Category Archives: Poetry

Poems in many categories: Loss, NaPoWriMo

The Hunting for NaPoWriMo 2024, Day 19

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The Hunting

When bells toll at midnight, the chiming of each bell
signals that the scarlet one has begun the knell
to release the ghoulish souls and all the bats of Hell!

They seep up through our floorboards and wait for light of day,
twist themselves into our minds as we helpless lay,
toying with our dreaming as they pause along the way.

They seek out the damp corners everywhere they go,
trying to relieve the parch of the fires below,
cooling off scorched spirits in the river’s flow.

As a sort of trial, they may choose a wild horse,
winding bony fingers through its mane, they guide its course,
streaming through the heather and leaping over gorse.

But when dusk comes to dim the sun and tuck away the light,
it is the time for spirits to begin their fearsome flight
and the frightening of humans will become their main delight.

Then as children mime their horrors while going trick-or-treating,
when they see a darker shadow or hear a wild heart beating,
they may feel more evil presences in spirits they are meeting.

As they go door-to-door or wander a dark lane,
they may detect the real creatures that they seek to feign,
and feel a certain horror that they can’t explain.

So, children out on Halloween, heed each one that you meet.
Be sure the ghoulish one you pass really just wears a sheet,
and remember that a human ghost will be possessed of feet!

 

For NaPoWriMo 2024 Day 19  the promt is: What are you haunted by, or what haunts you? Write a poem responding to this question. Then change the word haunt to hunt.

Interlopers, For NaPoWriMo 2024, Day 16

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Interlopers

The little dog sleeps nestled.
No elbow room, even though
just two of us in this big bed.
A truck’s roar  from the road
a mile away. Last night’s near
partiers now gone to bed, but
at 5 AM, the strains of music
from below, Sounds lifting up the mountains
like clouds to float above my bed.
For 15 years, I surrendered
my side of the bed to you.
23 years after, I still
sleep on
the

                                                   other side.

For NaPoWriMo 2024 Day 16

Leaving the Beach at the End of Day, For The Sunday Whirl Wordle 646, Mar 17, 2024

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Leaving the Beach at the End of Day

The drifted sand over sun-baked clay
impedes our progress, prolongs our day.
A rose-red sun, gem in the sky,
a veil of pearl-white cloud floats by. 
We pick our way across the beach,
scarce foothold here within our reach.
Another page in our book of days,
grateful for an enshrouding haze,
our reddened flesh, lips split by sun,
are welcome payment for this day of fun.

 

For The Sunday Whirl 646 the words are: flesh sand clay scarce drifted pearl page split pick veil rose gem

“Same Old Story” for MVB, Mar 10, 2024

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Same Old Story

Each myth, legend or fairytale
from “once upon” to “fare thee well”
shares some elements of story
be they sad, uplifting, gory.

Always a damsel in some distress—
Rumplestiltskin’s name to guess,
for straw once spun out into gold,
or another story to be told.

Too much sleep may be her curse,
ugly stepsisters, or worse.
Murder, treason, sloth and pox
were emptied from Pandora’s box.

These troubles spread from near to far,
(although, in fact, it was a jar.)
Zeus forgave Pandora’s shame
and the imp revealed his own strange name.

But the other women described above
were saved by cleverness or love.
Scheherazade escaped the hearse
with stories, legends, tales and verse.

Cinderella rose from hearth and ashes
and Sleeping Beauty opened lashes­­––
both maids saved by daring-do:
one by a kiss, one by a shoe.

So whatever might have been their fate:
loss of child or murderous mate,
wipe tears and fears away with laughter.
They all lived happily ever after.

For the MVB prompt: Story (Image by Noel Nichols on Unsplash)

Roaming in the Gloaming, For the Sunday Whirl Wordle 645

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Roaming in the Gloaming

Breathing out a grateful prayer for our hours of  roaming,
I take your hand as sun-stained skies fade into the gloaming.
The seeds of stars emerge now, planted one by one
as the hand of evening smudges out the sun.

All our whispered promises made throughout the day—
I wonder what the chances are that they might fade away.
Will this magic that we’ve conjured retain its brilliant light,
or like the glorious sunset, simply fade into the night?

