Tuesday, November 15, 2016


At dversepoets.comdVerse today we are writing about the super moon.

Clouds covered the super moon last night where I live. Disappointed I was not in a place where I could see the moonrise, I imagined it emerging from the east, filling half the sky - when the curve of the earth is such that it appears to be much closer than it actually is. As in the movie "Moonstruck", with 'Amore' as the theme, the moon took center stage as it appeared from outside a bedroom window, while others sat down for a meal, and while the old man was walking the dogs at night. My, how they howled at its sight.

With scenes filmed in an old New York, it could have been set at the time of the last super moon in 1948 , a period story of Italian families caught up in the many sided emotional angles of love. Producers can be creative with cameras, and to me, it was the ideal big yellow moon for lovers, one I hope to see someday with someone special.

A settling down time
the full harvest moon honors
our plenty, our love


Thursday, November 10, 2016

Skylarks after the storm..

  At dversepoets.com today we are writing an Alouette.....two or more stanzas of 6 lines each, with the following set rules:    Meter: 5, 5, 7, 5, 5, 7    Rhyme Scheme: a, a, b, c, c, b             

Skylarks After the Storm

Morningsong delight
for Isle of the Right;
trumpets' troubled notes of rain
led by a drumline
marching out of time,
flying above the terrain

Lightning edges flash
blink of an eyelash
Waterfalls beckon the flock
to bathe in the sun
The war must be won
before one man stops the clock

Miniature kites
tumble from the sky,
larks pirouette 'round corners
spreading their goodwill
throughout vale and hill,
messaging beyond borders

Harbingers of peace
warn wars meant to cease
The world has been mismanaged
Fire spits from within
to mend what's fallen,
gold leaf to fill cracks damaged

Resolve unsurpassed,
each man and each lass -
heed the call to assemble
Gentler leadership
greater fellowhip,
gleaned when earth Tuesay trembled

Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Bridges lead the way..

First frost on the covered bridge keeps us from traveling far - our trousers stiff already, noses reddened by sharp cold air. A blanket of snow on its roof waits for warmer temperatures to melt it and long icicles hanging from eaves.  I snap a photo as I cross, for what could be a long time, making a pretty postcard scene to paint and send. Decorated with sleigh bells and lights for the holidays, I reset my memories.  Not a bridge to nowhere, but to the unknown, to a future life, travels beyond adolescence.

I recall the river rising, flowers blooming, and being with friends all day at the bridge. I imagine horse-driven wagons, cattle, people parading across the bridge since before the turn of the century. Hazy summers we floated down the river, gliding under it, emerging from its shadowy earthen underside to a sunnier other side.  When fifty mph winds blew through the tunneled building, it was hard to stand up straight inside, especially  when  young lovers would meet there in the middle of the day, sneak a kiss or leave initials carved on a board.

The young do not see the passage of time in the bridge's fading beauty, only decay. Anytime a welcome sight, the old covered bridge yawns as we go along the road on our way.

Life never will be
the same; many dreams born there -
fish jumping all day


We are writing about bridges today in the haibun form, a short tale ending with a haiku.

Turning the page..

Welcome bygone souls
to a jubilant graveyard party
October wanes this night
as we feast,
become something else for a night
Glittered masks, corn mazes,
After harvest is a settling down,
inhabiting another moment in time
in honor of plenty
Awakened familiar ghosts
engage in shenanigans,
trade stories at the midnight hour
Feet kick up burnt umber leaves,
fireworks scatter and pop
La Ledrona's cries enter our chests
like carving knives
Excruciating pain replaced with joy,
returns to sorrow
Cat screeches under moonlight
skeletons hung over fences
moan and groan
Clowns scare themselves
Crow feathers drift in smoke
and ash trails
Down feathers our nests
against morning dew
Clouds break for rainbows
and November's hues