge to write our poems this week. Edge of sanity, edge of reason or the edge of a ledge, what fuels your poetry? Give us a view from your lofty position. It’s true. We’re living on the edge."


Blackness waits.
She stands at the edge.
A quick step,
footing lost
would send her spiraling down
if she could but choose.

Hovering
at the precipice
wondering
what she'd lose
besides herself.  Why isn't
that reason enough?

https://poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com/
 
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Steep Climb

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #569

Words:  regret, agile, bees, present, face, rocking, teeth,
        wasted, climb, crack, tenacious, journey


Oh the regrets she felt
from being tenacious
to a fault.  Not a moment
wasted in her climb
to the top.  Not a crack
in her armor or the face
she presented to the outside
world.  The apex she sought
now held loneliness; she had
cultivated no friends
on her journey.  Teeth set
in permanent grimace,
she rocked back and forth
on her plush office chair
aware of the gossip 
in the hallways.  "Thinks
she's the bees knees, that
one.'  Her agile mind
had made a stellar impression
only on the powerful pundits,
and herself.


https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/
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Losing A Friend

Written for:  Sunday Muse #227

"This week is a double theme.  It is in tribute to Queen Elizabeth II and American Chess Day is Sept 1st.  I had some chess moves in images saved for one week. So here we are! I also know that this weekend is the 21 year anniversary of Sept 11th.  My heart goes out to the families and friends that lost someone that day.  I will never forget that day and where I was.  If anyone wants to share about where they were that day when they heard the news, I would love to hear your story."


Blue
skies.
I'm late,
stuck on bus
at mouth of tunnel
because dog refused to come in.
I'm staring out window at Building One where I work.
Flames in the air crash into my building.  I watch it crumble kicking dust in the air.  
We stare.  Bus stops.  I would have been at my desk.
From seat, I see Building Two burn, collapsing like a cardboard dollhouse.  For days I check listings.
I stay glued to TV set, waiting.  His name does not appear on list of people found alive.  I see other names of people I know–gone.  His body is never discovered.  At funeral, a picture stands on an easel.

http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/


Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , , , , | 25 Comments

Toxic People

Written for:  Friday Writings #43:  Toxic Love

"Write poetry inspired by the concept of "toxic love".


There are intelligent women
whose heads get to spinnin'
when a strong personality man
captivates them, they extend their hand
only to discover his need
to control her every opinion, deed,
and sometimes even her appearance–
all without asking for clearance.
Her reluctance to marry makes him coax
her ceaselessly with master strokes.
She relents, swept along for the haul.
Suddenly personality man stalls.
He cheats on her; he tells her it's over.
She is stunned.  Was he merely a poser?
In time she sees he'd stolen her essence.
She regains herself, finds she has substance.

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/
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My Truth

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Meeting The Bar with Aphorisms
(posted by Bjorn)

"Today I wanted us to write aphorisms.

Even is you don’t know it, you probably use aphorisms in your everyday life, in your writing as well as with friends.

According to the definition, an aphorism is a statement that presents a moral or philosophical idea. It does that with a pithy statement that expresses something general idea of the world by for instance being a metaphor.

Take for example: “The grass is always greener on the other side (of the fence)”

Make up your own aphorism or use an established one.  Note where it came from."


Do not take other people's truths as your own.

Opinion offerred 
then another.  Now
you are conflicted.
One does not agree
with the other.  Could  
it be that both 
are wrong?  Listen
to your heart and gut.
Figure out your own truth.

https://dversepoets.com/

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Ethereal

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics:  There's a Word For That
(posted by Mish) - neologisms

"Choose 3 or more of the above words and include them in a poem of any style. You may want to use one of the words as your title and springboard off of it as a theme, but that is up to you. Besides the words in memes you can also choose from any words in bold type within this prompt. Are you ready to get a little wordy without sounding like a *sesquipedalian?"

*can be used to describe someone or something that overuses big words, like a philosophy professor or a chemistry textbook.


A belle âme, 
she was said 
to possess,
though not
an aliferous
being.  Her
querencia was
sand and ocean,
susurrus sound
that brought
her ease.  Here,
she found 
her true self.

https://dversepoets.com/  
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Control Anxiety

Written for:  Go Dog Go Cafe - Tuesday Writing Prompt
(posted by Devereaux and Beth)

"Write a poem using the words 'control' and 'undermined'."


