Poetics – Pearls of Wisdom

Image by RitaE on Pixabay

For dVerse Poetics, Mish asks us for an “object poem” beginning with “this is not a ____”

Pearls of Wisdom

This is not a necklace
but a strand of memories
each more precious than the last

Layer upon shimmering layer
each covering the tiny seed
of discontent, making it more bearable

beauty in the layers, truth in the grit
pearls of a mother’s wisdom
wrapped in layers of love and life

Til next time ~Stay trippy hippies ~JP

Dabbling at Art — a Quadrille

Canyonlands Moab Utah

Dabbling at Art — a Quadrille

The trail was hardscrabble
and loose sienna sand
bluejays singing babble
sky grey and bland
over boulders I grappled
as gait became unsteady
leeside shade was dappled
paint and canvas at the ready
the clouds begin to part
I begin dabbling at my art

word count 44

For dVerse Quadrille – dabbling

and JusJoJan # 12 — sing

Til next time ~Stay Trippy hippies ~JP

The Deer and I

The Deer and I

Here where the artesian spring gurgles up through the ground, I pause. My intuition stirs, something. I glance behind and see him there, browsing amongst the fading autumn grass. I sense no fear from him, no tensing of muscle and sinew. Why should he flee? My soft pink form is no threat to him. I wonder if he knows, something inside, outside the bounds of human knowing. I would not harm him, nor his home.

Others are treacherous and wasteful, caring not for the needs of growing things. Contemptuous of all they deem lesser, and all is less. But for now, we are content to share this bit of world, the deer and I. I smile and he turns away from the warmth of sun on waning grass; away from me.

We drink from the stream,
with a warm delight – the same
the deer and I

For Haibun Monday at dVerse
and Just Jot It January – gurgle

 

Til next time ~Stay trippy hippies ~JP

Poetics – South Wind

Salt Flats Death Valley

SarahSouthwest is our host at dVerse Poetics this week. She has asked us to write a poem based on a chosen title HERE.

They Say that Only the South Wind Flattens Grass

The South Wind flattened grass that day
we watched as they filed past
skies billowing noxious clouds of grey
with putrid remains of toxic gas

No mercy left within their eyes
bodies bent with pain and sorrow
the harbingers of death and lies
hold no hope for tomorrow

The South Wind flattens more than grass
where verdant crops once grew
sorrow’s seed will now trespass
grief take wing where sparrows flew

Nowhere left to hide, we fled
while broken dreams around us lay
on fallow ground now stained bright red
the South Wind flattened grass that day

Til next time  ~Peace ~JP

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

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

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

Normal Magic

3.15.20 sunrise

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 …

Normal Magic

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

Til next time ~Peace ~JPP