I Am of the Desert–dVerse Poetics

Photo: David Slotto

Photo: David Slotto

I Am of the Desert

I am of the desert.
The hunger of coyote howls in my bones.
My spirit knows the parched,
the arid earth.
But of the night I stretch my hands
to touch the moon, the stars.
I taste the flurry of colors
playing hide and seek amidst
the scrub of rabbit brush.
We are of the desert, you and I,
our names engraved on sandy slopes.
Together we await the wind,
the keening breath
that carries us to tomorrow.

Indeed, the desert is in my DNA. Written and linked to dVerse Poetics where the prompt invites us to write of the Southwest.

Desert Days Waning–dVerse OLN

Photo: V. Slotto

Photo: V. Slotto

Desert Days Waning
a Haibun

Winds batter our desert, stirring up water on the pond. Clouds hang over the mountain, try to decide whether to move on in and bless the valley with rain or to continue their teasing ways. The heady scents of warm-weather blooms fill the air as the sun begins his descent behind the Santa Rosa’s.

Six surviving baby ducklings grow rapidly, Mama scolding them for taking off on their own, without her protective oversite. Soon our finches, sparrows and hummingbirds will stop by and find that the feeders have been put away for a while, reminding them that they, too, need to think about migrating north.

I should be packing, but the allure of words drags me into outstretched arms and I succumb.

i am your poem
holding this moment in time
jasmine’s sweet fragrance

I hope you will stop by dVerse Poets’ Pub where I’m hosting Open Link Night. Bring a poem of your own–any topic, any form–and settle in to enjoy the work of our poetry community. And don’t forget–the prompt for Haibun Monday is open all week.

sere–dVerse Quadrille Monday

Photo: Wikipedia Commons--labeled for noncommercial reuse

Photo: Wikipedia Commons–labeled for noncommercial reuse


this wind has raped
the trees of leaves
and palms of fronds

dark clouds hang low
on mountain tops
but withhold rain

coyote prowls
the desert floor
seeking for prey
on arid land

sun soon will scorch
our arid earth
to our cha-

Written for dVerse Quadrille Monday where we write a poem of exactly 44 words, excluding the title. This week we are to include the word “grin.”

My poem reflects the current state of things in the California Desert. The rest of the state is getting much needed precipitation while we sit here looking at clouds that just don’t seem to want to give us a break. But then, this is the desert.

Fickle Spring


Sun invades water droplets on the sago palm,
transforms them into kaleidoscopic riots of color.

Desert springtime tears apart expectations, time travels
us to summer before our neighbors to the North think thaw.

Last Thursday the finches abandoned our feeder, silenced
their morning prayers, turned Northward toward home, fledglings in tow.

Soon shall we follow—encountering yet again the flourish of rebirth
or, perhaps, another freeze before nature makes up her mind.

Written in Response to Claudia’s prompt for Poetics, but linked to OLN. Looking forward to visiting in a few hours.


Today at dVerse Poet’s Pub, Meeting the Bar, I’m happy to introduce Pamela Sayers, who makes her home in Puebla, Mexico. I’ve always been impressed with Pamela’s ability to capture a sense of place in her poetry. Today she shares with us a bit about her own process of bringing us into the heart of Mexico, and invites us to join her by sharing something of our own, about the place we call home.

Photo: David SlottoChaparral CC

Photo: David Slotto
Chaparral CC

While I make my home in the high desert of Reno, Nevada–a short 40 minute drive to Lake Tahoe, when those cold winter winds and snows start getting to our old bones, my husband and I pack up the dogs and head south with the birds to Palm Desert, California. The desert is in my blood from my childhood, when we would head east from the LA area each April to soak in the sun and get our first sunburns of the year (big mistake).This poem is more of a reflection on what the desert means to me, than a travelogue. If you have a sense of deja-vu, I have posted it before!

I look forward to reading as many of your poems as I can and Pamela will support me since my husband and I are currently in the midst of a small renovation project.

Photo Credit: All Posters

Photo Credit: Tim Laman

Sometimes something
we judge to be barren
throbs with life.

Wind scatters sand
like gossips spread destruction.

If you go to the desert,
you will see the stars.
Perhaps one of them
holds your life purpose.
Then you are no longer
afraid of the viper’s kiss.

The power of thirst
consumes all other desires.

Shifting sands
are like people
who vacillate—
you don’t know
where you stand.

The desert is a canvas—
open to splashes
of vibrant color.

The desert is
a state of mind.
Are you alone?
Or lonely?

The desert is
a place of temptation.
There the devil tempted
Nothing has changed.

If you try
to leave your mark
upon the desert,
Nature will erase it.
We don’t really matter.

The hotter it gets,
the fewer people hang around.

Many people
do not understand
the beauty of the desert
or of wrinkled faces.

At some point
you will visit a desert
and discover

When the desert blooms,
you will find grace.