..small curses

Yesterday, I rounded the hill with ease;
how is it I move so slowly today, again.
after heeding the mountain's keen advice,
why the turn about so quick this time,
for I turned myself inside and out
to get out of the house

I asked the sagacious sky if it's
more frequent because of age,
body's steam runs hot and then suddenly cold
Energy realized one day is again sapped,
like climbing backwardly

It can be difficult to stay on an even keel,
of ebbing and waning the moon must know
I asked the all knowing falling rain why
I'm turned around, lost, going down,
more these days than not.

Today I'm less able to run the race,
circumvent the fact that I'm in the throws
of another fibromyalgia attack,
only I'll be fine and I'll be back,
as the hill diminishes  -
worse things have given me flack
 ...so onward as she finishes
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         -
but what about the inside and out of things

Traveling with doves..

At  dversepoets.com today Brian ask us to use the form Paradells -
this is described thusly:
The paradelle is a 4-stanza poem, where each stanza consists of 6 lines.
For the first 3 stanzas, the 1st and 2nd lines should be the same; the 3rd and 4th lines should also be the same; and the 5th and 6th lines should be composed of all the words from the 1st and 3rd lines and only the words from the 1st and 3rd lines.
The final stanza should be composed of all the words in the 5th and 6th lines of the first three stanzas and only the words from the 5th and 6th lines of the first three stanzas.:  


Traveling with white doves from dawn till dusk 
  - traveling with white doves from dawn till dusk
my sail seeks your sweet kiss on a slight breeze 
My sail  seeks your sweet kiss on a slight breeze
A soft breeze carries my kiss traveling
from dusk till dawn, white doves carry your kiss

Faintly I hear your tender whisper call
 - faintly I hear your tender whisper call
I'm gliding due west searching for my bliss
I'm gliding due west searching for my bliss
Due west,  tenderly gliding, your whisper call
faintly I hear, my bliss due west ..searching


Falling stars spell your name in midnight blue
- falling stars spell your name in midnight blue
I feel your presence with the morning dew
-  I feel your presence with the morning dew
Your name I spell in the falling morn dew
Midnight blue feels your presence in the stars  


Searching in the midnight blue for your kiss
 I feel your spell falling with soft white doves
Due west, a slight breeze carries your presence
blissfully gliding my sails from dawn till dusk
With the soft morning dew I hear your call
I hear your name whispered by the stars

Lady in the blue dress...

Today we are writing poems emphasizing bold metaphors without using words "like" and "as" that would weaken the form  @ dversepoets.com   Thank you, Claudia, for your intro.

                                                                         

From the pitch black night sea,
one can see her shrouded head
She keeps the lamp burning
ever since the last storm,
Sheltered by a spit,
driftwood and waving grass,
she was born in 1883,
then moved to her present location
in 1903, before the war
A wall of layered stones
leads to her high waisted
petticoat form
She waits another day in vain,
dedicated to the search
for brave men
Her white Fresnel eye blinks
remembering the disaster
that happened;
she had withstood the hurricane
Gigantic white waves sprayed against her,
took over her favorite sunny place
Wind howled and blew,
so menacingly
she clung tightly
to her foundation's spiral staircase

She has spent years keeping watch -
focused on the beaches still
and the soft lapping waves,
Often glimpsed moving
between night shadows,
in the tower an apparition
appears - when
old mirrors refract the light
of the moon and stars
and if you listen carefully -
you can hear her cries
in whispers at night

By day,
The Lady in the Blue Dress
looks down on the grassy hill -
where children climb the big Sequoia
tree overlooking
the sparkling aquamarine sea
A stray cat her only company,
the Lady in the Blue Dress -
mistress of Admiralty

Over the years many women have been keepers of lighthouses....some are haunted they say..in this poem there is a symbiotic relationship between the woman and the lighthouse itself a woman.

