Right now, it’s just me and the blackbird
him singing, me wording. Oh, and the fresh,
new leaves on the crabapple,
wondering at the world. And the daffodils,
of course, still hanging on.
And the cherry blossom, and the celandines.
It’s morning, and the world is still
pulling the covers over its head –
except the magpie hopping down the road,
and the rook circling, and the blackbird
singing, singing, and me wording.
A slightly smug morning poem for Laura at dVerse.
I choose to sink
I choose to curl over myself, like a fox
I choose to lie in the dark
I choose deep water, I choose to hide myself down in the dim light
I choose to be wounded
I choose my wound
because
I choose love, always love
I choose to open my heart to the sky
I choose flight, the high circling flight of the hawk
I choose flight, the slow hum of the bee
I choose to stand on the shore, I choose the noise of the sea –
I choose to feel the wind pass through my skin
you know
I choose both
I choose light and shade
I choose stillness and movement
I choose this
I choose it all
Big time repetition – we’re looking at anaphora at dVerse. Come and join in!
Her taste is spicy – she loves
that chilli burn, the warmth
of peppercorns. She seasons.
She likes those
rich brown flavours –
nutmeg cinnamon,
cumin cardamom
She squeezes lemons,
grates the yellow rind,
she chops the green herbs
coriander rosemary
oregano thyme
basil tarragon
she gingers, garlics,
tastes and tastes again
wonders what’s missing
A quadrille for Lisa at dVerse. Our word is “season”
‘All has become quiet in Moscow.’– Count L N Tolstoy, The Cossacks,
She stands in silence
holding an empty sign
because words have lost
all meaning now
words have become sounds,
the way a gull cries,
the way a fox barks in the night –
the way a bullet flies
the way a bomb falls
the way a boy cries
mother
mother
mother
A poem for Linda at dVerse, who gives us a selection of famous first lines.
Things happen. Yellow flowers
find their way into the sun.
Bees hum. Bees hover,
catching the light.
Jungles form – tanglings
of green and brown –
things creep and glitter –
life is messier than we imagine.
For Brendan at earthweal.
While everything else is wondering whether spring is on its way or not, the wild cherry in the top corner makes a leap of faith. White blossoms, splashed with palest pink at their heart, they cluster together, dancing in the wind.
first step
into sunlight
blinking
A haibun for Frank at dVerse. Is there anything more appropriate to haibuns than cherry blossoms?
and now, everything is confetti –
the flowers are confetti,
the birds are confetti,
and they throw their songs in the air
to float down round us, like confetti
come June, we’ll be plumper
and drowsier, we’ll be soft,
but right now, we’re urgent –
we’re rushing to leaf and to bloom and to shoot,
to confetti.
A poem for my prompt – colour me poetry – at dVerse.
The white narcissi
are cut from white paper,
and the buds on the cherry
are tight knots of tissue,
and the daffodils, the celandines,
the pink magnolia
are paint splattered across
the page
and the sky is as blue
as a bowl, smudged
with thumbprint clouds
just the glorious
messiness
of spring
A quadrille for De at dVerse. Our word tonight is “paper”.
After it ended, I burned the hat –
or no – I shoved it deep
into the bottom
of a black plastic bin-bag –
or no – I left it on a bench
in a park
under a tree with scarlet leaves
and I walked away
feeling the sunlight
on my head.
My god, I hated that hat by the end. This is for Mish at dVerse.
“Mama, what did you do in the Kingdom of the Sky?”
“I wandered”
“Lonely?”
“As a cloud, I was never lonely. Clouds are always clustering together, sharing gossip. The moon is lonely, sometimes. I would visit her and drink pale tea and tell her stories. When I was a star, I spent hours on the phone to my sisters. We would wave to each other across those vast distances.”
“What did you like best?”
“Being a cloud. I was close enough to see what was happening down on the earth. People would look up at me, children would give me shapes and stories. But I liked visiting the moon, too. I liked her sad music and her translucent biscuits. I liked to see her smile”
“Would you go again?”
“No. I’m your mama, my feet are firmly on the ground. Go to sleep now.”
A prosery piece for Lillian at dVerse. 144 words, including the quotation. This one is so famous I’m not going to insult you by picking it out!
Sarah writes poems 