Winter nibbles away
at the days
until they’re pared down
slivers of light
between great slabs of dark.
Winter gnaws at leaves, at flesh,
bites down to the bone.
Winter swallows
warmth, sucks the heat
from under skin,
grinds life down
to shivering dust.
A quadrille for Mish at dVerse – 44 words, including the key word “nibble”. Come and quadrille with us.
She has always been an angel –
no tinsel halo or cardboard wings required
to make her glow, to give her flight.
She has always carried a star,
not a silver-paper, gold-sprayed star –
something clearer, brighter, stronger –
something that lights her up
from deep inside.
Quadrille night at dVerse. Join us there! Mish is hosting, and our word is “tinsel”.
Splitting one green stalk, then
threading through the next slim stem,
making a necklace, or a crown –
white petals tipped with pink, like shells,
or sunset clouds, or fingernails;
hot sun on my neck, legs stretched – grass tickling;
somewhere nearby a bird is singing.
Quadrille night! Our word is “crown” and the prompt is by De. Get over to dVerse to read the prompt and find more poems!
The trees catch fire –
flames flicker in the wind –
gold and red and amber –
and then the nakedness
of branches, ash-grey
against an ash-white sky
and deep deep down
embers are waiting
for a single breath
to leap up fresh and new –
green flames
I’m the host at dVerse tonight – it’s always a thrill to host the quadrille! Our word tonight is “ash”.
Oh, but the last wasps
are lingering at the bar
already drunk –
gentler than they were,
slower –
hoping for one more glass
one more song
one more stumbling/fumbling dance –
still chic, still slick,
still mumbling foolishly;
looking round, wondering
how summer left
so silently
A quadrille for Linda at dVerse
sometimes she stands
and lets herself
be an emptiness
where there is
no rain. Sometimes
she is the space
between sunbeams,
the stillness
within the wind.
Sometimes she is
a silence.
Sometimes she is
the pause before
movement, music,
laughter. Sometimes
she is
enough.
Quadrille for dVerse
I am
blotter smudger scrawler
you are
the reader of instructions
the careful butterer of toast
you
measure twice cut once
I
spill the milk I lose my keys I fumble
yet, somehow,
in this clash
we found a way
to build a home
A quadrille for dVerse – the word is “smudge”. Thank you, Mish.
Curiosity
says eat me drink me
takes the narrowest path
slips between the trees
curiosity turns back
the white linen sheet
hot wax drips
cinnamon-scented skin sleeping god
curiosity fumbles frantic
slick key screaming lock
pulls back the curtain
lets in the light
a curiosity quadrille for dVerse. Thank you, Whimsygizmo. Lovely prompt.
I’m yearning to sit
in a golden square
in the late afternoon light,
in that warm silence
that comes out of love
and needs no words.
I’m longing for a sip
of yellow wine, cold,
with condensation forming
on the curving glass.
I would have been gentler
with your knots and tangles
if I had known how soon
you would be curling,
straightening, colouring –
I would have
left them to form wild nests
and strange brambles,
I would have let birds sing there,
let flowers bloom.
Mish is hosting at dVerse tonight, and our quadrilles are based on the word “knot”.
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Sarah writes poems 