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

Crimson’s Creative Challenge # 106 – Words on Walls

For Crimson’s Creative Challenge # 106

Words on Walls

words of love
words of hate
written with chalk
written with paint
sometimes with the blood
of the artist’s soul
with anger or passion
too absolute
words written on walls
words written of truth

 

Unattributed photo found on Pinterest and weheartit – quote Jimi Hendrix

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

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