Mulberry
Vincent, what skewed your branches, streaked your sky,
and drew tormented waters from above?
What crops, obscured by grasslands
pressed to earth?
What part of you
at rest beneath that tree––
now only your marker
left for us to see?
For dVerse Poets
To see other responses to this prompt, go HERE.
The Taste of Love
What we feasted on
in those first stages of internet romance—
when nine hours was too short a conversation—was words.
We passed on to the next stage of computer dating:
our first dinner date.
He watched on his desktop computer as I prepared a salad.
This was a long and lengthy process
I recorded as closely as was possible,
using the camera from my laptop.
A prisoner of his large unmovable console computer, I watched his empty desk chair
as he repaired to the kitchen to prepare his meal, hearing sound effects but little else.
When he returned to the living room, he laid his meal in front of his computer.
I had yet to see it as I, in turn, placed my salad in front of me and took my first bite,
watching closely my technique according to my Skype image.
I chewed politely and then smiled,
revealing the lack of lettuce shards on my front teeth.
I looked up. He was watching me as lovingly as usual.
Now, it was his turn.
What are you eating? I asked. Ham, he said.
He lifted a huge hunk on his fork, taking a dainty bite
and chewing happily.
What else? I asked. Just ham, he answered.
And so he demolished the entire pound of thick ham steak,
now and then washing it down with a healthy swig of rum and Coke.
Rum and Coke.
It had been one of our bonding experiences
to find that the drink of choice for each
was Bacardi Rum with caffeine-free Diet Coke.
How could this not be a romance made in heaven?
Culinary compatibility from 2,000 miles away
seemed to be less of a problem than it would be months later,
when we first made physical contact.
But, there was a resolution. He started munching on carrots and I had no objection to ham.
We discovered a mutual mania for potato chips, and true romance bloomed
when I found the full bar of Hershey’s chocolate atop his refrigerator.
Who says we need to concentrate on our differences?
For dVerse Poets we were to post a poem about internet romance in honor of Valentines Day
MAGA
Nose to nose,
we meet as one.
Our cause?
To hide
the smoking gun.
We have not even
half begun!
WISH
If I were more than
a toothless crone,
I’d gnaw our summer
down to the bone.
THE DEATH OF JUSTICE
Attempts to name it
were of no use.
Its means were silenced
by a swinging noose.
Justice arose
and is swinging loose.
Its long neck stretched
by long abuse.
On Track
Those nearest to us
cannot remove
that sure belief
in our mutual groove.
National Anthem
We crow its verses
to try to see
if they’ll renew
our liberty,
Lone Rider
We can’t assume
what we once knew.
Our van’s life passengers
(that sum of two)
no longer number
both me and you.
Buried Wisdom
We hide awareness
in deep dark caves.
The sea obscures them
in rushing waves.
The cream of sea foam
roars and paves
a ceiling over
truth’s buried raves.
The prompt for dVerse poets was to write a poem using one or all of the lines of words below, in the order in which they appear. I composed a different poem for each set.
nose – one – cause – even
were – crone – our – summer
name – use – means – arose
near – can – remove – sure
crow – verse – see – renew
assume – once- van – sum
aware – caves – sea – cream
To read other poems written to this prompt, go HERE.
Why I do not Ham on Rye it
You cannot borrow steal or buy it.
Sumo wrestlers never try it.
Female starlets do or die it.
Vitamin makers fortify it
You never cookie, cake or pie it.
Pizza parlors terrify it.
Now and then I me oh my it,
but I hope I don’t defy it,
for if I ever hope to guy it,
I simply must stay on my diet!
For dVerse Poets, a poem of negation.
Meadow Argus / Photographed in Solomon Islands / Michael Sammut
Meditations from My Room
I share different company in my isolation.
Dogs litter my studio floor,
and my backyard is
an in-between place for birds
passing as though at a freeway interchange,
this way and that.
A constant flutter of butterflies
stirs air around the orange and yellow thunbergia,
lush in this season that mixes sun and rain.
