Limerick II for dVerse MTB
There once was a damsel from Kerry
who dated a bloke oh-so-hairy
when they kissed she would flinch
leaving him was a cinch
since the hair on his back was quite scary.
I once knew a lad from Killarney
Who had a good buddy named Arnie
In spite of his name
His golf game was a shame
But the scores that he posted: pure blarney.
Couldn’t resist a 2nd one for dVerse MTB. The rhythm gets stuck in your head.
Now for a bit of whimsy as Frank treats us to a limerick prompt at dVerse MTB. I could go on and on.
There once was a dragon named Tony
he fell like a rock for a pony
she got such jolt
she took off like a bolt
now poor Tony thinks romance baloney.
There once was a guy who loved money
But could never impress his true honey
‘Cause he spent it on wine
and she saw not a dime
so she left him alone—what a dummy.
Here’s one I posted for one of Madeleine’s prompt:
A woman who always felt free
Burned her bra when she turned twenty-three
Now at age sixty-eight
She is rueing her fate
As her boobies keep knocking her knees.
Photo: Victoria Slotto
Be still and know that I am God. Psalm 46, 10
All is still this morn—
the pond outside my window
mirrors palm trees and mountains
sends ripples through this quiet time,
butterfly slashes blue sky
with gold flight,
two small wrens
attack a crow.
all is calm this gentle morn
This week’s Quadrille at dVerse, hosted by Grace, asks us to write a poem of exactly 44 words, exclusive of the title, using the word STILL.
“The drop is a small ocean.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson
They walk by,
enveloped in concern,
oblivious to oceans of beauty
that surround them—
• undulating water in the stream caressing the rocky earth beneath
• a tiny leaf unfurling her greenness on a distant branch
• mockingbird chortling joy upon his treetop perch
• little mouse, concealed beneath hosta’s broad umbrella
• droplets of dew flashing seductive rainbows from every blade of grass
• and me.
I was the first to open,
now one among the many,
lost in a swath of golden beauty.
I offer my delight
only to go unseen.
I have been, for the most part, unable to be a part of dVerse for a while. Back toward the end of March, Mish invited us to write a poem from the point of view of nature. In a feeble effort to play catch up, this is mine, posted for OLN.
World Bank Photo Collection–labeled for non-commercial reuse.
I am afraid to grieve—afraid that if I open that door a crack those other monsters hidden in the shadows will creep in and invade my peace. Is it because that loss began so long ago, when the brilliance of her mind began to dim, when judgment fled and anger peeked between the clouds? Or has the “business” of dying obscured the underlying pain? And when that’s done (if ever) what awaits? I dread am afraid of grief.
ducklings romp outside
april joy plays in sunshine
hawk swoops in, devours
Kanzen Sakura asks for Haibuns written on the subject of our most honest fears. Visit dVerse Haibun Monday to share.
Labeled for non-commercial reuse
Labeled for non-commercial reuse.
Last night I dreamt of
feathers and shape-shifting.
Today a wren perches on a naked branch
outside my window.
the tree is in full bloom.
I miss you.
De Jackson is asking for Postcard Poems, that is, poems of 12 lines or less, at dVerse Poetics. Please join us.
Photo and Pie by Chef David Slotto–Thanksgiving
Have you ever wondered if the one you love, loves you in return? With the same intensity? With the same care?
I watch him stir, measure, taste, chop, add, stir again. I watch him labor over a pot of lactose-free milk slowly simmering, evaporating so that I can enjoy the same Thanksgiving pumpkin pie as everyone else in spite of my finicky digestive system. I watch him unload groceries carefully chosen after meticulous examination of labels to rule out dairy. Do you know how many cheeses are made of the easier-to-digest goats’ milk?
It’s that measure of attention, that extra spice that flavors every meal he prepares with that delicious spice of love.
on a green hillside
ewes drop spring lambs one-by-one
cheese in the offing
Note: Once when making a silent retreat in Pennsylvania in April, I stood and witnessed the birth of a couple of dozen lambs, all within a few hours of each other. Truly amazing.
Today for Haibun Monday, Kanzen Sakura asks us to remember one of our favorite meals–a hard task for me since I have enjoyed so many thanks to my husband who does all the cooking. I chose Thanksgiving.
Photo: David Slotto–herbs from the chef’s garden
Photo: David Sl