dVerse Quadrille–Assault

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A Quadrille

Words force entry,
molest every conscious thought—
then, surrender, I must,
or endure unrelenting torture.

(Flames rage, out-
rage across our valley,
scorch acres
of pine, cheat grass–
assault, blast,
verdant mountain ranges
where wild life

Burning out-of-control,
Words hound me
like fire.

Posted for dVerse Quadrille where we are to write a poem of exactly 44 words that must include the word FIRE. Please join us.


Moon Muse–dVerse OLN

For dVerse OLN, I’m bringing a Quadrille with all the words thus far in the 2nd cycle.

Photo: David Slotto

Moon Muse
(a Quadrille with all the words as of 3/2/18)

Full moon murmurs,
My heart leaps. I rise,
her poem burning inside.
She begs,
With a bounce in my step,
I hurry outside.
Last season’s leaves crunch
beneath bare feet.
I find my rock in moon’s brightness,
sit, pen in hand, listening

Reno Weather Report

Reno Weather Report
a Haibun
Franks Tassone’s Haikai Challenge
dVerse Monday Haibun

Living in the Truckee Meadows, as I do, almost any kind of weather is not unexpected at any time of the year. In winter and spring, Reno suffers from winds howling through the passes of the mountains that led the Donner party to the inexplicable. Frost wipes out tree blossoms in full bloom. Fences succumb to gusts, while trees scratch the sides of our house in outrage. But once spring settles in, with summer close behind, there is no other place to be. Moderate temperatures, high desert’s low humidity, and yes, a cooling breeze in the evening hours.

gusty winds
move through early spring meadows
offer clarity

Written for Frank Tassone’s Haikai Challenge (Haru Ichiban–First Gust) and linked to my challenge at dVerse Haibun Monday (No Ko Me–tree buds, pending)

If you have never visited Frank’s website, I encourage you to check it out. He offers a wealth of information and stunning poetry in Japanese forms.

Adagio–dVerse Haibun Monday

Photo: David Slotto, Cedar Wax Wing in Our Ornamental Pear Tree

No Ko Me—Tree Buds
A Haibun

Outside my office window, on the second floor of our home, an ornamental pear tree shares the seasons with me. In summer, her leaves are full and green, offering their shade in the southwest, yet still allowing a view of the setting sun as he hops over the Sierra Nevada. A robin perches in her fluffy nest.

Autumn paints my landscape in glorious tones of gold and orange and crimson…a final shout-out before the now-brown leaves let go, returning to nourish the earth, revealing the tiny, inedible fruit that appears to be a berry. An influx of migrating cedar wax wings stop by to eat of her offerings, along with an occasional chickadee.

But it is in spring that promises pop out on all the gnarly little branches and as I wait for them to open, the return of wrens and finches fill the room with poetic song. This is the first movement of another year’s symphonic beauty.

brace themselves, appear anew
soon, a crescendo

Today, I’m hosting the Monday Haibun at dVerse. The prompt Kigo is No Ko Me–Tree Buds. To learn more and to join in HERE is the link.

Slow Burn–dVerse Quadrille


Photo: US Marine Corps

Slow Burn
A Quadrille

In my dream,
spot-fires bleed across the foothills,
crest on the summit,
swoop into our valley,
consume, burn

I sensed a restless-
ness last night
you told me
“It’s the weather,
the threatening storm.”

In the morning,
when I awaken,
you are gone.

Today I’m hosting the Quadrille at dVerse Poets and the word I’m looking for is burn. I took an old poem that was quite short, changed it up a bit, and this is what came out of it. This is fictional.

It’s Spring–Or Is It? Frank Tassone’s Haikai Challenge

Photo: Tomas Sobek via Flickr–labeled for non-commercial reuse.

It’s Spring—Or Is It?

The first year after we moved to Reno, my sister sent me a gardener’s diary. A thoughtful gift-giver, she knew of my newly born enthusiasm for the garden that we were able to plant in our large yard. Each week I dutifully entered notes: what we planted, sowed and dead-headed, the weeds we battled, the heights of the tomato plants and their yield, the weather conditions, what fared well, what needed more light or water, what didn’t make it. This journal offered us the surety that the following year we would know exactly what to do when spring first showed her colors.

The second year, I abandoned the diary. The slopes were open to skiers on the Fourth of July; tomatoes planted after the last snow on Peavine wilted; blossoms froze on the Stella cherry tree,which subsequently gave no fruit and the sweet peas and jasmine didn’t have a chance. Spring and each season that follows is a new experience every year. We have grown to love the adventure of extreme gardening.

Snow covers Peavine
Morning sun bronzes her slopes
Spring cowers behind clouds

Linked to Frank Tassone’s Haikai Challenge. Peavine Mountain is just northwest of Reno. Local lore has it that you don’t want to plant your tomato seedlings outside until the snow is off of Peavine.