Upset by situations
over which I have 
no control.  My
anxiety level rises.
I feel a force 
is out there, 
determined to
undermine me.  Then,
I perceive paranoia
hovering, because 
I cannot see 
this strange force, 
and dare not
mention it to others.

https://godoggocafe.com/
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“soft as eggs”

Written for:  The Twiglets #295 - soft as eggs


My grandparents ate
soft-boiled eggs.
Looked like diseased,
dripping eyes.


She always egged on
her soft-spoken,
timid friend.


sits admiring
garden, and brilliant-hued birds
soft blue of robin's egg


          He mercilessly egged his friend on
            to the stage for Karaoke song.
                After many beers
           his friend felt less fear,
    so he grabbed mic without fright, and bombed.

https://thetwiglets.wordpress.com/
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Always Carry A Clipboard

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille #159
(posted by msjadeli)

Learn to Labor - or is it Labor to Learn?

"In the United States, we honor laborers today, which made it easy to choose the word we will write to: work. I boldly claim that each person reading this is intimately acquainted with work, starting with (by proxy) when our mothers gave birth to us."


She was not a workaholic 
but you’d never guess.
A fast-paced walk
in a no-nonsense suit,
shoes to match, 
and most importantly,
a large clipboard with
pen. She always managed
to look busy and besieged
at the same time. 
Had ‘em fooled.

https://dversepoets.com/

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Moon-flooded Stars

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2
Prompt #402 - Cosmos

"Let's look to the cosmos–planets, stars, asteroids,
comets, light, life."


Shimmery stars light
up my life.  Best
when backed by
a moon of fullness.
A spoonful of
comfort to aid
in darkest
of times.  A 
sublime sky
takes you
out of yourself
to a place that
is not in your
control.

https://poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com/
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Sweetness vs. Majesty

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #568

Words:  face, map, check, hope, vast, stillness, sparrows,
        kiss, pulpit, lack, silent, whisper


You whisper into
silent stillness,
your hopeful face
a vast map 
of emotions 
you cannot
hold in check.  
I burn for fire
and brimstone
kisses, like 
preachings from
a pulpit.  You
are sweet as a
sparrow in Spring,
but you lack 
the majesty 
of an eagle.

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/
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Scenting

Written for:  Sunday Muse #226

I am a red fox (not a
Redd Foxx).  We have
different senses
of humor.  Speaking
of senses, did you
know that we canines
have a fifty times
greater sense of
smell than humans?
When I inhale this
miracle of nature,
my nostrils quiver
with joy.  Stem,
leave, petals–all
possess an ambrosia
of distinct perfumes.
Ain't canines lucky?

http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/
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Bitter Choice

Written for:  Friday Writings #42 - Choices & dVerse Poets Pub 


Menu choices dizzy,
the mind–too busy.
Clothing is generally
age-related, how to
style up without looking
clown-like.
Beach or mountains?
Cabins or hotels with fountains?
Choose an occupation 
that will promote elation.
As we age, choices become
a serious matter–voices
in your head, and outside
are versed verbally by others
whom you consider wise.  But,
it comes down to you,
and what you can live with.
There is another person.
You hope not to worsen 
your life or his.
Safety blows its whistle
like a lifeguard on duty.
He declines, wanders,
falls, loses words,
and balance.  Now it
becomes a challenge.
He slips, you fade–
face drawn, pounds
falling off your body 
like dead flower petals.
Impossible to keep up
with it all.  Mentally,
you fall, stall on
decisions until the most
painful choice must be
voiced by you.  Accompanying
pain stabs at your gut,
and brain, questions your
mind as now you find
you're on your own.  The old
choices seem petty,
and you do not have a menu.

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/
Posted in Purple's Home | 21 Comments

A Bitter Choice

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics:  Choice
              (posted by guest host:  Christopher Reilley)
              and for:  Friday Writings #42


"And so fellow word wrestlers, you have the choice to craft a poem in any style, form, meter, syntax, rhyme scheme, line length, or formatting – having to do with the concept of choice."


