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.
wine
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Tag Archives: quadrille
My daughter is getting ready to go out
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”.
.
Swift song
I am swift in flight,
born to pierce the air –
the sky weeps blue tears
and I am one. I am
the screaming in the wind,
the sunlight streaming –
I am an arrow shot
from sunrise to sunset,
the shot that
starts the summer.
My quadrille for my own prompt! My first quadrille prompt for dVerse. Come and have a look!
Moon quadrille
On winter nights I often
see the moon, caught
in the branches of a tree.
I wonder if she’s trapped
there, or embraced?
I should know. She
always rises, bright
and free. I should remember
that it takes a planet
to entangle her.
A quadrille for Merril at dVerse, where our word is “embrace”.
Fingerprints
She dabbles her fingers
in his dreams – leaves
silvery smears on every
surface – trails his desires
behind her, like a
fox-tail robe. She smiles
the way a cat yawns,
unconscious of teeth,
no malice, nothing
personal, just that need
to toy a little.
A quadrille for De at dVerse. Our word is “dabble”
Quadrille – as we sink
Abide with me, they play
as the clear, cold waters rise.
Don’t let me slip away
under the midnight ice.
As the clear, cold water rise
I reach my hands to you,
under the midnight ice
where the world is sun starved blue.
Lisa is hosting at dVerse tonight, and our quadrille word is “abide”. I’m making December a month of forms, so this is an embryonic pantoum.
Happiness can’t be pinned down
I thought happiness
was a thing of shape
and size and mass.
In fact, it moves,
flows, glistens,
slips iridescent
through my fingers,
expands unexpectedly,
shrinks down
to nestle in my pocket
a fractal thing,
folds under folds,
then suddenly
lost in the light
Grown up – quadrille for dVerse
My muck magnet
mud splattered
puddle stomping
jam smeared
crumb dropping
sticky fingered
paint splashing
pen scrawling
finger printing
juice spilling
boy
became
smart shirted
svelte suited
shiny shoed
smooth socked
slick haired
sparkly smiling
sweet scented
freshly shampooed
softly spoken
smooth talking
man
A quadrille is a 44 word poem. We write them at dVerse. De is hosting tonight, and our magic word is “magnet”.
Hold me
Weave me a blanket
of moonlight and mist,
of sea-fret and sunbeams,
to wrap me and rock me
and soothe me to sleep.
Fill me a pillow
with starlight and shadows,
with snowflakes and whispers,
to coze me and doze me.
Good night.
A little quadrille for an autumn evening. Merril is hosting at dVerse tonight, and our word is “blanket”.
Sky blue blue sky
I suckle on the sky –
drink it like Kool-Aid,
until my belly swells
full with
the blue of it –
the blue that seeps
into my fingertips,
my lips,
my hair,
until I piss blue,
sigh blue,
weep blue,
until I float,
fade,
disappear.
The inimitable Whimsygizmo is hosting at dVerse tonight. We’re quadrilling, and our word is “sky”.