Finney on time....

dversepoets.com





Jack Finney wrote books about
time travel;
the significance of which leads
us to speculate
My mind is open to the idea,
in any case
Clearly we use only a small
percentage of our brains

It's given there is a subconscious state
If it could change people's lives,
get to the heart of things,
if we could re-unite with ancient
friends and relatives via
chant, rubbing a penny,
or hypnosis -
would it give reason to the universe,
or false hope
that there is more,
other than the short lifetimes
we now seem to have in store?                                                                                            
Shudder to think we chase
the wrong rainbows;
Better to have lifetime after lifetime,
loving and sharing as humans,
I would think,
than spend eons evolving from nature -
from plants to bugs to toads,
mammals and fish//
Or to be squished
- and then nothing more

We ought cling to the betterment
of life on earth, while we have it,
as we know it to be true,
to the interconnected web we weave
complicated or surprisingly simple -
It's about time -

Finney's stories take us into the past,
romantically and historically speaking
His books suggest one could go back -
by only clicking heels
together
However you opine,
it's all about time
and how we use it,
never boring,
never enough
time

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

Your carriage awaits...

We are celebrating at  dVerse poets' pub this week.  The grass roots of the group began 3 years ago with a small band of people, and we are having a "ball."  It's a virtual garden party and I'm taking the ice....treat yourselves to some good poetry today.

Fountains spray champagne wishes
for the minions,
chiseled ice is kept cool;
Marvel the artisanship
of the centerpiece-

images of us
Carved statuesque sculptures,
frozen in time
Elegant pieces of art,
statues in ice.
surrounded by gourmet                                                                
hors 'doeuvres -
a scene fit for a king
No jagged edges,
only clear portals to the soul
Dormant yet alive -

breathing, yet not,
intimate words escaping
in cool breathes,
warming -
Potent, poignant philosophy
embedded within
Flamenco dancers in ice
flow with the music,
lull us into la-la land -
revealing within themselves
numerous colorful party lights,
each one a poem reflected
in the melting stream circulating,
Their pondering creates
unique interior shine
For poets, writers, of all types
and nationalities-
cool waves fuel their thoughts,
preserves them temporarily,
for us to savor their offerings

until the last birthed
 stanza or word

Looking through the glassy bodies,
or the vitreous book,
we see many slants on life,
candles burning bright
At the ball, masque it is to be,

there are no prize for gain,

no contests and no fame
 implied

Join us in the celebration
of light -
There is a party tonight!
Stay while waterfalls
of verses run
to the rivers, and the rivers
run to the sea -

we simply celebrate with joy
reading and writing poetry

Ode to the piano man and poetry..

We are celebrating 3 years of success of our favorite poetry website,f the  dVerse Poets Pub     Feel free to read others' posts on this awesome occasion.  I"m so glad to be a small part of it.

"Love wants to stay" sings the piano man;

notes flutter around the room with such ease
He takes us back to where it all began

knowingly fingering old ivories

Piano man's hands magically transcend
all time, underscore scenes kept in our hearts
Soundtracks of our lives airily  suspend
how autumn leaves fall, how love falls apart

Sheet music that maps comedy and pain
Lyrics we know, oh so well, as lovers
who never wanted the love to wane
memories of being left for another

He plays keys that once sparked love and still do
he sits in the dim corner on his stool

Music's a vessel for written poetry
The story 'bout "My Baby", you on a train
Of love always wanting, fighting to be
The night you left me naked in the rain

Applause for the piano man's talent
new lyrics don't erase old melodies
whether smooth jazz, hip hop or classical
it''s how you touch those fine black and white keys

I still believe that love does want to stay
that it never really wants to leave pain
pianissimo and allegro play 

Yes, love instead always wants to remain

Piano man sounds mellow, calm and cool
gold stars on a carpet deep midnight blue

Sunday Swirl....Jackie O..

Above are the 12 word for the prompt called Sunday Swirl ....this is what automatically came to my mind.  Do visit the website to see what others did with the words.


