My midnight garden
has a lavender shimmer
jasmine-flower stars –
and candles that glimmer –
see fluttering bats
and moths agleam
as the scent of roses
inspires sweet dreams –
the moon swings low
and the moon swings high
in a silver swing
made from lullabies
Victoria is back! Guest hosting at dVerse,where it’s quadrille night. Tonight we’re quadrilling about gardens.
You are scratched and stained,
purpled with juice
– autumn came –
and the fattest berries
hang just out of reach
or at the limit
of your stretch
and those bramble thorns
dig into your clothes
so that you have to wait
impatiently
to be released
Linda is hosting quadrille night at dVerse. Forty-four words – our prompt word tonight is “bramble”.
She won’t march
to the beat of your drum
she’ll only dance
to the sound of her heart
he won’t fight
to the call of your drum
he wants to dream
to the sound of the rain
yet you still drum
For Mish at dVerse, who’s drumming her fingers on the bar waiting for our quadrilles. In a good way.
The hedge is heavy with summer.
The deer is suddenly there,
suddenly still. We freeze.
One ear flicks forward.
Our eyes meet – we are not predator –
as suddenly she slips off the lane,
into some place of myth
where we can’t folllow her.
Linda is hosting quadrille night at dVerse today – and our word is “slip”.
I mixed a bit of Fix-it
to fix a pesky hole.
The Fix-it fixed my fingers
to the Fix-it in the bowl.
So if you mix up Fix-it
I suggest you use a stick:
if you stick your stick to Fix-it,
so what?
A very silly poem for De – WhimsyGizmo – who is hosting at dVerse tonight. See if you can guess what the word is.
Let’s get silly
in the kitchen –
let’s be indiscreet –
let’s crank up
that music and
cook up
some hot beats –
let’s knock out
a rhythm
on a baking sheet –
crash some
saucepan cymbals,
bang some spoons
and stamp our feet.
A more cheerful quadrille for Lillian at dVerse. We’re being silly tonight.
Oh my silly heart
and love clowning in
with all its grief and glory
and mascara trails
and the madness
of it all. Phone numbers scrawled
on scraps of paper,
fluttering down
onto the rails
and the sunrise
oblivious.
Youth’s a foolish time.
A quadrille forLillian at dVerse. Our word is “silly”.
The door is closed
but the window’s open
and from this shaded room
I see the sunlight
slantwise on the grass,
the flash of celandine,
and I hear the small birds
singing
and the rooks grumbling
and that’s enough
but not enough
De is hosting quadrilles at dVerse, and our word is “close”.
We’re fresh out of magic –
used it heedlessly,
thinking there’d be more –
frittered it away
on ball gowns, slippers,
golden apples –
now we need it –
just a pinch
would be enough,
but look –
the jar is empty
and the world is dark.
Linda is hosting at dVerse tonight, and the quadrille word is “magic”.
Something stirred
as the moon crossed the sky
and the stars turned
their slow stately waltz.
Something stirred
as the night creatures
snuffled and rustled
through the long grass.
Something stirred
in the night, something turned,
sighed,
shifted deeper into the darkness,
sighed again.
