like and unlike

Written for:  The Twiglets #85 – “unlike my mother”

She thought of herself
as being unlike
her mother. With age,
each time she started
speaking, her mother’s
voice emerged.

“You are not unlike
your mother.”
She did not know
if this was meant
as a compliment.

She is nothing like my mother, he claimed,
more demure, does not curse or place blame
He took her to dinner
where she proved a sinner
swilled drinks, and cursed–same as the old dame.

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Written for:  dVerse Poets Pub – Quadrille #60 – Itch   (posted by Grace)
“To kick off this week’s celebration, we will play with the theme of “7”, (hint, hint). Do you have that itch to write after a hiatus? Do you have an unscratched itch? Do you believe in the 7 year itch? Do you have an itchy feet and want to hitchhike across the country? I hope you are itching to play our Quadrille today.”


Like an itch that cannot be scratched,
she longs to break free of numbing
idleness. Get out and live. Life has
its own ideas, throwing unpleasant
surprises one after another. She feels
plotted against, thwarted at each
attempt. She writes, she draws,
she dreams.


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Picnic Day

Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #360

Words:  simple, gravel, edge, low, tight, path, climb, knots, trim, spread, spray, pattern

She wears a simple, lace-edged
shirt, patterned with sprays
of violets scattered
across collar and cuffs,
knotted at her trim waist.

Climbing a white graveled
path, she holds tightly
to a woven basket laden
with blueberry
and a jar of lemon

curd for spreading.
Low light of pale sun peeks
through maples. Perfect day
for a picnic.

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Written for:  Haiku Horizons

tightly knit life
stitched with love and respect

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sunday breakfast

Written for:  Carpe Diem #1471 – Summer Breakfast


bubbles dance at edge of glass
Sunday breakfast toast

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Written for:  Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads – Weekend Mini-Challenge
Fussy Little Forms:  Tricube  (posted by Marian)

This weekend in the Garden, let’s try a short form that’s less fussy and more adorable. It’s called the TRICUBE and the rules are super-simple:

Each line contains three syllables,
Each stanza contains three lines, and
Each poem contains three stanzas.

grace and poise
though a myth

They frolic
in meadows
inside dreams

is a place
where I live

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Written for:  Carpe Diem #1470 A Wild Ride, the story of the Batavia


Batavia shipyard at Lelystad The Netherlands (photo © Chèvrefeuille)

The above image shows how the Batavia rests at our coast just around the corner were I live. It’s a wonderful ship and it’s open for the public. I have been on it several times and for sure it feels like you are back in time, but the story behind the Batavia isn’t something to be proud on as Dutch people.

alive again
after the summer storm
strong rose

© Chèvrefeuille (experimental haiku)

Here is my attempt:

trapped in cave
water high in cold space
rescued boys stand strong



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pale moon

Written for:  Carpe Diem Weekend Meditation #40 – Weekend Meditation
Sparkling Stars . . . “the autumn of full moon”

“Sparkling Stars is a bit similar with the CD-Specials, but there is a little difference. I will introduce a ‘masterpiece’ of one of the classic haiku-poets (well-known and less-known) to inspire you to write a new haiku. Here is the difference with the CD-Specials. Those new haiku, inspired on the ‘masterpiece’, have to follow the classical rules of haiku:”

1. 5-7-5 syllables
2. a kigo (or seasonword)
3. a kireji (or cutting word, in Western languages mostly interpunction)
4. a moment as short as the sound of a pebble thrown into water
5. a deeper meaning (could be Zen-Buddhistic or other spiritual or religious thought)
6. and the first and the third line are interchangeable.

the night deepens
darker and darker the sky
without the streetlights
the night sky looks like a light show
the full moon and thousands of stars

© Chèvrefeuille (our host)

the autumn full moon:
all night long
I paced round the lake.

© Basho

tears of joy
spilled into the old pond –
the moon’s reflection

© Chèvrefeuille

Here is my attempt:

pale moon of winter
difficult to see tonight
under clouds of snow

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Lonely Raven

Written for:  Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads – Artistic Interpretations with Margaret
“Perhaps you can place yourself within the painting… or have your poem take on the qualities of the animals Toril has so masterfully painted. Maybe make up a story and take on a unique voice that is pure fiction.”


Credt: Toril Fisher Fine Art

Yeah, she left me.  Flew off
with some young bird
who doesn’t have all
his feathers yet. I am
nothing to rave about,
strips of white streaking
my head and back. She is
no spring bird either;
she plucks her whites.
Well, a guy’s gotta eat,
and I am ravenous. Guess
it will be rodent for one.

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City of Colors

Written for:  Poets United Midweek Motif~City  (posted by Sumana)
“In the eyes of a poet what would a busy city look like? A dream or a nightmare?”

A city stays in your heart,
grabs a seat in your brain,
rains romance and sorrow.
Wherever you grow up, all
faces look familiar, even
if they are strangers.

New York City is a kaleidoscope
of color, buildings, art. Illumined
in evening, city lures you in
like a side-show barker. See
my lights, feel my promise.
Are you game? Under daylight,
cement sidewalks glitter
as gems. Window displays
are arranged for browsing. Your
pulse quickens, electricity charges
the air. Scents from coffee
houses, bakeries, and restaurants
fill your nostrils, grumble your

In all the times I have been away
from my city, there was never
a time I didn’t feel its pulse

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