Menu choices dizzy,
the mind–too busy.
Clothing is generally
age-related, how to
style up without looking
clown-like.
Beach or mountains?
Cabins or hotels with fountains?
Choose an occupation 
that will promote elation.
As we age, choices become
a serious matter–voices
in your head, and outside
are versed verbally by others
whom you consider wise.  But,
it comes down to you,
and what you can live with.
There is another person.
You hope not to worsen 
your life or his.
Safety blows its whistle
like a lifeguard on duty.
He declines, wanders,
falls, loses words,
and balance.  Now it
becomes a challenge.
He slips, you fade–
face drawn, pounds
falling off your body 
like dead flower petals.
Impossible to keep up
with it all.  Mentally,
you fall, stall on
decisions until the most
painful choice must be
voiced by you.  Accompanying
pain stabs at your gut,
and brain, questions your
mind as now you find
you're on your own.  The old
choices seem petty,
and you do not have a menu.

https://dversepoets.com/2022/08/30/poetics-choice/
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“a dark wall”

Written for:  The Twiglets #294 - a dark wall


All lights
were neon
bright, flashing
against a black wall.


Darkened by shadows,
the wall was the only
way she could feel
her way home.


surrounded by
dark walls of stone
her own private cave


He had one wall painted dark red
Nothing more about it was said
'til she went to see him
saw altar, him kneelin'
front of black candles, 'neath row of shrunken heads.

https://thetwiglets.wordpress.com/
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Almost A Bride

Written for:  The Sunday Muse #225


Surreal Photo, manipulations by Justin Peters
This waterfall
is a flowing flood
of my tears.
I float in it,
or it floats
in me.  If
my eyes should
ever dry again,
this waterfall
will disappear.

http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , , | 10 Comments

The Quiet Inside

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Haibun Monday: Give Me Shelter
(posted by Mish)

"Shelter could be nothing but a quick escape from the noise of the world. However, in times of poverty, homelessness, war, violence, shelter is everything. Shelter can be described from the forest floor or from the depths of our hearts and minds where we often need a safe place to reset, to nourish, to grow."


These days I take shelter inside myself.  Eyes closed,
I meditate, trying to find a place of quiet contentment.
Screaming noise dominates the world, my head, my life.

Often I become distracted, allowing outside events
to seep in like black clouds.  Those are times I wish
an ancient tree would enfold me, and keep me safe.

     storm pummels tin roof
     nothing is heard inside
     her music is soft snow

https://dversepoets.com/  
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There’s a Hum

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 - Prompt #401
The Sound of Silence

"Silence has a sound. It is up to us to describe that sound. What do you hear as the sound of silence? Is it eerily strange or quietly cacophonous? What sounds do you consider silent? Take the challenge and make us hear the noise!"


There's a hum,
sounds of an old house.
You wonder
if spirits
are whispering through walls, or
purely a soft wind.

https://poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com/
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Steadfast

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #567

Words:  night, growl, mountains, erase, until, firm,
        challenged, build, try, breathes, skin, regrets


At night you can hear
the mountains breathing,
erasing all other
sounds, until a growl
builds.  The lion tries
to challenge, its firm
skin stretched tight
from corners of
his mouth. To his
regret, the mountain
remains standing.

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/
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Only The Deserving

Written for:  Friday Writings #41

"Create a piece from POV of a television character."


Have to take notice.
Who will avenge
these senseless,
horrific murders
if not me.  My dark
passenger rides
with me, guides me.
Harry's voice is
always in my head,
'Don't kill innocent
people.'  My last kill–
pictures of his victims
taped up facing him–was
a brutal guy whose prey
was children and teenage
girls.  What a rush
I got after the kill.
I work for the Miami
Police Department.  I am
a blood spatter expert.

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/

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Cheesy Shoes

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics:  A World of Common Scents
Posted by Guest Host:  Worms (Jo from Out of The Cave)

"Write a poem of scents."


Flaky young girl
hired in Summer 
to help me at work.
She was funny,
but honey, that 
odor!  All her shoes,
worn sans stockings,
made their home
under my desk.  
The shoes developed
a life of their own–
soles loosening,
and a ripe pungent 
odor of blue/Stilton
cheese–unpleasing.
We finally resolved this
situation by emptying
out a drawer in the 
files.  She moved 
all the shoes, thought
she was lucky, and smiled.
Never opened that drawer
again.

https://dversepoets.com/


Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , | 10 Comments

Sometimes a Sandwich

Written for:  Go Dog Go Cafe - Tuesday Writing Prompt
(posted by Devereaux and Beth)

"Write a poem answering the question: What is a hero?"


