Mr. Toad

We are writing these today over at dversepoets.com The Florette consists of two or more 4-line stanzas.  Rhyme scheme: a,a,b,a  Meter: 8,8,8,12  Fourth line requirement of internal (b) rhyme scheme, on syllable 8. Like the outgrowing of a small flower, the forth line of each stanza is longer, and enwraps the previous lines. Line #4 requires an internal rhyme scheme that rhymes the eighth syllable with the end of line #3, and continues to add on four more syllables than the other lines so that the fourth line ends rhyming with lines #1 and #2. Mr. Toad

I did not see you there at first

In your language, I'm not well-versed

You blended in with the wood chips

so uncannily, my parched lips cried out in thirst

We stared each other down awhile;

In shadows, I'm quite sure you smiled

Fell away pieces of my heart

I then began to fall apart, in the erstwhile

Fear evaporated like rain

You listened closely to my pain

as I wept, needing to confide,

and lay in my bed on my side to hide in vain

Moonshine fell on the ebbing tide

You led me in hope to abide

small waves pulled away at the neap

You said the time to leap is when dissatisfied,

Who knows from where some ropes are thrown;

you helped me see beyond the stone

wall where I was squarely grannied, 

stripped of all camouflage, harried and quite alone 

Courage now springs from fertile soil

where strange mushrooms grew through turmoil

You took me from the moat beneath,

my soul to a safe castle keep, my friend loyal

His Homeland..

dversepoets.com

Today's Monday haibun is about reflecting on Vincent Van Gogh's painting, "View of the Church of de Mausole". I found this a delightful exercise.

If I were to choose a calendar month for this painting, it would most likely be autumn. But because of the way light from the sun falls on the fields and spreads like butter throughout the sky, it could be Van Gogh's depiction of a spring or summer day..or even a colder, winter scene.

Autumn leaves streak across the sky, or could those be morning cirrus clouds sprayed gold by the rising sun? Perhaps it is a hot afternoon or almost twilight when the sunset melds everything into long shadows and afterglows of the day's mirages.  Would shadows be as prevalent or stretched long if it were painted during the earlier part of the day?  Van Gogh's blues and golds, heavily splashed on canvas, flow like a river, suggest evening-time. But, they seem to reflect the sky in the terrain below. There is no obvious snow and the trees have most of their leaves, so I am leaning toward a late September day.

I am struck by Van Gogh's ability to express such passion so boldly. I am impressed he doesn't appear to hide secrets or hold back his fears, joys and sorrows. I imagine him sitting on a stool not far away, wildly wielding his brushes up and down and across, driven, his clothes splattered in colors of paint and his face awash with red in the heat of his work.

Buoyant solace, mirth
Vincent's French countryside church
overlooking all

Feline love

                                                                                                                         

It's time for the Monday Haibun -                                                 dversepoets.com
                                                                                                                                           

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

\
Your image emerges from tufted white clouds as I paint the surrounding sky. Your portrait, within a rainbow's full arc, today I paint through teary eyes. I had not yet planned to make that particular small journey yesterday, but I'm glad I took the turn that led me north instead of south after I left you. Otherwise, I would not have seen what I saw before me: the sky parted and a rainbow appeared.




I watched as you sank to a lying position and folded your paws into my hand. Your eyes were open while I sang our favorite song to you; you purred just like you always do. I petted your pretty head and rubbed your ears between my fingers with my other hand. I told you we would be going home soon and pick up where we left off, watching the birds and other small animals. Because I knew you were tired and weary, I said things I knew you loved to hear. 

                                                                                                         

                                                                                                                                                      Katie

                                                                                                                                                              

You are permanently etched into my heart, with me wherever I go. I know you understood how much I loved you, how much you meant to me. But it stuns me to realize how true was your love and all that I meant to you. I did not deserve the altruistic devotion you showed me, living only to please me, and it has been my unraveling. As you closed your eyes, I remembered the day I found you, decided to adopt and care for you. Through everything, you were by my side or on my lap, comforting me. 

 Loyal companion,
gift to my wandering soul -                                                                      
rest in peace, my friend

Boating with Judy

It has been awhile since I have posted, and today Victoria has asked us to write something humorous. I took a cue from Bjorn and tried my hand at writing an anapestic tetrameter...not as well done as his, however, as it is one of his specialties. Read more over at submissions over at dversepoets.com.  I fudged a little, I think, by adding two lines, 

In the morning at Lone lake, the three launched the boat
with their poles to catch fish for an early dinner
Derell helped Judy step inside most gingerly
Harold slipped a slim pint of moonshine in his coat
Judy rowed as they passed the bottle back and forth
The men laughed to see her soused, stupid tipsy elves
In the middle, twice as drunk, she turned the boat north
One last swig, up she stood, rocked the men overboard
It was her turn to roar as she picked up the oars,
left the men to be fished out of the lake themselves

Ancient petroglyphs

Meant for a previous prompt for dverse.com....Bjorn asked us to write about hieroglyphs..he had posted several.


