dVerse Quadrille–Assault

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Labeled for non-commercial reuse

Assault

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,
torment
verdant mountain ranges
where wild life
surrenders)

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.

regret. perhaps

Photo: Labeled for Non-commercial reuse Flickr

Photo: Labeled for Non-commercial reuse
Flickr

regret, perhaps

there are wounds
in your old soul
deeper than word-scars
trolling your mind

words spoken
hidden or feigned
words soaked in-
to your fragile heart

those penned
or not. razor-sharp
tracks that left only shards
of who you once were

or could have become.

Written and linked to dVerse Quadrille, a poem of exactly 44 words that include the word SCAR.

desert droughts and dirty laundry aka mixed metaphors

Photo: lessonplanet.com

Photo: lessonplanet.com

words,

like a drought-stricken desert

crevassed, cracked, parched

lie in piles,

crumpled at my feet

between loads of dirty clothes

i toss them here and there

furtively seeking

for an opening line,

an idea

they cascade slowly,

streak like bubbles

down the washing machine’s glass door

and disappear,

like so much dirt,

down the drain.

youtube

Tediously written for Tony’s prompt over at dVerse Meeting the Bar, where we’re invited to revisit any prompt from the last 6 months. I’ve chosen Brian’s–write a 55 word poem a la G-Man.

 

Very Little Gravitas Indeed

Farkleberries--yes, there is such a thing!

Farkleberries–yes, there is such a thing!

Fiddlehead ferns and farkleberries,
frolicking fun in dictionaries.
Farcical foodie festivity,
flagrantly fragrant felicity.

Rutabagas, rotund, rakish,
rollicking words like razorfish,
ravishing romance, ranuculi—
learn what they mean, or how to lie.

Artichokes, albacore, aperitifs.
Anisette, aubergine, tomato aspic,
Apple pan dowdy, ambrosia divine,
chill out and enjoy with a glass of fine wine.

If you’re a word addict such as I
finding new words gives you a high.
Webster invites you to grab his book.
Find something new—don’t be a schnook!

Written to NaPoWriMo’sDay 4’s prompt. I ran across the word farkleberries in the dictionary a while back and knew that someday I had to use it in a poem.
I’m getting a head start on dVerse Open Link Night. The bar opens Tuesday, 3:00 PM EST. Come by for a shot of poetry.

The Second Week

The Paradise

The Paradise (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In the almost-beginning, that is,
the second week of creation,
God created some letters.
He tossed them up, shuffled them,
and, voilà, they formed words.
God was delighted.
This is a great idea, God said.
Verbs and nouns work well.
He found that it was very, very good.

The second day
of the second week of creation
God decided he wanted to describe the beauty
that he had set in motion the previous week.
God came up with adjectives, adverbs,
metaphors, and all sorts of tropes.
He set about naming colors and shapes,
tones, scents, textures and everything
else that human senses could take in.
He got so excited that before he knew it
the third and fourth day had passed
and God hadn’t even had a nap.

Early on the morning of the fifth day,
God played with rhyme and meter.
The sounds of words flowed
throughout His Universe.
Once again, God was thrilled.
This verse is something truly enchanting, God said.
I wish I’d thought of it before.

That evening he thought he’d better check
in on the Garden.
There he found Adam and Eve,
curled up beneath the Tree of Life.
They had their hands cupped over their ears.
On their faces, knitted brows and pursed lips
spoke of their confusion.
God hadn’t planned on allowing suffering.
He realized the poor creatures couldn’t grasp the sounds,
so he told them, Relax, I’ll be back tomorrow.

True to his Word, the next morning,
just as the sun was peeking over the horizon
and the songbirds were tuning up for morning praise
God dropped in on the couple.
Holding his hand, was a young child
with silky black curls and a peaceful demeanor.
She wore a gauzy white robe
and carried a sheaf of papyrus.
Her aura was quite visible to Adam and Eve,
showcasing, one after another,
the colors of the rainbow.
Look here, God said. Look who I have for you.
And so it was that on the sixth day
of the second week of creation God created a Poet.
She’s here to help you make sense of it all, God said.

On the second Sabbath, that is,
the seventh day of the second week of creation,
God felt exhausted and Adam and Eve could hardly keep their eyes open.
So it happened that the three of them—
God, Adam and Eve, all rested together against the trunk of the Tree
while the Child-Poet-Muse read aloud.

I’m linking this whimsical story-poem, first draft, to dVerse Poets’ Pub Open Link Night. I have no intention of trivializing Sacred Scripture, but rather wish to elevate words, poetry and poets as a gift of the Creator.

You are all invited and encouraged to participate in this wonderful poetry community. Stop by and enjoy reading, and add a poem of your own! The link will be open Tuesday 3 PM EST.