Ode to soup – a quadrille

Lisa is hosting our dVerse quadrille challenge with our prompt of “abide”

When I first read the prompt, my mind immediately went to love poetry, not quite my mood today. The winds are fierce and I am practicing a little kitchen witchery with a chicken carcass.  Naturally, I immediately thought of soup. I make soup like my Grandma made, boiling left-over bones down for stock. My kitchen (OK actually my whole house) smells divine on this blustery autumn day. On chilly windy days, we made soup and she would tell me the story of “Stone Soup” ah but that’s a tale for another day.

Soup – a meal in a can?

“Soup’s good for you”, she said
vegetable, chicken or chili instead
served piping hot with cheese and bread.
Canned soups I simply can’t abide
never knowing what may lurk inside
too often thin, tasteless, and bland
so I make my own whenever I can

word count 44

Til next time  ~Peace ~JP

Sunday Stills – Colorful Textures

For Sunday Stills our prompt is Textures

Colorful Textures

Colors of the sky
texture of grass
songs of the ocean
feelings that pass

Colorful textures
changing with time
rough hardened edges
that sparkle and shine

Large amethyst geode on display at Ruby’s Inn – Bryce Canyon, UT
Devil’s Tower, Wyoming — “This means something”
A thorny flower or a beautiful thorn bush? – Pahrump, NV
Robin’s egg found in a nest of stone in South Dakota
The power of water – shooting the rapids on Animas River, Durango, Colorado

Til next time ~Peace ~JP

Possibly Possible — A Quadrille

Whimsy Gizmo is our host for dVerse quadrille and asks us:

Scribble us a poem of possibility using just 44 words, including some form of the word possible.

Possibly Possible

the night is filled
with the auspicious
portent of possibility

for what the sun
will bring with dawning,
possible futures

lay aside the probability
of chance and dream
of hope and possibilities

throw open the window
of second chances and
all that is possible

word count 44

Til next time ~Peace ~JP

Sunday Stills – Auburn

This week’s Sunday Stills prompt is our monthly color exploration, this month – Auburn Many thanks to Terri for the prompt as auburn is one of my very favorite shades

Auburn Iris — Queens Garden, Invercargill, NZ
Auburn leaves of a huge Japanese Maple from the Japanese Garden also in Invercargill, NZ
stunning auburn sunrise in Kapaa, Kauai, Hawaii
Auburn brick patterned walkway, Wellington, NZ
Deep auburn woodwork, Larnach Castle, Dunedin, NZ

Auburn hair slid beneath his hands
hot nights lying on coral sands
when diamonds winked from the indigo sky
serenade of waves as night rolled by
adventures as they rode across the land
lost as auburn hair slid beneath his hands

 

Til next time ~Peace ~JP

Of Shadow and Light – a Crimson Creative Challenge

Of Shadow and Light

In the forest’s dark shroud
stood a wee, tiny house
not home to a human,
squirrel, or mouse
where the fairies came
to dance and to play
they come out at twilight
and at break of day

By the old oak whose bark
is all twisted and curled
in the dark of the glade
lies the fairies’ small world
by the light of the moon
I glimpsed me a sight
of a world half in shadow
and half way in light

For Crimson’s Creative Challenge

Til next time  ~Peace ~JP

Thursday Inspiration – Space

For Paula’s Thursday Inspiration – Space

The Space Between Heartbeats

In the space between
heartbeats
in the moments between
sleeping and waking
in the pause between snowflakes
drifting aimlessly
there are galaxies
of light and loss
vast seas of cosmos
for love to cross
here in those unseen spaces
here where life renews
here for all eternity
I will wait for you

What Do You See – Moments for Choices

Til next time ~Peace ~JP

Shattered – a prosery tale

Image by Simon Giesl from Pixabay

Merril is our host at dVerse Poets Pub for prosery.

Prosery is a piece of short prose that includes a line from a poem. I will give you the line, and then you incorporate it into your prose piece. It can be either flash fiction, nonfiction, or creative nonfiction, but it must be prose, not a poem. And it must be no longer than 144 words, not including the title. It does not have to be exactly 144 words. Our prompt is:

there is nothing behind the wall
except a space where the wind whistles”
from “Drawings By Children” by Lisel Mueller

Shattered

She could still feel the ugly red pressure of the day it happened. The dull grey and orange of the sky, the torrent of air rupturing the early morning stillness like a sonic boom. The day the light died in his steel-grey eyes while he spoke the words that shattered her heart, her world, her soul.

It should have killed her. Pain like that should kill you instantly, like an arrow to the heart. But, alas, it did not. She pulled together the fragments of her shattered self and put them back together. Differently this time. Never again know the pain of love. She built a wall around her heart and to all who knew her, she seemed whole. But there is nothing behind the wall except a space where the wind whistles in hollow agony.

Word count 136

Til next time ~Peace ~JP

Pull of the Compass – a quadrille

Whimsygizmo is hosting this month’s quadrille over at dVerse Poets Pub and asks to polarize ourselves with a poem of 44 words, including “magnet.”

Pull of the Compass

Your voice reached my ears
and drew my eyes to you
with all the force of an electro-magnet
my heart followed
the way a compass points north
and then my mind
with unerring precision
I know in a manner unknowing
precisely where you are

word count 44

Til next time ~Peace ~JP

Happy Places and New Normals – for Sunday Stills

Terri’s Sunday Stills prompt this week is “your happy place” ahhhh, there have been so many. We’re international travelers. Every year we’ve been out of country for some period of time (usually a month or more). Needless to say 2020 has been somewhat of a let down. Like most people, we’re still learning to cope with the “new normal” so very different from the “old normal.” But we’re adapting and there are still hundreds of beautiful places to visit. Cautiously, carefully. So a few of my happy places from right here in my own “backyard” …

Bryce Canyon, Utah, USA
Crater Lake, Oregon, USA
Kapaa, Kauai, Hawaii, USA
Open Trail, Zion National Park, Springdale, UT USA

Over oceans I have traveled
across the lands by plane and car
I have hiked the forests green
and wished upon a Shanghai star
of the places I have been to
the happiest by far
the only place that I call home
is any place you are

Til next time ~Peace ~JP

Hands – a Prosery Tale

Clouds over the surf

Kim from Writing in North Norfolk is hosting at dVerse today and would like for us to write a bit of prosery including the following line from D.H. Lawrence’s poem “Hummingbird:”

We look at him through the wrong end of the long telescope of Time’.

For an added challenge, we are limited to 144 words.

I take his gnarled hand in mine. Papery skin seeming somehow fragile. Hands that gently bottle fed a newborn kitten also struck fearsome taekwondo punches. Big hands, strong hands that made a little girl feel safe, that wiped away the tears and lifted the child back onto the bicycle. Hands that were meant for delicate technical work, not to be the home for needles and tubes. Brothers are weeping. We look at him through the wrong end of the long telescope of Time. Somehow the giant of a man appears reduced by the ravages of years. In my mind, I turn the telescope and see the young man diving from high cliffs into the surf far below. His hand caresses my cheek, wiping away one last tear. He whispers “don’t weep for me my angel” as I watch the light fade from his eyes.

word count 144

Til next time ~Peace ~JP