De (aka WhimsyGizmo) is hosting Quadrilles at dVerse Poets Pub and has asked for a poem about “bother” what bothers us, what do we find bothersome? What gets us hot and bothered? Hmmm … as I poke my muse repeatedly until she finally gets tired of being bothered and manages to convey some sort of inspiration.
Dreams of Late — a quadrille
At night of late dark dreams have come frightening and bothersome dark shapes I cannot see swoop, harass and bother me moonless skies throughout the night colors fading from my sight searching for the moon’s bright light I wake to find it’s all illusion
Laura is our host for dVerse poetics this week asking us for a poem based on paintings, or the titles of paintings. Do visit the pub for all the fascinating details.
I must say this was fun and challenging. I chose “Convergence” by Jackson Pollock and started with a painterly poem based on the title, an attempt to paint for you the vision I see when I think about “convergence.” Then, when I looked up the actual artwork, the words came out much different even though (for me) the feeling was the same. I should have expected the unexpected from Pollock’s work. I must say, I see much stargazing in my future because of this prompt so thank you ever so much Laura.
Convergence Part 1 — a painterly poem
convergence of planets align on a starry night leaning back on my elbows watching the indigo sky devolve into the stars of Orion the new moon rises in Gemini your lips graze my throat draws a shuddering breath you point out Betelgeuse, a red star burning bright, and Rigel steadfast and true your arm wraps around me as I shiver, stealing warmth from your body against the night air expectantly, I breathe you in and exhale into your kiss let the convergence begin
Convergence Part 2 an ekphrastic poem
Lines converge in distant galaxies harsh black and white splashes of red and gold Orion Nebula filled with gaseous debris, vapors and mist kiss of the heavens strength of the eons womb of the stars
Kim is our host for Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub, “the challenge is to write a metaphor poem that starts with the words ‘This being human is…’ You can compare being human to anything you want: a building or place, an object, something natural or something manufactured, a ritual or an everyday act. It is up to you to explore whatever it is in your poem.”
Humanity of Trees
This being human is a tree rooted deep within the earth yet reaching toward the sky drinking in the sunshine and pondering the eternal mystery of the moon and stars and our own humanity one tree with many branches each with thousands of leaves that sway and dance with the wind offering shade and shelter to all who seek respite, a quantum of solace and renewal always growing, always changing the wisdom of the seasons leaves that fade and fall in a flurry of color breathtaking reminders of the beauty of letting go this being human is… beautiful
For dVerse Poets Pub where Sarahsouthwest is hosting quadrilles. Our inspiration for this edition is “swift”
Poetry and Madness
My thoughts flit and dive like starlings and swifts always aflight, with glimpses of exquisite confusion My mind buzzing like cicadas in summer with memories of magic afire with scraps of poetry and madness a fevered rhythm of need as the sun swiftly sets
For Tuesday’s Poetics where Mish is hosting, asks us. “Writing from a perspective other than our own is a great challenge. We’ve had some very interesting prompts over the years where we have climbed out of our comfort zones to look through a new lens. That has usually involved looking through the eyes of another person. I’d like to float a little further into the unknown and suggest we take the perspective of a color. (or “colour’ as we spell it in Canada)”
Cattle in stark relief exposed black silhouettes juxtaposed against my gentle winter hue would you notice if I were blue perhaps shade of summer green but all unnoticed I remain unseen
Wait for the waxing pink moon as amber buds begin to bloom I am not some lifeless tone but fragile glass and precious stone, like the shine in lovers’ eyes I am fading sunset’s golden prize
Down the path to the river we go along the trail the fairies know to visit playful sprites and gnomes in muddy banks I’ll sink my toes where the sweet Fae Princess laughs in splashing waters burbling past we bow as one when her highness sings of ancient days of wars and kings as the chilling water prickles my toes I hear Daddy’s call “it’s time to go”