Crystal Clear

(Photo by De an Sun on Unsplash)

 

She would have gone to bed

And let the mess wait

For the morning,

Or the following

Millennia,

Had it not been for voices

That still

Echoed

From her past

To smudge shame

Onto her

Present.

She grabbed the mop

And filled the pail.

 

 

 

For the dVerse poetry quadrille challenge: smudge

 

It Wasn’t That

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(Photo: Owen Vangioni on Unsplash)

 

It wasn’t that

Which killed the cat.

Not inquisitiveness in predawn

Hours

When any decent mind

Would sleep.

Not curiosity about rustling shopping bags

Left

Fending for themselves

Whilst humans fetch more from

The car.

But urgent greed

To speed

Through

All nine lives.

 

 

 

For the dVerse quadrille poetry challenge: curiosity

 

 

Not Yet

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(Photo: Rainer Krienke on Unsplash)

 

There is a scar ripped open

In the canyon

Of this wound.

Where sorrow has wound time

Around grief tighter than

Some

Assumed.

There are still pools

Of tears

Repeatedly

Bled

As future holds

Its breath.

To broken hearts

Peace has not

Come yet.

 

 

For the dVerse quadrille poetry challenge: wound

 

Tethered To The Queen

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(Photo: Andrés Gómez on Unsplash)

 

If only they had thought to mark their way, perhaps they wouldn’t have lost it.

Then again, the whole idea of running away was to forgo discovery. Leaving shiny pebbles would have made the whole endeavor be over well before it had began.

They trudged along. Bellies emptier than in hungry nights before.

There was a misery in a scrabbled-for freedom. And yet at least their torsos did not suffer the indignity of another whip.

Eliah’s stomach growled. He sighed. “Only mouths are we.”

“Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things?” Lilah responded, distracting him.

The boy grinned through tired tears. He knew the correct reply. The moon of course.

He pointed at the sky.

His grandmother’s nod was filled with pride.

For one was never lost while their heart stayed tethered to the night’s reigning queen.

 

 

 

For the dVerse Prosery challenge

Prosery prompt: “Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things?from Rainer Maria Rilke, “Heartbeat.”

 

Everything

(Photo: Inbar Asif)

 

It was everything

To her

To tend the naked vines that sprawled

Across her soul,

And through the long cold

Winter

To let the sun pour 

Over

The sprawling expanse of not-yet-sweetness,

As she hoped

And prayed

For fruit

Ripening amidst abundance

Into wine.

 

 

For the dVerse poetry quadrille challenge: Wine

Almost Grown Up

(Photo: Mabel Amber on Pixabay)

 

There was a moment between

Childhood and

Being almost

Grown up,

Where she knew that she would

Very soon be

Quite possibly

All tied up.

With chores and duties

Work and house,

Strung like eyes

On knitting needles,

In a knot of adult

Life.

 

 

 

 

For the dVerse quadrille challenge: Knot

The Addition

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(Photo: Simona Roubkova on Unsplash)

 

“What are you going to do with this thing?”

Leah shrugged, and watched as Marty circled the addition to their household, arms behind his back in what she thought of as his ‘Wannabee Inspector General.’

“It is useless,” he muttered.

“It is cute,” she said, and chuckled at the horror on his face. “In its own way, at least.”

For to be fair, the poor creature would win no beauty contests. Patchy hair, droopy eyelid, bloated abdomen. But there was a trusting glint in the blue eye, and a gentleness that sought her heart and hooked it.

“You’d do it mercy to put it down.”

“I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being,” Leah challenged. “If we can be of help, why not even try?”

She reached down to pet the pup. “Her name’s Pat.”

 

 

Prosery prompt: “I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being.” — Wisława Szymborska, “Possibilities”

For the dVerse prosery challenge

 

In A Heartbeat

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(Photo: Karen Forte)

 

The fog cocooned her.

A swift blanket

Of numbing

Penetrative chill

The sun could not

Expel.

And yet

A butterfly’s wing

Flicked against

Her cheek.

A kiss

Of warmer

Days.

A promise for

What what could,

In a heartbeat,

Thaw frost

Into bedazzled

Hope.

 

 

For the dVerse quadrille challenge: swift

For Carol. On your birthday in heaven. Butterfly kisses galore.

 

 

Long To Fade

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(Image: Alicja_ from Pixabay)

 

“Where have you been?!” her mother’s elbows speared the air like wings on a falcon, keen to dive.

The lass lowered her head and hiked her apron in an offering. The contents would not account for hours wiled away from chores, but they might reduce the heat of what promised to be imminent suffering.

“I went out to the hazel wood, because a fire was in my head,” the child demurred, unpinning one side of the apron to reveal a mound of early hazelnuts, “in eagerness to bring your favorite, Mother. Seeing how the morrow is your saint’s day.”

The woman’s scowl budged none. “A flatterer as well as an idle hand. I know a hasty crop when I see it. Now, as you are so eager, fetch a switch of hazel and I’ll give your hide a fire that will not soon fade.”

 

 

For the dVerse prosery challenge

Poetry prompt from W. B. Yeats

 

 

One For The Way

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(Photo: Dustin Humes on Unsplash)

 

She knew when she opened the window

That day

That it would be

One

For the way.

The frost on the petals

The chill in the air

The way that stray branches

Scraped against the stair.

The breath of new winter

Kissing her hair.

 

 

 

For the dVerse quadrille challenge: Way