Lines and curves drawn,
 dots and curlicues,
markings in colors of clay;
drawings embedded in
star-studded terrain
of rock and petrified wood
Stories writ of love and war,
survival understood.                                            
Commandments
carved in stone;
a hunting party,
people in quest
of their own destiny
The desire to communicate-
writings, no less,
of a way of living -
to be discovered
at a future age,
figures swimming, fighting,
signs of the times,,

Language from the past,
when hands whispered words and
pictures,
what was dreamed about
back then
 - hope shouted out loud
Scribbles translated,
messages of life and death,
culture and laws,
maps to universal truths

Charcoal arrows point to
rustic blood-stained
writing
 on walls
by terrified souls,
Mysteries uncovered as the
wheel of time turns,
reflections of life
breathing more life,
era after era,
eon after eon.

Alphabetical, male or female?

For dversepoets.com today, Mary and Kelly have challenged us to write from the opposite sex's point of view. What is it like to write a 'gender-bender"?  I found this difficult and ended up with more of a conversation piece...it is confusing to me how and who decides the names of natural disasters or masculinity or feminine names of events or things.


Winds blow across the bar
swathing through a town,
clouds gather from afar
spiral to the ground
To name a ship or car,
female in its sound;
for train or a dog star,
masculine is found

Hurricanes with gender,
howling like a hound
nasty stormy weather,
actors in the round,
Katrina not tender;
named chaos abounds
Malicious to tether,
stop clowning around

Mountains and volcanoes
press for presidents;
nymphs from the sea know those
kings, queens, both sexes
Glaciers and rivers flow,
planets androgynous,
Alphabet to and fro
or anonymous

Japanese death poem..

From seed to blossom,
bathe in one's place in the sun,
to the sea and timeless sands 
Orion awaits, 
the plight of twenty one grams


A Tanka to express my version of a death poem, suggested to us by Gayle and Grace and over at dversepoets.com

Lamplight

Anthony Desmond at  dversepoets.com is moving on with a new book in the works. He leaves us with several lines of his. We are to incorporate at least 3 of them into a new poem. His words are  underlined below; the rest is mine. Have a good day.























Once, your  sweet love enveloped me,
we played in the noonday sun;
golden grass has grown taller -
our story had just begun
Then you moved and I went away;

the sun departed and rain came to stay,

neon goldfish flashing 
in the pavement waterway
Shade like shadow engulfed me

and like a lioness with belladonna in her eyes,

I craved images of you

Today I felt the fluidity of your presence

when I heard the loons call your name 

It's been a long, long time -

but you are just like you used to be,
the same

You came back into my life for a day,

a lost love found me, in you

and flooded me like a lone streetlight 
amongst the darkness
to shine on what is true

Forgetting.

For dversepoets.com

This is a make-up for a prompt I missed two weeks ago to write a poem using the term "I forgot", "I forget"or "How we Forget".




I forgot what it feels like to be in love,,,
           yet I remember certain kisses
I forgot how the elephant raised the circus tent
           but remember I once kept a dime in my shoe
I forgot how Brando wept in "On the Waterfront"
           until I watched it again today
I remember when I was deliberately lied to 
           and when I learned to trust again
I remember when you carried me piggyback
          because I was barefoot over a rocky trail 
I remember your arms putting me gently down on the grass 
           like finding and losing the holy Grail
I remember the campfire songs so sweet
           I forgot candlelit small boats sent downstream
I forgot her birthday on Christmas;
           I'm sure she feels cheated each year
I forgot about the one Native American girl in our school,
           how alone she must have felt,
I remember her crippled, aged mother
           who always smiled at me
I remember the drive through the mountains
           as a young girl to the sea
I remember listening to a football game on the car radio...
           I remember it was U of W vs USC
I'll not forget the men I have loved
           How many have not forgotten me

A wisp of hair..

This is under 200 words...my first thought when it came to the subject of  "CHANGE', the prompt given to write about today over at  dversepoets.com   My, the possibilities are endless


Incredibly soft skin, a wisp of hair
a knowing look -
   wrapped in a blanket
Soft early yellow light gently fills the room
By mid morning the dew is gone;
a rusty bicycle slouches against a willow tree;
each day refreshed

By noon, citrine beams push up
a beanstalk reaching above a wall;
the playground explored,
lessons hammered in,
knowledge ricochets beyond the local fray,
Ideas are jettisoned across bridges of dreams,
to be spent or realized

Over time, joys and sorrows careen
in the blazing late afternoon sun
Much is given, much taken away
Passion and pride intact.
there is much to do,  one lifetime
to dance in the streets;
doors to the Library of Memories
are kept open late

Welcome evening shade slips
between streams of amber light,
bent upon a good heart
Moonlight trickles into eyes
incredibly deep, with wrinkled stories,
grey shades of light, veins of life
Peaceful rest, wrapped in a blanket,
 a knowing look,
          incredibly soft skin,
      .....a wisp of hair