They soar down to the empty lot
and back again,
as though no creature can resist
collecting here in my domain.
Nature follows no rules of man.
It cannot learn obeisance or heed human leverage.
Our world, professional and polished—
how easily by nature now turned inward upon itself.
Our burnished world can hold no sway,
for nature heeds no golden cow.
Her empathy extended toward the broader view,
nature must change the things she can.
She has been patient with us long enough. The time is now.
For dVerse Poets
To see more poems written for this prompt, go HERE.
Remembering Grandma at Christmas
The years have chosen to abrade
the paper angel Grandma made
that year when Christmas cheer was thin,
because for weeks we were snowed in.
Even Santa ceased his action
for his reindeer had no traction.
Weeks of snow and sleet and fog
even kept the catalogue
from providing a Christmas doll
when Santa couldn’t come at all.
And so the holidays that year
did not reflect our usual cheer.
No tree, no lights, no heavenly choir,
our only heat a roaring fire.
We kids complained to Mom and Dad
and by Christmas Eve, they’d had
as much of kids as they could stand
and that’s when Grandma took a hand.
Her silver scissors nipped and flew
creating something that was new—
a Christmas angel feathery light
that floated that December night
above our heads in fire glow,
hung by a string, rotating slow
around the room with wafting wings
descending from above on strings.
And from the dark a heavenly song
prompted us to sing along.
My Grandma led, with timorous voice
that song that always was her choice:
“Silent night, holy night!
All is calm, and all is bright.
Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child.
Holy infant so tender and mild.
Sleep in heavenly peace.
Sleep in heavenly peace.”
One by one, we entered in,
our voices first halting and thin,
but when my Grandma chimed a bell,
our family choir began to swell
up to the ceiling, throughout the room,
dispelling darkness, cold and gloom.
Mom made cocoa on the coals
while Dad made popcorn, filling bowls
we strung on thread to deck our halls
from curtain rods to lamps to walls,
along with paper snowflakes that
twirled on their strings to tease the cat.
In the firelight’s magic glow,
they made things magical and so
every normal Christmas since,
we love our turkey and pies of mince,
Christmas presents to poke and squeeze,
bubble lights and towering trees,
but what’s most special is when Pop
puts Grandma’s angel on the top
of the tree covered in flakes
and popcorn strings the family makes.
And when we sing her special song,
if angels sing, she’ll sing along.
For dVerse Poets, the last prompt of the year is “Holiday.”
I wrote this poem 6 years ago. It may not be Kosher to run it by again, but then Chritstmas isn’t a very Kosher holiday at all, is it? Happy Holidays to one and all..be it Hanukkah or Xmas
The Prayer of the First Astronaut Poet
There is no Wifi in space
and so I send my words
out into the Universe
hoping that each syllable
will emit a ray
somehow connected
to all my other syllables,
and if quantum entanglement
is right, they will one day
find each other
again.
For the diverse Poets Pub the prompt is to write a Sci-Fi Poem
Within
Although they stand stiffly at attention,
these walls reach out
and hold me safe within their middle.
They stand guardian,
cushioning sound,
deflecting sharp edges.
Lucky me to have their protection.
Foolish me to leave their arms.
Yet the butterfly
soars over and away.
for dVerse Poets, the Quadrille Challenge prompt is “With.”
–Judy D-B
For dVerse Poets Pub, photo by Aaron Burden
To see the prompt, go HERE. The prompt quote was:
—whose hearts are mountains, roots are trees,
it’s they shall cry hello to the spring.
–e.e. cummings
Afterthought
I had this thought before you came along,
so whatever you thought I was thinking is wrong.
I wasn’t thinking your dress wasn’t right,
although now that you mention it, perhaps you might
choose one that was made for a girl of your height.
for the dVerse Quadrille Challenge, the prompt word is What. You can see how others responded to the prompt HERE. Image by Fray Bekele on Unsplash.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 