It is sort of
a Sub, Muffaletta,
Hoagy, or Grinder.
From Italian delis
in New York, it is
a Hero.

https://godoggocafe.com/
Posted in Purple's Home | Tagged , , | 3 Comments

“the sky leans”

Written for:  the Twiglets #293 - the sky leans


On some sun-filled
afternoons, the sky
leans on sun's shoulders.


Clouds vanish
above the ocean;
only a lean, blue
sky is visible.


she tilts her head
at 90ᴰ angle
watches the sky lean


           The woman was lean as a string-bean,
            the rotund man was green with envy.
                 She said do not fret,
                   we are a sure bet
    to balance each other like lox and cream cheese.

https://thetwiglets.wordpress.com/
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Sounds of Morning

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille #158
"Morning Has Broken"  (posted by Linda Lee Lyberg)


Two gray doves coo
on deck railing. 
White-tailed pigeon
struts across roof
of garage.  
A woofing dog
reminds his
humans that
it is time for
his walk.  On 
the block, doors
open and close.
Cars beep 
remotely.  I open
my eyes to morning.

https://dversepoets.com/2022/08/22/quadrille-158-morning-has-broken/


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Enlightenment

Written for:  Friday Writings #40 - Lists in Ink

"Write poetry that includes a list."

Since I cannot obtain
happiness by enlightenment–
requires more time than
I have–thinking of places
and people I love is
a more practical solution.
So I give you:

. my savior sister
. cousins alive and dead
. the few friends I have left
. animals always
. oceans and beaches
. writing 

At least I can still think.

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/
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Bar Study

Written for:  Sunday Muse #224

A thinking man in a Turkish meyhane (A traditional bar) in Istanbul by Ara Guler
Look at that 
young man 
at the bar,
thin coat
in Winter.  
Young people 
do not feel 
the cold.  Thick
head of black hair,
face smiling
in comfort.  Once,
that was me.  
Oh yes.  No one
would believe 
it now.  Here
I sit, Winter-coated,
hair thinned, face
drawn in wrinkles
of years.  I already
know what he has 
yet to learn.

http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/
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Too Much, Too Soon

Written for:  Go Dog Go Cafe - Tuesday Writing Prompt
(posted by Devereaux and Beth)

"Write a poem using "in the beginning".


A myriad of characters
were introduced
in the beginning
of the book.  Without
stand-out descriptions,
she was forced to flip
back and forth in
an attempt to sort
them out before
the book ended.

https://godoggocafe.com/
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“it’s a stretch”

Written for:  The Twiglets #292 - it's a stretch


One size 
does not 
fit all.  
Clothing
will hang
on someone thin,
squeeze and pinch
someone plump.  
It's a stretch 
to claim
one size fits all.


Did you see that
catch?  What a
super stretch!
He won the game.


stretched like canvas
awe on spectator's faces
pink cotton candy sky


            Stretching too far to catch the baseball,
              he fell out of his seat, took a fall
                   onto a girl's shoulder
                   like a two-ton boulder.
     He called foul, she palmed the ball.  He yelled, what gall!

https://thetwiglets.wordpress.com/
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Cabin Fireplace

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 - Prompt #399
"We Didn't Start The Fire"

"Fire. It has many connotations. From desire to destruction, fire becomes the element that carries the most power. Think of an aspect of fire as your inspiration and let it fuel your burn!"


Years ago, in a cabin
out on Montauk, Long Island,
two couples spent a February
weekend together.  We had
groceries, we had wine,
and reveled in the old
cabin smells of wood, ash,
and age.  Aside from each
other's company, we had
a fireplace.  One night
we used a magical log.
Flames flounced like
ballet dancers.  Autumn
colors appeared on their
tips–orange, mustard,
scarlet, and forest green.
Dancing lights on a 
frosty February night.
Never forgotten.

https://poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com/
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Unfiltered

Written for:  Sunday Whirl, Wordle #565

Words:  mindful, puzzle, ground, judging, filters, mouth, film,
        still, mind, art, breeze, wire


With no filter
in place, 
every thought
in her mind
comes right out
of her mouth. 
She is unable
to be mindful,
artful, since
wiring for empathy 
has been severed.  
Still, do not judge 
her.  She has weathered
many storms, and is
puzzled herself
as to how the film
of her life has run
aground, and why
words escape her like
a passing breeze.