She entered the lackluster interior
of Air Force One;
there was little room for the press
One photographer captured
the moment, nevertheless
an iconic image of one of
America's most tragic events
Shots rang out in Dallas that day
that eclipsed the world;
Millions watched as she stood in shock,
in her blood-stained suit (in black and white)
Words must have stuck in her throat
that for years she silently kept

The hospital had declared John dead
at 1:49pm when few knew the details
To put the pieces of the puzzle together,
The Warren Report was manufactured 
to support the theory that
there was no conspiracy afoot;
detectives were cheekily told to take a hike
Some interviews of witnesses
never became testimony
As John Jr. stood saluting
at his mother's side
while the horse led caisson paraded by
I often wonder what might have been
if his father had not died
Mourners filed to a resting place,
as only bagpipes
and muffled drums played
An eternal flame was lit at the grave,
a lamp to forever honor him
and remember how brave

For the sake of little noses...thoughts

For all the little noses,
and the poses they make,
for all the rings 'round the rosy;
For crayons and paints galore,
books in the mind bank to store
shrieks of discovery and more -
I'm afraid for lack of education,
a firm foundation,
more starvation
How can we as a nation
allow the exploitation,
the humiliation
of children in harms way?
No amount of coinage can replace
the smile on a child's face -
When I think of the dangers
of the world today,
I find no solace when I try to sleep,
knowing how now, as I speak,
there is torture at the hands of strangers
And for all the delightful good in each day,
for everything beautiful in this world,
why must children anywhere,
face hardship in any case,
loss of rights or morals hurled,
have freedom from fear,
 - why can't we make it all go away?
I don't want to hear
it's under investigation;
show me instead our children's
salvation

Whales of Summer..

                                                           

                                                                                                                by klr


No feeling of ground 
beneath their feet,
streamlined for swimming -
they float in sapphire straits
Each summer they return to greet
one another, 
to raise offspring 
as on salmon and shrimp
they feed 
They pass on lessons of birthing,
knowledge for surviving 
the Salish Sea

We honor Orca whales,
but they do not know;

raising a candelabra 
to them does not rid 
garbage from waterways- 

or prevent toxic spills
Threatened with extinction,
for loss of Chinook in estuaries,
we rescue them, 
treat their sonar ills
We make their voyages safer,
for fewer injuries 

They entertain with playful
splashy  breaches,                                                                                 
have the power to heal
Their phonic squeals communicate
what they think and feel -
so much they teach us,
We are allies,
entrusted with their care, 
24/7 vigilance
Youngsters know their names, 
beginning with pods J, K, or L,
such as J2, Luna, and Chance

With their natural talent
they could illustrate-
with the ocean as their canvas
on which art to paint; 
with Earth's colors as their palette,
fins as fine brushes- 
to create
fine cetacean giclees
They could fly kites in the air
with all their abilities,
trade whimsical tales with crusty 
pelicans, crabs, and sand fleas

Instinctively good-natured,
intelligent,
they deserve our dedication
For future millenniums,
it's important to help them
 multiply
Last night I heard their 
calls from Lime Kiln;

their cries we must answer -
like floating lanterns
 illuminating their return
And with a big blink of the eye,
 they will make the journey again -
and we will exchange goodbyes,
but for now, it's only July 

Earth time...

Dadaism was born of the brutality of World War I.  Disillusioned artists of all disciplines, affected by the degradation of social structures, repressive cultural values and unquestioning acceptance of such a war, rebelled against the status quo. A loosely affiliated network of artists and poets, originally clustered around Zurich, adopted a subversive and revolutionary approach to visual art, performance art and poetry. They sought to destroy the hoaxes of reason. The focus of their work was not so much on beauty or appearance as on the ideas the work conveyed. The Dadaist movement laid the groundwork for abstract art and sound poetry. 

___by Victoria Slotto at dversepoets.com      

I've cut up the first poem and chose words randomly to make it a true dada poem....mia culpa for not doing it right the first time;)   Please read what others have written over at the pub for some.  I'll have to cut it up and  good entertainment!  It really is not dadaist..

EARTH TIME

We track the minutes between labor pains,

almost always can guess the time or hour

Eons have gone by, dark and ice ages

"Time, time, time is on your side" -

"la de da da dee"

Some people have enough time in their lives 
to read lots of books, 
yet keep up their multiple blogs and zines 
Time is a gift

Exactly how much time does it really take 
to write profound melodies -
how long is a laugh, a sigh,
how do you measure "chance"?

