fallen

A triolet is a French form of 8 lines with ABaAabAB repetition…for dVerse MTB


 

wet scarlet leaves carpet cold ground

embraced with dew and kissed by mist

hidden in fog, pumpkins lie ’round

wet scarlet leaves carpet cold ground

ghost cows graze cornfield, make no sound

where earth meets sky in phantom tryst

wet scarlet leaves carpet cold ground

embraced with dew and kissed by mist

 

 

 

when “early” is a verb

 

when cows are mooing, hungry for hay

early me, early me, early the day

when love comes calling, sweetly we lay

early me, early me, early the day

when Spirit is whispering urge to pray

early me, early me, early the day

when open road beckons to journey away

early me, early me, early the day!

 

forecast blues

 

stuck weather pattern only brings more rain

while farmers ripe to harvest feel the strain

soybeans swell fat, cornstalks rot wet

without a crop, families grow debt

we hope and pray for sun to shine again!

 

(oh no, could that be snow?!)

 

 

 

Linking to dVerse  poets’ pub where Frank is toasting iambic pentameter…

yuck-a-muck

De at dVerse asked for this when she suggested a quadrille about “yuck”!


 

you may not be a fan-ure
because it stinks like sin
but maybe it’s called “man-ure”
‘cause men keep falling in!

if you come visit our farm
be sure to bring your boots
remember here in cow town
“bull sh__” has rural roots!

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word of the day

 

 

 

 

the nose knows

 

this poet followed nose to see

all the smells that comfort me:

new mown hay… alfalfa, please

fresh laundry dried on gentle breeze

strong coffee brew drips into pot

wood shavings piled under knot

just bathed baby’s silken skin (the

top of head where hair grows thin)

lilacs, idyllic of childhood play and

an orchid corsage on Mothers Day

pancake breakfast with bacon frying

crunchy leaves when geese go flying

salty spray froth-whipped by boat or

wrapped warm in mother’s worn coat.

 

 


Link to dVerse where poets explore comforting smells…

 

 

 

watercolor verse

colorful_colourful_umbrellas-1043217.jpg!d

 

Sky full of kites

or hot air balloons,

Parasol canopy or

favorite cartoons,

 

Gram’s flower pots

and sweet jelly beans,

Flags of all countries,

kaleidoscope dreams,

 

To color with crayons or

blow bubbles oblate;

God creates rainbows

— then we imitate!

 


A poem for children…and prompt hosted by Bjorn at dVerse.  (Image from pxhere.)

peace…and quiet?

 

pack me light

stamped for camp

undress the stress

in quiet wilderness

 

where grass rustles

stream gurgles clear

beaver crew bustles

clouds thunder near

 

meadow lark sings

mosquitos start riot

forest tree rings

stones, alone, silent

 


Listen to the “sounds of silence” with Dwight tonight at dVerse Poets pub…

 

anniversary pitch

Unknown

 

 

world of poets

online experience rich

blogger friends

a tapestry stitch

 

poetic minds wander like seven year itch

 

often words flow

without a hitch

but some prompts

induce writer’s glitch

while various sites

may bait and switch,

 

d’Verse welcomes all to find their niche!

 

 


Celebrate with us at dVerse Poetics Pub…cheers to seven years! (Pinterest quote by Markus Zusak)

birdie’s b & b

breakfast

image from Carpe Diem

 

morning of wedding
in small town setting
pass the raspberry jam

baskets of muffins
platters of melons
eggs with sausage & ham

under the arbor
of appetite’s ardor
the groom, his men & fam

raise teacups to toast us
(july sun ’bout roasts us)
antique china serves glam!

 

 

 

 

 

 


Eleven years ago today, our oldest son married his sweet bride in Corsica, S. Dakota. Our hostess served us a sumptuous breakfast out in the orchard.

dirt is to dig

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it’s spring! i need to dig in dirt
worm’s work brings happiness
while birds and bees MAY flirt

oh spring! i need to dig in dirt
even if knees might hurt and
fingernails witness a mess

let’s sing! i need to dig in dirt
worm’s work brings happiness

 


Yes, I like to dig in the dirt. Worms make me happy because they enrich the soil. Everyone should have a little plot of land or a pot of dirt to dig in. Gardening is an elemental activity, part of our DNA code; our calling to work the ground and take care of the earth. Photo taken by me with one hand, holding favorite garden trowel with other 🙂

 

inheritance

 

Mother died, age twenty-five

(of flu-asthma complication)

I, barely 16 months & weaned,

bereft.  of primal-love relation.

 

Passed fears of childhood years

(growing up with best-step brother)

when mom’s older sister said to me,

“you remind me of your mother.”

 

“Oh, tell me how, right now” I cried

breath-bated wait for answer

she smiled at me and said, ”I see

it’s plain-obvious in your manner,

 

Voice like hers & when you speak

your hands move just as hers had”

precious-treasure words I heard…

while mirror says I look like dad!

 

 

Kim is hosting inherited “body image” poetics prompt at dVerse Poets

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on weathering spring snowstorm

This could be a lullaby or children’s poem but kind of romantic too…what do you think?    The repeating question and rhythm is similar to a wonderful children’s bedtime book, Where Does the Brown Bear Go? by Nicki Weiss. 

 

where do red robins go

my love, do you know

where do red robins go

when it snows?

 

they hide in evergreen

branches, soft and low

they hide in evergreens

when it snows.

 

but where do sparrows go

my love, do you know

where little sparrows go

when it blows?

 

they don’t mind the cold

watch the birds to know

how to cuddle ~this~ close

when it blows!

 

 

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