(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
(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
(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
(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
(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
(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.
(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
(Photo: Stéphane Juban on Unsplash)
When the cold gripped hard
And pulled life from the sinews
Of the earth,
And when the wind screamed wild
Among the emptied branches
Overhead,
She’d seek the warm embrace
Of the inglenook’s fireplace
And write a book
Of summer’s heat
Inside her
Head.
For the dVerse quadrille poetry challenge: Inglenook
(Photo: Isaac Holmgren on Unsplash)
When all was said and done,
There was no question
Of whether or when
Or why,
She would be expected
To abide by all
The rules they had
Intended to
Apply.
The law was set.
The outcome clear.
She was to follow
And adhere.
For the dVerse quadrille poetry challenge: abide
Photo: Smadar Epshtein
“What does happiness mean,” she asked,
Her eyes round with the query
Of the lost
Awaiting to be
Found.
“It is the sun warming your skin,” he said,
His own eyes taking on the mist.
“And the unexpected sweetness
Of cherries on your
Tongue.”
For the dVerse quadrille challenge: Happiness
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