A Treasure to Keep

                                                                                       1948
  A Treasure to Keep


Somewhere between mountains
palisading -
where rivers
serpentine safely to sea -
I stood once,
unafraid,
on a front porch
Three steps,
pillowed with snow,
down to the yard
-another 50 feet walk
in the whiteness
to the lean-too barn

At age two or three,
I was keen to help
Grandpa milk the cow
from his stool
Crouching down,
squatting,
I knew what to do
my small hands grabbed,
pulled down, and
squirted warm milk
from speckled udders-

bszhhhht,
bszhhhht

into a tin bucket

I learned about
loving life,
where summers tinkled with flower bells
Unaware of chasms
on the way,
storms that would ensue,
my eyes full of wonder,
eggs, chickens,
scent of hay
dreams yet to dream

"Too deep to walk in", said he.

I said, "B-b-b-but Grandpa...
you can carry me!"


Poetics at the pub today dversepoets.com   is about a special memento,

Blowing bubbles

dversepoets.com                            Monday Quadrille



Blowing bubbles,
 light and clear,
breeze barely touches them,
lighten me

Smooth stones between
 fingers,
giggling stream,
murmuring trees calm me

Nature's hush,
 sum of moonlight,
bring out
the mystic in me

Content to feel
 the reality
of life -
like a waterfall
flowing
over me

Crystal Avalanche

Crystal Avalanche by Barbara Andolsek

Walking into my dream,

 a gigantic white avalanche

spraying outward

I am the volcanic explosion

of a white mountain

Angry, my lungs scream

my chest aches;

impelled to escape the turmoil 

of my existence thus far

Voices scoff and scorn me

to never come back;

forces pluck at me, pull me apart 

like pork, rip my body

into shreds in brutal 

tearing motions,

never to speak to me again

In a flash I am flying freely

fleeing a supremacist's 
no man's land

Riding my kite's tail as it

soars into crystal ice blue sky,

I pass through sunset in a bottle

 of a marmalade mosaic

As I hold on, winds carry me

far above the snow water,

beyond my wildest

expectations to land

softly amidst love's first light

Attracted like magnets

drawn together by similar politics,

we lay semi-naked in white

chenille robes and ruby silk sheets

He is handsome, stable,

half my age, of another race
we are not a disgrace

His arms protective and strong,

his finger soothes as it traces

my face

In an awake state of illusive exultation,

I find love is ALIVE, I Am  ALIVE!!

At dversepoets.com   we are writing with EXPRESSIONISM...expressing art with bold feelings of love, hate, anger, other emotions.

A cordial holiday...

dversepoets.com
Today we are prompted to use drinking words in ways that have nothing to do with the bar scene, alcohol, or drinking.

                                         
                                 
               

                          A Cordial Holiday



Sweet Sherry and salty Margarita sailed away
for a cordial holiday.

Leaving Manhattan, they were to meet Jim Beam
and John Collins.
At the port of Madeira, came the dismay.
Stood up...the boys obviously held a double standard.
They saw pink champagne colored reefs,
and cockatiels nesting by day,
They slurped sour lemons, ate melons with chard
They paddled into olive green Kahlua shaded water,
thick mangroves by the black velvet night.

They huddled between the sheets ,
bitter but cooler.
On the fifth day they met Rob and Roy for Irish coffees 
With the high ball of sun above,
Sherry was beciderself.
Margarita licked the salt on her arm.
A dream  fizzled, they sugar coated their error
and set sail for Curacao
in search of  the twisted Merry Widow,
met her at old fashioned Mr. Boston's wake,
partaking of  a blended absinthe milkshake