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/
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Journey With Me

Written for:  Sunday Muse #223

Photo by Brooke Shaden on Flickr
My Prussian blue dress echoes
in the star-shined wings
of my companions and helpers,
blue Morpho butterflies.  They
guide me on journeys, lifting
me up into aqua adventures
through night skies.  I nest
on brushes of wheat fields,
always carrying my feather
-light purse that bonds me
to my lovely blue-winged
friends.

http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/
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Burning is Young Love

Written for:  Friday Writings #38 - To Burn

"With all this heat I decided to make this week’s optional prompt “to burn”. What comes up for you when you hear this phrase?"


Burning is young
love.  A fever invades
your body, skin tingles
in anticipation, 
and heart beats Thump! Thump!
loud enough to make you wonder
if others can hear it.  Your
clothes–are they sexy? Are your
armpits and legs shaved
to baby smooth?  Makeup–some,
but not garish.  Hair–freshly
shampooed, shining.  Polished
nails, a spritz of that perfume
you know he loves, and that's
you.  Burning hot!

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/
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Noise of Darkness

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Poetry Form:  Octelle
(posted by Grace)

"The Octelle, created by Emily Romano, is a poem consisting of eight lines using personification and symbolism in a telling manner. The syllable count structure for this verse is 8, 8, 7, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8, and the rhyme scheme is aa/bb/cc/aa. The first two lines and the last two lines are identical."


Rain shouts as it blasts the window,
Steeping room in darkened shadow.
Morning's promise–swept away,
while night laughs, a harpy's bray.
Perhaps chocolate to soothe soul,
cannot hurt, always consoles. 
Rain shouts as it blasts the window,
steeping room in darkened shadow.

https://dversepoets.com/
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“all my days”

Written for:  The Twiglets #291 - all my days


I have no need to count
all the days I have had
so far.  All the days
I have left, I prefer
to leave a mystery.


All my days-a life 
in chapters.


all her days blur
little pinpricks stand out
she does not know why


          Looking back, she's amazed at how life turned out.
           Sometimes she ponders and is filled with doubt
                   that this is her life,
                   not a phase of strife
           that will pass, as if it's just a bad bout.

https://thetwiglets.wordpress.com/ 
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Family of Fonts

Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille #157:  What's Your Type?
(posted by whimsygizmo)

"Shortform poetry is just my type. And in case you haven’t already guessed, today I want you to play with some form of the word type in your piece: typing, typed, typewriter, typography, typist.Archetypal. Type it up in italics, or bold. Regale us about your favorite type of food, or music. Are you a type A personality, or type B? Are you the type who loves to rhyme? Or will you tippity-tap type us something free verse?"


When typing, my favorite font
is Lucinda Grande.  If I choose
to get fancier, I love 
Apple Chancery.  Way back 
to the time of typewriters,
there were no fonts
to choose from, and no
Delete key.  Sadly,
there was also no
choice of color.

https://dversepoets.com/
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Stakeout

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2, Prompt #398 - Sails for Sale
Write a sail (or sale) poem.


Her stakeout was Macy's Franchise.
With eyes like a hawk, she checked tags
for when clothes she liked dropped in price.
Her stakeout was Macy's Franchise.
She waited for sale merchandise,
three markdowns gave her the green flag.
Her stakeout was Macy's Franchise.
With eyes like a hawk, she checked tags.

https://poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com/
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Power of the Sky

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #564

Words:  sparks, sprouting, empty, breathe, sketch, damp, orbit,
        swirl, sisters, stars, art, shadows


Empty soil, parched,
unable to breathe.
The earth swirled
in shadows and dust.
Two sorrowful sisters
prayed for rain. They
had sketched out their
garden artfully, hoping
to have fresh vegetables
for Fall and Winter.
The spark had gone out
of their eyes.  Orbiting  

stars shed silver tears,
the clear skies clouded,
bursting open with rain.
By dawn, the earth was
dark chocolate–damp
and fertile.  The sisters
came outside. Their
astonished faces mirrored
those of their neighbors.
Sprouts were shooting up
like rockets.  It was 
a mysterious, happy
harvest for all.

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/
  
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Love, Intensely

Written for:  Sunday Muse #222

They complain.  I do not look
at the audience much
during a performance.  They
do not feel what I do
when my face touches
the smooth, worn wood
of this magical instrument.
When my hand guides
the bow, I am making 
love to sounds that my
soul produces.

http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/
Posted in Purple's Home | 24 Comments