Carl Sagan spoke of billions and billions 

of light years and stars going by 

My alarm is set 5 minutes fast

On the 7th day 
the Lord took his rest-

                                                             and J Lo wears tight pants                                                                                                                                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Guess what time it is - eons gone by,

  profound gifts -  the Lord's blogs and zines,

Laugh a melody,  between the Dark ages,

 stars going by, 
Write a billion chances ahead of  

billions of sighs  

Carl Sagan's alarm is set 5 minutes ahead

 The ice age is on your side,  
multiple light years,  

 enough time to 
read the hours between people and books 

- and J Lo's wears tight pants 

                                                  to take to the 7th day                                                

always enough , measure of rest

Light years in minutes
 labor pains, 

exactly keep track

La de da da dee

                              

Writers' fourth Wednesday..the texture and traits of circles/roundness

Victoria Slotto, via The Bardo Group  has us writing about texture today;  my first time for her prompt via Poet by Day. Had written a poem about repetition earlier this week, but had no time to finish or post or leave comments, so thought I'd enhance, adapt as much as I could, and use it here.

Pretty pinwheels spin 
summer's days,
small arms stretch grabbing 
big beach balls;

clean damp laundry hangs
heavily from the line, 
pulled from a round 
woven basket in tall grass 

Wind blows at 10 mph..
ravens alert first slits of sun
Lacy bird nests brim 
with young life
Circles, common tools 
in design

I'm speaking to the yin and yang
of things, 
the nonstop calliope 
merry go round;
Labyrinth, if you will,
of our histories -
measured by 
the circumference
of our existence, 
the cold planets,
 their many moons, 
diameters of mud puddles, 
pools of blood,
or a slice of your favorite 
pie in the sky
Round bales of harvest's 
fresh barley wait in the fields,
checkered crops of plowed soil, 
organic farms
Vendors on baked sidewalks
 sell pickles, homemade lemonade
 fresh rhubarb pies

From the shape of eyes
to the plates we eat from, 
I'm fonder of "round"
than square, triangle or diamond;
though I like ovals and sickles -
(toenails)
Sutures in her chest mark the spot
where the cancer was, a circle,

not to mention the radius
of her forbearing feeble womb

At night she walked deep blue
 pile carpet of stars, 
and by the day
wove crowns of 
tangled columbine 

'round goes the bee in a bonnet,
or lies the pearl in a smooth, 
sandy clam shell;
roundness of clocks 
moves me to know life is full 
of sublime, complex mystique,
mathematical equations 
we have not learned
Oft I've wondered the why or how
of the brown mole 
on my left cheek -
something I acquired in Nepal
to go with my widow's peak?

Books covers lure us
to go within - so whose theology 
rings most true..
is it "Looking for Godot", Jung?
or Theroaux?  
Perhaps theSeinfeld show -
full of and about nothing at all
Arrays of hoops, universal orbs, 
human wreaths of love,
bracelets of the Zodiac, 
 revolutions of the globe
To say the least, physical earth 
is comprised of a myriad
of textures, colors, 
and shapes, 
Don't get me started on it's
philosophical origin or state
Are we flushed from 
another place, 
a multi-dimensional hole we travel,
with unimaginable sights?
And when we eventually 
turn around to look back,
will we see God's face?

What shatters...

For dversepoets.com  Marina Sofia asks us to write about despair, which often leads us to poetry, trying to express the unsayable, trying to make sense of the random and painful, and then how one can rebuild or rise up again.  It's a gorgeous day and I'm sitting on my porch, the sun spilling through the trees..

                                                                 by klr

Shards of my heart,
strewn upon life's path-
accidents happened,
battles occurred-
Flesh wounds many;
ruddy-blue scars
reveal the deepest wounds
Like splinters of wood in a finger,
some had to be coaxed out;
damaged ventricles required
necessary surgery

It's easy to replace
a smashed window pane
hit by a fly ball;
but it takes years
to mend a human heart,
not made of steel after all
Even invisible shavings of glass
can penetrate, inflame,
causing insurmountable
suffering and pain-
why this now, again?

