Photo: Stephen Paris on Pexels.com
It has long lain
In limbo,
All voices ebbed
Into dust.
As silent letters
On chalkboard,
Watch the desks
Left to rust.
At one time
Children chanted,
Poems rose
Learned by heart.
But they’d grown
And time hastened.
School-house days
Did not last.
Now it sits,
Heart quite emptied,
And still waits
For the past.
For the dVerse Challenge: Limbo
He wanted her to spin
Straw
Into gold.
To make the mundane
Magic
To behold.
Though the metal
Nourished
Naught,
And left only
An empty
Cot.
Where with
Better thought
He might’ve
Got,
Riches which
Could not
Be bought.
Note: A little spin on Rumpelstiltskin
For Anmol’s dVerse poetics: Myths and Legends
Photo: Amitai Asif
What do you see
When you look, but
Do not
Actually
See me?
Is it the shadow
Of what you believe
You ought to
See,
Or the reflected
Image
Of what you wish
You could
Be,
Or what you think
I must be
In order
To be visible
Enough
To be verified
As me?
For the d’Verse challenge
For the A Photo A Week Challenge: Depth of Field
Photo: Amitai Asif
In the slowest hour of the night
She came in robes
Of dreams
To weave the nearest future
Into light.
She swished along the desert
Roads that only
Deepest yearnings
Take
And whispered:
It shall be.
You’ll find the path
To follow when you
Wake.
For the d’Verse challenge: Harbinger
Photo: Inbar Asif
Old it stretched
Brooding shade
O’er neat furrows made,
Watching new rows reborn
And the greens
Field adorn,
Growing tall, rising now
Making lush, anyhow.
For the dVerse Poets Challenge: Shed
Photo: Chagit Moriah-Gibor
As chilly nights
Churn cold winds
And unclothed trees
Hold branches
In a yearn
To huddle near,
Cherish the fleeting
Flowing moments
Of memory’s chalices
Filling with cheer,
As a child
Chants a prayer
And gently lights
History’s challenge
To despair
Lack
And fear.
For the dVerse Quadrille Monday challenge: Cheer
Photo: Dvora Freedman
After the fire
Come the expelled breath
Of sorrow,
The stripped soul
Of Earth,
The charred remains
Of dreams,
And the held breath
Of hope.
For the dVerse challenge: Fire
Photo: Karen Forte
The air pristine
On angels’ winds,
Unspoiled by what
Mans’ hands can bring.
In feathered clouds
And oceans’ swing,
It heralds surf
Of joy within,
To mark the waves
With dance that gleams,
And breathes along
A song to sing
For all that dreams.
For the dVerse quadrille challenge: Spoiler
Photo: Zaid Abu Taha on Pexels.com
She is early in birth
And early in breath,
Independent in all.
She’s come forth barely cooked
But is here even so
Stubbornly grabbing hold
Ravenous in her howls,
In a world just a tad
Unprepared
For her life-hungry spirit
And determined
Big soul.
[Dedicated to all the little ones who arrive exactly at the right time … for them. … and to all who work with them, to make it the best possible time and outcome.]
For the dVerse Poetry Challenge: Early in 44 words
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
In the curl
Between inhale
And exhale
Breathes an ocean.
In it all
That can ebb
And will flow
As we come
And we go,
Scent of eons
And life
Surf to soul
Calming strife.
For dVerse Poetics: Comfort Smells
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