history tamed wild west

 

tailings of silver mine…

restored schoolhouse boasts

plank floor, rolled maps, stove.

main street brothels burned,

rusty bank safe deposited

in dry wash,  coal house and

water tank remember trains.

iron fence borders cemetery

atop boot hill,  rock piles

mark graves of ghost town.

 


Kim hosts quadrille#26 at dVerse Poets…write 44-words, including “ghost”.

hope for renewal

 

Linking a quadrille on theme of “dawn” with dVerse Poets this week…


now

aurora breaks

this fresh beginning

pink bud of day’s flower

best chance to start again

chosen expect a new dawning

resurrection of men and women

of every tribe, nation and race

new beings recreated, whole

tread gently on new earth

live together in love

 speak peace

then

whispered in forest

 

breathe clear mountain air

camp beneath whispering

pines listen to nocturnal

noise as whispers of clouds

shadow dance with haloed moon

campfire embers glow while

smoke-curl whispers spiral up

i welcome irresistible tickle

when you whisper soft into ear

warm touch overwhelms words

 


Joining De and dVerse Poets at the pub for a round of quadrilles…

crossing the quadrille

 
a bridge is a bridge is…

an act of faith

an art of engineering

an avenue of commerce

an advance of connection

 
a bridge is a bridge is…

an achievement of minds

an arch of triumphs

an arm of invasion

an altar of fire

 


Tuesday’s theme at dVerse Poetics is “bridge”…let’s play!

can’t live without scars

Read more quadrilles (44 word poem) on “scars” at dVerse Poets pub.

 

scars are marks

of prized memories,

show ‘n tell skin events

have made us who we are;

our lifetime misadventures of

bicycle stunts, high climbing feats

fake sword fights, rake encounters of

the worst kind, dull slips of sharp blades,

removal of warts, crazy cow kicks, and birthing.

 

screenshot-2016-11-29-16-23-39

billiards, anyone?

 

how to sink a

quadrille on “cue”?

first, eat plate of

tangy pork BBQ

at local pub

called “The Cue”

then, chalk up

tip of cue

call a pocket

sight level aim

at cue ball

in pool hall

take center stage

right on cue!


Linking to “quadrille Monday” at dVerse Poets with De.  I already voted but may need diversion from the hotly-contested election today!  Hope to read others’ poetry…

blues on a window(pain)

Linking “cloud” quadrille (44 word poem) with dVerse Poets…(photo by lynn)

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monday mood

in layers of grey

lowering, glowering

clouds are shrouds

for secret fears

and private tears

as each soul

only knows of

its own sorrows;

cannot fathom another’s

though true sisters/brothers

might try to sigh

with kindred spirit’s cry

in overcast

empathy.

 


“Each heart knows its own bitterness…  ” -Proverbs 14:10

hidden in shadow

Dedicated to the family of Henry Wynia, who passed away 8-27-16.

 

Beloved,

bereaved by

an accidental fall

into valley of death’s shadow

dark night of grief

He bottles our tears

father’s life in our Father’s hands

He battles our fears

soul rests in relief

under his strong wings’ shelter

a providential call

comforted by

Beloved.

 


A quadrille/mirror poem linked to dVerse Poets.

ephphatha: be opened

Prayer in “quadrille” form, exactly forty-four words…link to dVerse Poets


 

Open my hands

to receive extravagant grace

Open my ears

to hear shepherd’s voice

Open my eyes

to see beauty of narrow way

Open my mind

to know transforming truth

Open my mouth

to speak words of hope

Open my heart

to love courageously.

 


Jesus spoke “Ephphatha!” to deaf/mute man (see Mark 7:31-37)

seasonal affective quadrille

Written for dVerse poets quadrille #15 on “leaves” theme.
 

cicada chorus hums in grass

daylight shuffles a retreat

autumnal dirge crescendos fast

music follows frosty sleet

 

mournful geese raise the call

barren branches grieve their leaves

flutter down in wistful fall

time’s march sighs reprieve

 

when voice of pumpkin

sings ripely from garden

a perfect storm

IMG_1136 - Version 2
 

medication

cocktail clouds

mind’s darkening spanse as toxicity

to geriatric brain wreaks chemical jarring

of thought process;  hallucinations condense

in shower of nonsensical stories

that plop randomly from

slurred lips onto wary

ears of unnerved

family members

in search

of cover

from

stray

volt-

a

g

e

.

 


A quadrille (44 word poem) submitted to dVerse Poets on “jar” theme. 

savour the journey

 
each of us

chooses our own

pace on this

journey of life

 

some people rush by in a frantic hurry to get ahead of the rest

 

the poets

among

us,

start and stop,

pausing

to

admire

the weed that

blooms

in the

sidewalk

crevice.

 


Grace interviews one of dVerse Poets  founders, Brian Miller, and offers quadrille prompt on word, “journey”. 

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