Oh for the balm of youth,
to play in the moment-
balloon in hand;
to skate on solid ice
bundled up to our red noses
Before we knew reality
Oh, for the salve
of a circle of friends and family,
for laughing,
and other carrying on

To those innocent days
when we played all day
with turtles, trucks and dolls
looked to the moon and stars
each night-
tales of whiffletrees
and  enchanting wizards;
Riding bikes with arms free,
being in love,
looking forward to wed

Loan me strength of giants,
whatever it takes,
in spite of it all -
to wipe the slate clean,
undaunted by negatives
No wonder aging cannot
be arrested for more than
a little while -
consider the heavy artillery
that comes our way

Let us lift the shells,
load our cannons with confetti,
adorn them with streamers
and fire them back
with surety
Each time we turn a sharp corner,
when we feel fear
or vulnerability,
when we are broken,
we nevertheless
gain sagacity

There will be smiles
for the progress made;
a new level
of understanding
We can be glad we are not
in some others' shoes,
that we are not deadwood,
without any use
We will live, love and flourish,
do our best
keep going -  test after test.

A stream runs through it...

Today's prompt at dversepoets.com is to write about a place we wish to go if we could, that we've never been to before...I took a different tack.  Going to a graduation this evening, so will be on the trail later tonight.
                                                                                                 

          Painting by Robert Cassilla 

                                                                                             

There is a road I long to take 
that divides two meadows sap green;
it's warm horizon beckons me
on a honeysuckle summer breeze
A stream runs through it, clearly sings,
and at the end of that fine ride,
arms catch me and take me inside 

From the time I was just a babe
Naivete led me through hills
and valleys I wearily trekked
At previous forks in the road
choices were made - thrust onto me;
kept me otherwise occupied,
a surreal grayness of existence 

My new bed will be petal soft
gone the hard, leather saddlebags;
no more walking o'er hot embers 
I'll stoke the fire with oil of life, 
burning bridges at that shoreline
where pain leaves and weakness is gone

For warriors hearts to rest easy
there needs to be a place somewhere 
that soothes the draining wounds at last,
where love is unconditional;
where people's smiles are authentic
where we are pampered in the light

There is a place I long to see
where children grow to know less fear,
sicknesses of the mind are cured
Where hearts unburdened ride upon
the wings of eagles flying high
Where doubting succumbs to reveal
munificent ways the world can heal

Connecting the unconnectable ...go a bit berserk!

We are having fun today writing for Claudia's dversepoets.com  cool prompt, connecting the non connectable or being young and wild and free for a bit, mixing metaphors or what have you:

Off the cuff,
A little bit absurd//

a lot silly - it all makes sense to me

     "No it does not!"
No peace for the peacemakers;
    "death to the executioners"
Needles, not in a haystack,
or a bed of nails -
rather in a bubble bath
to cure what ails
 Correct the leaning tower's tilt;
   tilt the Eiffel tower//
     build dams for ocelots,
      let beavers swim the seas
      Add 7Up to the bread mix,
    stir vanilla into beans//
 Make jam from rose hips
to put on havarti and peas;
     Or go crazy with Saxifrage cream pie!
     Opposites attract - no they don't; 
don't lie-
Reminds me of the friendly Heffalumps
  and upside down green eggs,
   pineapple and ham -
"or was it blue eggs turned over 
  with sweetbreads and spam?"
Let horses surf the wild waves;
invite homeless turtles home
as guests for dinner...
Tarzan was mellow man;
 Alice loved the Mad Hatter!
It's nonsense// right!?
or horse-sense...or,
I know, it's "Duck Soup"!
   //or none of the above?
I think I'll take a nap now,
for my brain is 'waterlogged'
or dehydrated,
depending on where you stand
Note,  I did not say 'washed',  'tortured',
or 'water boarded' - 
because it could be vacant
 or burnt to a crisp, as in digitized, 
desensitized, nullified
// emptied of all I 'learnt'..
or hung from a eucalyptus tree trunk,
 in knots tied
Mind you, I'm getting along just fine
- took my meds today on time;
(true), including vitamins X, Y, and Z
 the orange, the little pink ones,
the oblong blue ones, and the green
and white capsules - they all
went down the gauntlet of
my esophagus nicely, 
with a bottle of hardy mushroom wine...
a bottle of Perrier?  forgot now.. 
or was it guzzling a barrel of gramp's
 ol' moonshine?