They rose in steady hum of
Motors aiming to break
Clouds
And dispersed the waves upon the
Sand as life skittered
Aground.
They pointed nose into the
Sky with souls holding on well
And fast
As engines revved anew
And headed home
At last.
For the dVerse quadrille challenge: sky
Photo by Eric Muhr on Unsplash
She was not a country bumpkin
Though she aspired to
Be one.
So she dressed the part
And practiced
How to walk and talk
In twang,
And she hoped to look
Uncultured
To the folk stopping
In store,
So they’d believe
She was
Hardcore.
For the dVerse quadrille challenge: bum
Photo by Stella de Smit on Unsplash
She walked along the beds,
Hands trailing over stakes
Heavy with vines
And sugar snaps.
Orange peeked
From underneath green hats
Far too wild for small heads.
Blushing tomatoes danced
Cheek to cheek
With peppers.
She smiled.
The garden will make
Good salad
Tonight.
For the dVerse quadrille challenge
Photo: Andrey Grinkevich on Unsplash
There would be no smooth solutions
No easy way to extract
Themselves
From the tangle
They had let grow
All around them.
Only one way out was left:
Through the bramble,
Through the sorrow
Through the scars that would
Need nursing
Back to truth.
For the dVerse quadrille challenge: Bramble
Photo: Sean Stratton on Unsplash
She knew
She was due
For some blue.
She felt the tug,
The subtle hue,
Sliding her joy askew.
A clue
For what the next step
Would do.
The polar opposites
That made her into
Two.
Her mood on queue
For an internal coup.
For the dVerse Quadrille challenge: Blue
Note: Dedicated to my friends who walk the tightrope of bipolar disorder. I don’t know what it is like to be you or what you go through, but I see you and hear you. You matter, complete with the ups and downs within you.
Photo: Koshu Kunii on unsplash
No humdrum moment.
No silent pause
Or rest.
The tempo of the chanting
Rises
As crowds flow
And crest.
They march to call
The winds
Of change
To come,
And heed the soul
As hearts’ pain
Hums
And drums
The need for
Better times.
For the dVerse quadrille poetry challenge: drum
Enslaved persons cutting sugar cane on the Island of Antigua, 1823, (The British Library)
She fed them well so
They would
Sleep,
And silently
She gave the slip,
To all she knew
Yet did not sweep
Away the bite
Of whip.
She fled,
So the child in
Her belly’s keep,
Would not writhe, helpless,
In another person’s
Grip.
For the dVerse quadrille challenge: slip
(Note: Dedicated to all who suffered and still suffer under the yoke of injustice, discrimination, racism, and pretense. We can do better than this. We must do better than this.)
Photo: Will Malott on Unsplash
She refused to budge
Or borrow.
She would not allow herself
The slightest
Reach.
“If it ain’t broke,” she said,
Hiding sorrow –
Holding on to life
In tatters
Yet refusing to
Give in even
A stitch –
“There is no need to seek
A fix.”
For the dVerse quadrille challenge: Fix
Photo: Smadar Epshtein
Silly Billy was too chilly
So he too a little nap.
Silly Billy did not really
Think it would cause him mishap.
Frilly Tilly woke him shrilly
And with very little slack,
Sent him home and told poor Billy
That he isn’t welcome back.
For the dVerse poetry quadrille challenge: silly
Note: I find this photo too delightful to use only once… So if you think you’d seen it before, you are not imagining things … 🙂
Photo: alexandra lammerink on Unsplash
She did not know how
To have her heart
Be known,
Other than to
Let her spirit
Be flush with
Hope,
And to allow her
Soul to
Blush bright
With the
Intent,
Even if
Her words paused,
Timid,
From the moment
She’d left
Home.
For the dVerse quadrille poetry challenge: flush
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