Living In The Wrong Dimension

Posted: August 14, 2017 in thought stream

After a break dverse is back and it’s Quadrille night ~ a 44-word poem to include the word ‘dream’.


He says not a word,
sits as she reads to him
and after a silence
asks him two questions.
 

But his eyes are locked on the street,
seeing nothing. In his dream-state
he is lost in a spring
that is now two seasons away.

At dverse tonight it’s time to celebrate our 6th anniversary ~ and we’re doing it with a Quadrille this time set by Grace and to include the word ‘flicker’ Here’s something that happened in town earlier this evening.


It’s a plague, of sorts.
The evening semi-thick with ants.

After months underground
they’re stupid with light and flight.

Lace-winged walking along footpaths
or bumbling through the air.

Black spots pock marking late
sun streams. Swifts flicker high

readying themselves
for an evening banquet.

At dverse tonight it’s Quadrille time set by Kim to celebrate the 50th anniversary of The Beatles iconic Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album. Consequently the poem is to include the word ‘pepper’.

He peppers his conversations
with her name, all the time
saying she is now of no consequence.

His favourite story is when they
flew to Oslo. Last minute
to see the northern lights.

He is anchored in a deep water harbour,
still not casting off.
No longer captain of his ship.

At dverse tonight it’s Quadrille time: a 44 word poem to include the word ‘storm’. This is actually something I saw while driving home from Exeter this afternoon.

He is working hard,
wing tip feathers flickering
like a silent movie,
tail constantly twisting and flaring.

He fights to hang his body
while behind a storm builds,
wind racing ahead of it .

Finally the buzzard surrenders,
is gathered up, hurled at the hills.

Recycling

Posted: May 9, 2017 in nature poems

At dverse tonight Bjorn Rudberg wants us to write a poem about soil.

Under a microscope
is an avalanche
of rocks and minerals

Boulders and stones
have been crushed
by elemental forces,

pounded out of vision.
Take a handful
of the remains,

fill a pot,
plant a seed.
Wait for a new world.

Silenced by the Sunset

Posted: April 11, 2017 in nature poems

Tonight at dverse Lillian wants us to take the top song of the year we were born and weave its title into a poem. Mine is Riders in the Sky by Vaughn Monroe ~ the big hit of <cough> 1949

riders in the sky label

Black specks of gulls
smudge a bloodied sky
as they head away
to roost for the night.
These riders of
the air spend daylight
blade whirling over town,
filling it with their
banshee cries. But
before a fierce setting
sun they become mute,
slip away down river
to some hidden place
and are pinned there
by the silence of stars.
Surrendering those
darkest of hours to
noiseless hunters that
cleave apart shadows
with sonar
and eyes
filled with light.

gulls at sunset