We brought our hopes with us
like bright embers, nursed
across a great white snow field
under a darkening sky.
We brought our fears, too,
the ones that scrabble sideways
in the dark, that wake us,
sudden in the shivering night.
But mostly hopes.
Victoria at dVerse is looking for quadrilles with the keyword “fear” in them. It’s irresistible.
Sources: quote: unknown
Underwater image: ©Phoebe Rudomino – and yes, this is an actual underwater set – follow the link to begin to check out her bio and google search her to discover more – you might need oxygen!
Bee image: sourced here: Pollinator Friendly Gardens
For a moment back there
I was a mermaid, swimming
freely, free of gravity,
the deep pull of the earth,
the dark hold of matter.
My skin whispered your name
and I drifted, like kelp,
danced by the ocean current –
but air called me, pulled me up,
out of the drowning noise,
the music that filled my lungs.
Air beckoned, and I rose,
leaving you behind,
with your empty words,
hands, eyes, your
ultimately empty heart.
Here among these rags and tatters,
Scraps of paper, scribbled lines,
I keep some things that really matter –
Images of older times
Scraps of paper, scribbled lines,
Crayoned letters, drawn with care,
Images of older times,
As if I could hold you there,
Crayoned letters, drawn with care,
A flower you drew, a finger print,
As if I could hold you there,
But years pass faster than a blink.
A flower you drew, a finger print,
So tiny, when I see it now,
But years past faster than a blink
And you are so much older now.
So tiny, when I see it now,
The past, compressed into a jewel,
And you are so much older now,
My treasure; shining, sunlit pool:
The past compressed into a jewel,
In all the chaos of my life,
My treasure – shining sunlit pool,
Warming my soul with quiet delight.
In all the chaos of my life,
I keep some things that really matter,
Warming my soul with quiet delight,
Here among these rags and tatters.
Jane gives us a picture of her writing space as a quirky prompt. As Jane is the Queen of Forms, I felt it was appropriate to attempt one. This is a pantoum, which I find strangely soothing.
First
flickering flame
torch bulb
never quite
lit
first drops of
dark
first painless
stain
first tears
For Paul over at Real Toads, on the other channel. A poem about a first.
Alice becomes her own protector
wrapping herself in red silk,
red velvet, applying
red lipstick, standing back
admiring.
Red stones hang at her ears
and throat.
She is a drop of blood.
Alice sweeps through the world
like a fine blade,
cutting the air,
slicing through words,
red is a warning.
Riding that mushroom again.
Sea sky
The sea anticipates me
as if my body, the touch
of my skin, will be the thing
that wakes it. It embraces me
slowly, taking it step by step,
so that I am gentled,
subdued by the water,
subduing in return.
Today, the sky
reflects the sea,
and I dive and swim
through fine white clouds,
fly through white crescent
waves, and the air
holds me, and the water
flows over me,
until there is a melding,
sea, cloud, sky, wave,
all one, all part of me,
me part of them,
and in my eyes
you will still see
the sea reflected.
This is for Kim at dVerse, who asks us to play with unexpected verbs. My time at dVerse has taught me that no verb is unexpected, but I’ve done my best…
We dropped her off for her first shift in her first job. Waitressing – a good place to start: learning to deal with the public, to cope with pressure, to stay polite. She was excited, and a little bit nervous. Not sure what to expect.
I went to pick her up at the end of her shift, four hours later. I was a little bit early, and she was a little bit late, so I watched her for a few moments, through the window. She was laying tables so they’d be ready for breakfast in the morning. She was in uniform – black trousers, black shirt, black apron – hair pulled back in a plait. She didn’t look like a little girl. She looked like a young woman, working in a restaurant.
We drove home, down the dark country lanes, narrow and twisting between high hedges, and she told me about the shift, the welcome speech she has to make to customers, the specials menu she has to learn. She’d had a great time, she’s looking forward to her first pay packet. When we got home, we both paused for a moment and looked up at the sky, dripping with stars, so tightly packed you couldn’t get a finger between them. Light spilled from our own kitchen window. We went inside.
Sky laden with stars
Light falls from an open window
Journey is ending.
Toni at dVerse has asked us to write a haibun on a topic of our own choice. The last few days have been all about my daughter. She’s had a lot going on, a little run of successes. I’m being a proud mum at the moment. Hey – it’s allowed! Be glad we’re not on Facebook, where you’d have to see proud mum pictures.
Days when I walk in the garden,
Early morning,
When the dew clings
To all green things,
Before the sun climbs up too high,
Burning the sky,
When each leaf glows,
Each flower grows,
Then I am open to the world,
My soul unfurled,
And I glow too,
And I grow new.
Frank is minding the bar at dVerse tonight. He’s asked us to write a minute poem – 60 syllables, arranged 844 x 3, with an aabb rhyme scheme. Frank is a bit of a king of forms, so he’s setting the bar high.
Alice holds the lilies
across her arms, admiring
the smooth, cold curve
of them. Snow flowers,
she thinks, and shivers.
She sets them neatly
in a vase, steps back,
sighs, thinking
they were not meant for
here. This room.
They should be somewhere
white and empty,
not here, where the eye
snags on an open book,
gets tangled in a red scarf
slung across a chair back,
lingers in a half full glass –
and they’re not for her,
but for some other Alice,
calm and collected, a girl
of simple shifts, and shiny
hair. Well cut.
Alice observes the lilies,
like a message, knowing
they have made
the first crack
in the eggshell of her love.
Back on that mushroom. Today’s prompt is ‘Lily’.
From here the land rises
like a green wave, so that
perhaps we cling
like fishermen to our
small boat. Are we afraid?
~For Lillian at dVerse, who asks us to be inspired by windows. I think there is more to say on this subject, and my picture doesn’t capture the perspective at all, which is a little frustrating.
Sarah writes poems 