the death of innocence–dVerse Quadrille

Photo: Wikipedia Commons–Labeled for Non-Commercial reuse.

the death of innocence
a quadrille

she would fly away
she said
fly far away into the blue
blue sky to flee
unwanted touches

such a child
abused by trusted hands
has disappeared beyond
horizon’s view
within the sheltering basket
of a red and gold balloon

a child no more

De offers the word BALLOON for today’s Quadrille at dVerse—a poem of exactly 44 words. The word connotes joy, childhood, adventure in my mind but after reading an investigative report about an appalling cover-up by a local school district, I couldn’t go there.

The district ignored 34 years of student complaints about a teacher who was systematically sexually abusing them by issuing written warnings and transferring him from school to school. What were they thinking?

Chef David–Haibun Monday at dVerse

Photo and Pie by Chef David Slotto–Thanksgiving

Chef David

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

 

 

Spring Eternal–dVerse Quadrille

Spring Eternal

She’d lost the spring in her step,
(it’s true.)
But the twinkle in her eye,
mischievous,
kept her young—
an icon of joy.

“It’s love,” she told me,
“only love,
that makes me who
who I am.
No winter in this heart
of mine.”

Photo: David Slotto
My mother at age 90-something.

Kim is hosting dVerse Quadrille today asking for a poem of exactly 44 words, excluding the title, using the word SPRING in any of its forms. I was a bit surprised where this one took me. We would love to see you join us for the prompt that is available to you all week.

Anger–dVerse MTB

Art: Clyfford Still, on Pinterest

Art: Clyfford Still, on Pinterest

Depression is Anger Turned Inside-Out
A Narrative Poem

She hadn’t touched her paints for a while. In the other room an unfinished canvas lay propped on an easel. Orange and cerulean blue paint danced in cacophonous colors and screamed at her in taunting ecstasy. One evening she’d smeared a palette knife of black paint in a thick wavy line down the middle of the canvas—the result only heightened the drama. She abandoned her work for now—she couldn’t paint and wouldn’t write—not since he told her he wouldn’t see her anymore.

Today, dVerse Poets, hosted by Frank Hubney, invites us to submit a narrative poem–as I see it, a bit of prose that is written poetically. That implies incorporating poetic elements such as metaphor and sensory details, active verbs etc. This is a tiny piece that I adapted from my novel “The Sin of His Father.”

Desert Mosaic–dVerse Haibun Monday

Desert Mosaic

Photo: Victoria Slotto

Photo: Victoria Slotto

A sharp breeze from the southwest snaps flags—reminders of Presidents’ Day and the aftermath of recent rain showers. White clouds pool in mountain crevices—fluffy bowls of whipped cream or meringue. Sunshine breaks through, coaxing the dogs and I to cross the street in an attempt to offset desert chill. Black crows that circle overhead caw furiously. Sparky and Zoe bark back as though to protect me but I press onward, ignoring the chaos, and I consider how nature gives freely of her beauty.

rainy winter days
rare but pregnant with promise
carpets of color

In the years when we are blessed with abundant rain, the desert floor blooms forth, splashing color everywhere.

Written for and posted to dVerse Haibun Monday where Kanzen Sakura asks us to consider how the best things in life are free.

 

adult coloring is all the rage

adult coloring is all the rage

Image: sketchport.com Labeled for non-commercial reuse

Image: sketchport.com
Labeled for non-commercial reuse

when you rainbow me
red me, read me

when you paint me
green me, grow me

when you ade me
yellow me, drink me

when you hurt me
blue me, cry me

then i dream you
find you, taste you
rainbow you too.

For dVerse Open Link Night, with a nod to Lillian’s prompt for Poetics–verbification.

Ordinary Days

Photo: Pinterest

Photo: Pinterest

An Anything-but-Ordinary Day

At last the skies have opened
pouring rain upon the thirsty earth.
Desert sands, parched and waiting
oh so long(ing) tremble

And it’s another ordinary day.

trembling planet full of fear
lies shivering beneath the threat
of such extremist hatred, waits
for peace to soothe her wretched want

And it’s another ordinary day.

Surprise! This morning nature sent
a flock of wood ducks to our pond
mingling with their mallard hosts,
white heads bobbing up and down as one.

And it’s another ordinary day.

I shy these days from news,
from such contentious falderal.
See how they mingle on the lake—
these ducks—ignore details that divide.

And it’s another ordinary day.

You turn to me, desire in your eyes,
that smile that thrilled me many years ago.
I take your offered hand in mine again,
remembering those words–and still I do.

So, thank you for this ordinary day.

I hosting today at dVerse with a prompt for poetry that uses repetition. Hope you will join me.