 

 

The Sunday Whirl prompts for March 10, 2024 are: wonder stained gloaming emerge prayer hours grateful seeds chances whispered smudge conjuring

 

“Stop Over”For The Sunday Whirl Wordle # 644, March 3, 2024

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jdb photo

Stop Over

Near sunset as the bright light fades, both minds and sky grow hazy,
and all the world shifts down a gear, relaxing into lazy.
Just one urgent swirling bee seems bent upon its tasking.
She lunges downward towards my drink, and lands there without asking.

She lowers her proboscis in order to withdraw
one drop of rum and cola that lies beaded on my straw.
A screaming gull unnerves her—sets her angel wings unfurling,
but her  frenzied efforts to lift off have set my mind to swirling.

Her movements are ungainly. She leans as though to fall.
Then clumsily, she flies away, colliding with the wall.
I question if she’s sober as she flies off upside down,
digressing over water, then careening toward the town.

It’s probable this summer day under a July sun
has fermented all her nectar and added to her fun.
Her slight detour while flying off to her abode
No doubt was her attempt to have just one more for the road!**

     **Can Bees Get Drunk?  In the summer heat, nectar can begin to ferment and create ethanol. Bees that digest this fermented nectar will experience the same effects as humans do when they consume alcohol. Also, tree sap, like that of the lime tree, can also ferment under excessive heat leading to crowds of drunk bees.        How can you tell when a bee is drunk? Studies conducted on bees have shown that alcohol consumption has a similar affect on bees as it does on humans.        When a drunken bee returns to its hive, the guard bees around the hive will identify it by its erratic motion and will not allow it to enter.

Dancing in the New Year, For Wordle 635

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Dancing in the New Year

One eye on the hourglass, sifting out the sand
belonging to the old year, yet swaying to the band
feverishly spinning in a shallow arc,
the partner that you dance with, caressing in the dark
shadows of the days gone by—three hundred-sixty-five.
Their pages scattered on the floor as you choose to jive.
Butchering the minutes that flutter ’round your feet
as your steps make light of them to the new year’s beat.
No aching gasps of nostalgia counteract the roar
of the new year’s entrance as you swirl around the floor.

For The Sunday Whirl Wordle 635 the prompt words are: shallow spin aching gasps scattered flutter shadows butcher hourglass feverishly eye

Broken

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DSC09968
Broken

Though I can’t say that I’ve been missing
hugs and cuddling and kissing,
still I have a memory of
those intimacies wrought by love.

It is as though there’s some obstruction
probably of my own construction
that makes me concentrate on things
instead of all that loving brings.

It’s true that objects may be lost,
but still, it’s not at half the cost.
For it is when loved ones are taken
that one’s world is truly shaken.

When objects break, it pains our purse,
but losing people is much worse.
For when death rends lovers apart,
the thing that’s broken is a heart

For My Vivi Blog’s prompt: Broken

Timekeepers

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Timekeepers

My dogs have clocks for stomachs.
I don’t know how they do it.
They value things by the extent
to which a dog can chew it.

Their feeding time is 8 AM
and without exception,
at precisely 7:59,
they demand  my attention

by pouncing on my stomach,
rousing me from sleep
so our kibbles appointment
I am sure to keep.

It happens every morning,
daily without exception.
It does no good for me to try
to practice a deception

by pulling covers over head
and feigning a deep sleep,
for my canine companions
have agendas I must keep.

Grumbling, I roll out of bed
to pee and then to sprint
to fulfill their 8 o’clock feeding
with no further hint!

So, seeing that I post each day
faithfully by nine,
do not merely credit me.
My incentive is canine.

Image by Cintage 72 Prompters: Zoe and Coco!!!

Prime

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Travel Primer (Past Our Prime!)

We wander narrow alleyways in countries that are foreign—
negotiate their tunnels, like rabbits in a warren.
We do not pay attention as we ogle and we gawk
who may follow closely—who may observe and stalk.
We are naive travelers. We’re innocents abroad.
One listens to our narratives, then signals with a nod
just as we are reaching to try to reimburse,
for another watcher to swoop down on our purse.
Then they’re off down alleyways where we are loath to go
where they’ll have their own adventures—financed by our dough.

For #SOCS Oct 7, the prompt is “Prime.”