Lillian is the host of Open Link Night on dVerse Poets Pub and one of her sayings is“Normal” is a setting on a dryer.(lillian) Which got me to thinking about my own sayings that I use a LOT right now. One of which is: “Average is a mathematical equation; normal is an illusion.” (JPP). So in honor of all the times people have said to me “this is the new normal” only to hear “normal is an illusion” I give you …
They call it the new normal for me it’s another day of masks and social distance and, really, that’s Okay
Normal never did mean all that much to me it’s just a grand illusion whose source I cannot see
So I walk my path alone isolation’s not so tough for I have magic in my veins and for me that’s quite enough
Secret Garden – Nocturne (Lyric Video) ft. Anne Takle
Our host a dVerse Poets Pub Tuesday Poetics is Laura Bloomsbury, who asks us for our flights of fancy. The following is based on a real life observation of a nesting pair of Great Horned Owls who were being tormented by a scold of very noisy jays. One of the adult owls defiantly lured the jays away and suddenly turned on them, snatching one unwitting fellow right out of the air.
Flight of Fancy/Dance of Death
Whump, whump, whump the air throbs under the assault of massive wings three powerful strokes and he is aloft master of the thermals
He dips one wing in silent condolence to the pitiful flightless things below while defiantly flying straight into the scold of jays, and through
He climbs ever higher, taunting inconsequential forms of lesser birds that fall behind in the chase still jeering they cluster … until
Pivoting on one wing, he falls with sharp talons and flared wings like an avenging angel set to smite their relentless taunting
A silent cloud of black feathers announces his success
Merildsmith is hosting Poetics at dVerse and bids us “I’d like you to think about impermanence, things that are transient, or things that have passed their time. If you want to stick to the seasons, nature, or the weather, that’s fine, but I’d like to challenge you to try to come up with something different or unusual.”
Constancy of Change
What do we hold on to in a world where the only constant is change
Words that spoke of love passed and slipped away with the impermanence of Spring
In a universe where even brightest stars burn out and skies remain empty at the loss
Who is to say what is eternal and what is transient hope still beats strong within my heart
For in this universe of transience and temporal impermanence only one thing remains sure
You and Me. Always.
The Best Thing that Ever Happened To Me ~ Gladys Knight
“As another year approaches, it is sometimes difficult to maintain hope for what lies ahead, though hope defined is really something of our own making. We can always have hope. We can always have dreams. This world we live in has progressed in countless ways but has also taken regressive steps, in my opinion regarding humanity. Often my poetry tends to dip into the dark. For me, the words flow from what I see as an obvious truth, a direction that our society has taken, without hesitation or contemplation. Today I am asking you to do the same. Dream with me. For this prompt, create and describe a “new world” as you envision it. You can write from a general perspective or focus on one particular scene in your new world. Try, if you can to avoid a specific political view. This ol’ world has been a bit lost for awhile now. The sky’s the limit. Maybe your world doesn’t have a sky. Maybe we live in the sky. Keep it simple or take us to Utopia.”
Merril is our host for Poetics at dVerse poets pub this week. So, for today’s Poetics challenge, I’d like you to write something about echoes. You can write actual echo poetry—where you repeat the end word or syllable or echo sounds.
OR—you can write a poem about some sort of actual echoes. OR –you write about the myth of Echo. OR—you can combine any or all of these.
Voices echo dimly in the hollow of my heart empty no longer
Laura Bloomsbury is our host at dVerse Poetics this week. In this season of more, more, more, Laura asks us to pen a poem of less.
The suffix ‘less’ has both negative and positive connotations and even neutral ones. The challenge is to choose ONE or MORE from THE LIST of words BELOW and include it/them in the body and/or title of your poem. If possible, add a soupçon of hopefulness for Hope is the message in this first advent week!
HA is hosting and welcomes us to another week of dVerse Poetics. “Today, I am prompting you to think of what comes to your mind when you picture ‘Black’. Think of what it means to you or what it stands for. You can venture into different areas like identity, materialism, personal experiences, physics, et al. as well. Or you can simply incorporate the word ‘black’ in your title and poem. Once you have thought it through and you have written and published your poem, link it up in the widget down below.”
Deep and Rich and Dark the black of night removes the colors from our sight but for a single star that burns more bright or is it just illusion
Hearts so fragile and easily broken when into blackness the mind is woken when angry words can’t be unspoken souls lie in confusion
Blackness covers all withered limbs that writhe and fall crumbled ‘neath the wind we must walk away or crawl as colors dance in gay profusion
Ha is hosting Tuesday Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub and Ha bids us:
“This week, I am exhorting you all to write/create a profile/portrait in your verse. You can go about it in a variety of ways — you can write a descriptive piece about an interesting person you met today or profile a loved one (or perchance someone you don’t like at all) or think of an event involving one or multiple people and write about the things as they transpired with people in the focus or perhaps do a self-portrait. It is open to interpretation but there are certain tools that can enhance a profile/portrait, for instance, rich details, movements, sensory descriptions, quotes, et al. Choose any or all.”
She walks gently across the last grass of summer bare feet barely bruising the browning blades
The scarf around her waist is festooned with tiny bells that jingle and clamor with the sway of her hips
We lay a blanket on the grass and she takes out her cards telling me my future while I smile and laugh
By the light of her lanterns we dance beneath the stars to the ancient song of the trees and the music of the winds
We dance for our sisters both near and far away those who cannot remember a time when the swish and sway
of a woman’s hips and legs were so profound and beautiful that music was molded to it and they called it the dance