fasciation – notice them! paired poppies growing upon single stem
beauty ignites in blood orange passion bright flames rise from ashes
smoke ruffles edges of petalled glory; will love burn out its story?
fair summer love goes to seed in autumn seeds spread if wind caught them
Grace suggests we break up the couplet at dVerse today! I wrote an ekphrastic poem and tried “split couplets” with lines of uneven feet. I also learned new word: fasciation.
Fasciation is a rare condition where the growing tip of a plant becomes flattened or distorted, causing it to produce fused, doubled, or twin structures like multiple flower heads sharing a single stalk.
Cow’s skull with calico roses by Georgia O’Keeffe, 1931
Inspired by ekphrastic poetry class with John Sibley Williams. Also linking to dVerse poets where Kim asks us to respond to classical piece, Adagio for Strings, by Samuel Barber. I think the phrasing of music and poetry fit together to interpret the painting.
who expects classical sculpture in rural iowa town?
life-size figures of carrara marble (think italy and michelangelo) set with care inside massive stone shrine
rocky labyrinth of many rooms, this grotto of the redemption hides like xenolith within prairie bedrock
created by concrete-mixing priest.
The Grotto at West Bend IA
Melissa hosts quadrilles (44 word poems) at dVerse Poets. Theme is”xenolith”which is a fragment of foreign stone trapped inside larger igneous rock.Photos by lynn_
To be an independent person is that even a goal? in puzzle of humanity, all pieces interdependent… Or overthink, think, think it and become co-dependent when one marries you are ONE whole/half holey person; impersonate or get personal flesh will mesh, soles mate (maybe, baby—by wearing each other’s shoes) but if it don’t fit…it pinches! walk it out anyway or choose friendship only, still grow old lonely i wonder who/whom we really DEPENDS (trademark) on ?!
risky either way and “we’re out of your size,” says shoe sales person. Repeat after Dr. Seuss: “A person’s a person, no matter how small!”
Grace hosts a descort prompt at dVerse Poets. The word descort comes from the idea of discordia or disagreement. Variations in rhythm, rhyme, stanza shape, language, or voice reflected tension and emotional conflict within the poem itself. The traditional themes of the descort are inner turmoil, emotional conflict, and unrequited love.
Marry me in the same small town church where my parents married. I’ll wear my mother’s sleeveless wedding dress, featuring lacey arm gauntles and wide hoop skirt covered in lace. Shall I wear a hat or veil? My bridesmaids will wear peach street-length dresses and carry sheer parasols.
You will be handsome in broad-shouldered ivory tux trimmed in dark brown. Mother says no cowboy boots! Our brothers, as groomsmen, will wear brown tuxedos with matching bowties. Your nephew can bear the rings on a pillow and my cousin’s daughter can walk down aisle dropping rose petals.
Let’s decorate dais like a garden with latticed arch and baskets of mums. The church ladies can serve barbecue beef on buns with potato salad, frozen fruit cups, and wedding cake. After our reception, you can drive us away in antique buggy, proudly pulled by your horse, Ginger. We must keep our final destination secret!
on lawn of stone church
congratulations and punch
spill like summer petals
Linking to dVerse poets where Mish hosts haibuns on wedding bliss. My husband and I celebrated our 43rd anniversary this past weekend!
if planting a butterfly garden for me, invite white doves to flutter by for tea inside the gazebo, set quaint table there. don’t wonder or worry what you will wear; dress in blush, butter yellow, or emerald sheen like the flowers, who have no need to preen. serve english tea with sweet cream and a scone, listen as honeybees dance their way home.
“If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?” Matthew 6:30
Melissa hosts landscape poetics at dVerse where we explore the art of Egon Schiele. My ekphrastic rhyme is in response to his painting, House with a Bay Window in the Garden (1907)
“Tickle me!” little girl demanded. Grandpa would oblige until i laughed to tears and, gasping for air, finally screamed, “Stop!” which he always did, with a grin.
Now history repeats as I witness my husband “tickle torture” our own granddaughters, floored in loud protest.
“The lady doth protest too much, methinks” – Shakespeare
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A quadrille (44 words) on the theme: protest. Read more at dVerse poets pub.
My brief book has arrived and I want to share it with you! Similar to delivering an actual baby, when you write a book and gift it to the world, you hope it doesn’t say anything foolish and that other people will like it.
This is a mini memoir about our family’s experiences raising cattle. It also includes some poetry…and cow jokes. If you live locally, contact me for a print copy. If at a distance, you can read online by clicking the photo link on my blog’s “About” page. Enjoy!
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