Free gift in every packet –
in that anger you spilled
over the kitchen floor, there is
the seed of change, and in
that weight of fear there
is some love, and in
that great, grey,
overwhelming grief, you’ll find
a memory of joy.
A quadrille for dVerse – with the word “free” as the index word.
The dream shivered
shattered as I woke
and my reaching for it
ripped it further,
leaving me empty handed,
groping for something,
some significance,
some smile, blue shade,
scent of snow. All day
I have felt the weight
of it, the lightness of it.
She’s dreaming at the stove,
stirring the sauce,
but thinking of white sands,
blue seas, white crested waves,
a black horse galloping
across a green ocean.
She takes her dream
to the sink with her,
and the day outside
is full of butterflies.
A dream quadrille for Whimsygizmo at dVerse. Forty four words, including the word dream.
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.
Six flames
flickered on
the birthday cake-
pink icing
with white roses,
or green bubbling
frosting
or bright sunshine
buttercream
churned with
love
and words
so many words
stuffed between
cloudy layers
of sweet cake,
coiled dark, like
cherries,
words spilling
over the plate.
It’s dVerse’s 6th birthday, so there should be cake.
Scents flicker
as scents do
here/gone/here/gone
swift gesture
of honeysuckle
glimpse of
jasmine,
the stone
is warm
against my
bare feet
and dark wings
flicker
as the swallows
fly high,
darting,
dancing,
chasing the air,
scrawling
“summer”
over the
purpling
sky.
Happy 6th birthday to dVerse, happy writing and adventuring. It’s open again, after a summer break, and Grace asks us to use the word “flicker” in our quadrilles.
We picked our way down
to Peppercombe bay,
where the cliffs are paprika
and the grey stones wait
quietly, to be ground by the surf;
through the green hush of trees
to the place where there’s only
the wide sky and the salt sea.
Kim is our host at dVerse tonight. The prompt word is “pepper”. Peppercombe bay is one of our local beaches. You can find an image of it here. We didn’t go to Peppercombe this evening, but we were just a little way up the coast – and there were peppercorns garnishing my gin and tonic, so there’s obviously something in the air tonight.
Sometimes I dream of storms
and the violent washing away
of all this detritus – plastic bags,
furniture, paperwork
in ragged piles, all those
endless books, shoes,
smart shirts, faded jeans,
best china, glassware,
all flying
whirling, spiraling.
I dream of a wild wind raging.
Another one for dVerse. It’s quadrille night, and we are storming along for De. Go and check it out.
She wore a dress
like a summer storm
when the clouds bubble
impossible forms;
she brought lightning’s electric scent,
and the threat
of thunder to come
and yet
we were drawn
towards her light,
the brittle light
of just before
a June
downpour.
The very wonderful De is hosting at dVerse tonight. It’s quadrille night – 44 words – and the key word is “storm”.
Each sound
hangs
in the night silence
like a flame
in darkness. The tick
of the clock shimmers
like a stone in a well,
and somewhere
there is an owl,
lonely as the moon,
calling.
The house dreams
gently,
and I hear you
breathing
Victoria at dVerse gives us the word “sound” as our quadrille key word tonight.
