Tag Archives: dVerse Poets

Rich Harvest, for dVerse Poets, Oct 2, 2024

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Rich Harvest

The night that we brought in the wheat,
our weeks of labor now complete,
we raised our voices, beat our feet,
and in that stifling prairie heat,
weary and arm-sore, yet replete
with satisfaction for jobs well-done
earned in the dust and chaff and sun,
we ceased our labors and had some fun.

Hank gave the prim schoolteacher a treat
by lifting her from her safe seat
to move her to the fiddler’s beat.
Soon, her hairpins met defeat,
her wild hair anything but neat,
and Hank was heard to woo the miss
and then to plant a tender kiss.
She remembers all of this

now that their family’s complete
with Rita, Sarah, and little Pete.
Now every harvest, when you greet
each townsperson you chance to meet,
chances are they will repeat
how Hank brought in the wheat that year
and afterwards, conquered his fear
and dared to call the school marm, “dear.”

The dVerse Poets prompts today are harvest and haunting–to use one or both as our theme in a poem. It is a bit early in the month for “haunting,” so I’m sticking to the harvest theme. To read other poems written to these themes go HERE.

Seeing Off Joe

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Click on photos to enlarge.

Seeing Off  Joe

The birds were in attendance:­­
the pelican, night heron and snowy egret,
as well as his friends—
some in the boat,
others gathered onshore
to watch him swell his being
under a falling sun
in the  beginning of his final journey to every shore.

Mexican by choice rather than birth,
he floated, strung out
in ribbons
behind the boat
as we returned him
to his chosen place,
strewing our friend
like flowers.
Spilling him home.
Reaffirming
that we’re never lost to a world we are a part of.

 

For Quadrille Monday: Strings  (I chose to write a poem composed of two quadrilles.)

Home Improvement, For dVerse Poets, Sept 26, 2024

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Home Improvement

Some of us find the world
in the places where we were born.
Some of us can find no place there at all
except in retrospect.

We write books about these lost places
as though we knew what they were all about;
as though just by living there, we understood that place.
Actually, by writing about them we visit them again
and feel as much a stranger as we did before.

That is how we can stand to write about them.
They become the exotic other lands we’ve traveled to.
Misfortune becomes the best part of the story;
and we, at last, are grateful for it.

 

For dVerse Poets Open Link Night

Cicatrix, For dVerse Poets: Endings

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Cicatrix

I know better than you
what lies buried under
my healed-over self.

The raised part of me
grown to protect the wound
creates this distance
that I once warned you of.

I need to thicken that part of me
where part of you remains,
and if for this time you gasp for air,
it is my thick skin growing over you,
like an orb spider winding you in my web

until you become
the one in me hidden so deep
that even you
believe you’ve disappeared.

For dVerse Poets  I have used the “image” ending.
To see how others responded to the prompt go HERE.

“Novice” For dVerse Poets Quadrille Challenge: Vampire

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Novice

The world’s most darling  vampire needs some practice with his biting,
for he is not schooled in pursuing or in fighting.
His fangs have gone unpracticed in neck piercing and in ripping,
so his mouth is only being used for food chewing and sipping!

For The dVerse Poets 
To see other poems written for this prompt, go HERE.

Sleep Walking, (Four Lunes) for dVerse Poets, Sept 13, 2024

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Sleep Walking
(Four Lunes)

I wake exhausted
from walking in your footsteps
through my dream.
Then I wonder:
were we in my dream
or in yours?

Although you say
I visit you in dreams,
I don’t remember.
Perhaps that ghost
of last night’s lovely dream
was really yours?

If I manage
to find a way tonight
into your dreams,
how many others
will I find awaiting you
when I arrive?

Oh, what if
while I visited your dreams,
you visited mine?
What midnight irony,
if you were here while
I was there.

For dVerse Poets

To see other poems, go HERE.

Floating for dVerse Poets

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Floating

The tide comes in each morning,
bringing us new gifts;
transforming everything to sand
it sifts and sifts and sifts.

The frigate birds sail over all:
the headland and the town.
I don’t know what they’re looking for.
They never venture down.

A string of pelicans fly north.
Seconds later, they fly south.
I guess the reason is not one
has fish within its mouth.

The beach cat sits here looking
out to the open sea,
willing all the fisherman
to “Bring a fish to me!”

The tide comes within feet of me
when it is at its height.
Tucked away here, in the shade,
I do not feel its bite.

When tide goes out, I go with it
to float beyond its curl.
It does not know if I am fish
or shell or boat or girl.

For dVerse Poets: The Sea

“Bent To My Will” for the dVerse Poets Challenge, Aug 19, 2024

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Bent to My Will

Sometimes I feel it’s absurd
how I imprison every word––
take it from its family
to serve me on bended knee,
do my bidding, tell my tale,
imprisoned here in each poem’s jail
‘til other writers come along
purloining words in book or song.

For dVerse Poets Quadrille Challenge, the prompt is “Bend.”

For dVerse Poets

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Off the Path

I’ve always been a wanderer with no course firmly set.
The purpose of my journey is not established yet.
When my meandering’s over, perhaps it will be clear.
I cannot tell where I’ll be then. For now I’m merely here.

For dVerse Poets

See other poems for this prompt HERE. Image from dVerse Poets

Ball Mortality, for dVerse Poets, Aug 1. 2024

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Ball Mortality Thanks to Morrie

He gores them and he punctures them and rips them on the bias,
demanding that we throw them from the pool or on the playas.

Every time we throw a ball, he’ll chase it and then snatch it,
and one time out of four, he’ll meet it in the air and catch it.

Then he will purloin it and we find when he is finished
somehow our tennis ball supply is rapidly diminished.

This radical behavior is supported by each caster
who realizes unthrown balls are the real disaster.

And so our local sports supply store profits from our loss
because we have to soon replace every ball we toss!

Click on photos to enlarge.

for dVerse Poets the prompt is  Mortality.