All those unmapped journeys –
or the ones where the map
was a scrawl, and the one
where the map was a voice
saying here, no, here,
and the one when the map
was a song, half forgotten.
We were OK. We were always OK.
A quadrille for De at dVerse. Forty-four words, and tonight the keyword is “map”.
Sea has shifted the sand again.
Again, we’re strangers here –
here, where land meets sea,
sea carves and heaps, shapes,
shapes that curve and billow,
billow like waves themselves,
themselves sand. Here it’s new,
new as far as the edge of the sea.
a quadrille for Mish at dVerse, shift is our key word.
Each blossom opening
is a gasp. Oh, world –
so blue, so bright –
and each bird is a dance,
or a step in a dance.
Can you feel it? The
thrum thrum thrum,
the throbbing rhythm
deep in the heart
that demands to be sung.
A quadrille for De at dVerse. Sanaa is hosting and our word is “gasp”.
That day we looked at the world
through the pleated windows
of the ice. Circles we pulled
out of buckets, and the old green water butt.
We saw light, and crazy shapes
bent and kaleidoscoped,
and our fingers froze a little,
and the water dripped, until
the ice slipped, suddenly, shattering.
An ice quadrille for Mish at dVerse.
I miss the future – you know –
the shiny one, all ergonomic curves
and silver screens. The clean one.
I miss that hope. I miss the boldly going,
peace and prosperity, all that stuff.
Perfectibility. Hoverboards. Utopia.
What are we stumbling into?
Rain and the lights failing. Nobody home.
A bold quadrille for De at dVerse.
Some days, she forgets herself –
sugars the countryside,
adds candy colour skies –
a drift of birds –
and then remembers who she is:
monochromes the world,
deadens the light.
Some nights, she throws clouds,
but sometimes she can’t bring herself
to hide the stars. She can’t resist
the sparkle of them.
A quadrille for Mish at dVerse. Our word is “candy”.
All that sunlight
trapped here. A hundred years
of sleep in a green tower –
sunlight gathered, woven
into something solid,
light that murmured,
light that swayed,
light that knew the taste of soil
and the sound of birdsong
and the dark –
and we have woken it –
warmth spilling out,
golden and dancing
goddess again.
A quadrille for Ms Jade Li at dVerse. Our word is “warm” – perfect prompt for this time of year!
When the wind is high
and the waves leap and roll –
white maned horses
galloping ashore –
they say you can hear the bells
in the steeple ring,
and a child might stir,
or a mother turn in her sleep,
or a grandfather murmur a prayer,
but nobody wakens now.
A quadrille for Kim at dVerse – 44 words, including the word “bell”. Come and join us.
“My wife and I”, he said,
and everybody cheered.
After, we gathered round them –
“You’re punching, mate”
somebody said, “You’re punching”
and, smiling
he acknowledge it,
accepted it. Embraced it –
and she moved closer, nestling
in his circling arms, bird to his bear:
a small boat resting
in safe harbour.
a quadrille for dVerse – 44 words including tonight’s word: punch
there are fish of many types –
silver flashes of lightning
deep grey of storms,
rippling, shimmering
shoals of showers –
suddenly there, suddenly gone –
sunlight falls through
green reeds, swaying,
summer rains
dart and dazzle and dance,
and the clouds drift on.
A quadrille for De at dVerse – 44 words, including today’s word – “type”
Inspired by an image on Twitter from @PaulDragonwolf1
Sarah writes poems 