Poets and Storytellers Posted by Rommy

Image result for mottled moon with halo image

The night is still
no wind
it has moved on
leaving behind drifts
of snow and sparkling
tree limbs
icicles hang like
threads of tinsel
from the eaves.
The world is frozen
white and grey and black
and the sallow moon,
mottled and haloed,
freezes in place
in one corner
of a vast sky.

For this week’s prompt, I’ve selected a few poetic names from Bruce Hamana Sosei’s book, 100 Beautiful Words in The Way of Tea. Pick the English version of one (or more if the mood hits you) to shape your words around.

Zuiun – clouds that predict good fortune
Shitamoe – plants sprouting under last year’s dried grass or under the snow
Hatsuyume – the first dream of the new year
Uzumibi – buried fire
Ryokuin – green shadows (sunlight filtering through green leaves)
Hotaru-gari – go searching for fireflies
Tsuki-koru – the moon freezes

Bare Bones

dverse Prosery: Bone Weary Posted by Linda Lee Lyberg
Use the following line taken from Spring Azures from the book Wild Geese by Mary Oliver: “Sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy” in a 144 word story

All the memories of a lifetime rumble like an empty stomach. They want to fill me, comfort me, but they are poor fodder for loneliness. They are the great bones of my life, gnawed to a pristine whiteness.  A blessing and a curse for they bring happiness and pain. Yet, I don’t long for forgetfulness. How could I live without the memory of you? All the better and the worse as though it never happened? Night without the dreams of your presence?

No, not forgetfulness. I’d rather feel the hunger. I’d rather deal with the loneliness the memories bring than to forget and never remember you again.  I’ll carry these memories round my neck like a carved bone necklace and though, sometimes, the great bones of my life feel so heavy, they are after all what tethers me here. Keeps me from floating away.


This Poem is Not a Guarantee

dverse Poetics: Object Poems “title or begin your poem with “ THIS IS NOT A _________”
Posted by Mish in Poetics

People you love die
they do not come back
like a soft whisper
a filmy thing that caresses
the air around your lips
a shadow on the wall
the hair on your neck
rises at a chill only
not at a familiar scent
of bergamot and amber
the loss does not go
but ebbs and wanes
and the loneliness
is an ache under the skin
whose bruise fades
but remains tender
even after years and years
there is regret and what if only
and somehow you do move on
in a circle of doubt and hope.

A Pegboard Life

The Twiglets hung from pegs

See the source image

The pegboard took up half a wall
diplomas, awards, keepsakes,
recognition from a long life of
doctoring and humanitarian service.
After you died, we had the hard
task of deciding what to do with
these mementos of your life.
No one wanted to display them
after all they were your honors
not ours and yet to throw them
on the trash heap seemed too cold.
They were wrapped and boxed
and carted to the attic to reside
until a later generation with vague
ties could, without guilt, discard them.

Happy New Year

Image result for Champagne Toast Meme

Happy New Year
year after year
this one will be the best
we clink our glass to
Auld Lang Syne
kiss the new year in
and year by year
I’ve been blessed
within a tangled mess
of happy and sad
pleasure and pain
loss and gain
looking for utopia
getting some form
of dystopia
welcome some
God speed others
and live life
the best I can.

Dream Maker

Poetic Bloomings

“Brains are as unique as snowflakes,” David Eagleman  

The brain “has no direct access to the outside world. It’s locked in silence and darkness inside your skull,” says Eagleman. “Our brains have never seen the outside world, and yet we experience it.”

A dream within a dream
what does that mean?
Reality is perception,
perception deception?
My eyes see, my fingers touch
my brain tells me much…
sensory download
then interpretation
But, is what I see
what you see, too?
Is my reality unique
to me, yours tweak
to a different view?
Then my dream
is not your dream
and our dreams
are dreams
within dreams.

What is Reality? | Psychology Today

Stirrings of the Soul

dverse Posted by Laura Bloomsbury in  Poetics: Stepping Off the Sidewalk

“To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night” (Gibran)

It is easy to find peace in the country
solitude on a grassy knoll, soaking in the night,
where a golden moon reigns
an insect orchestra plays
and thoughts meander from star to star.
We’ve lost some of what we need the most…
to reflect, to pray, to meditate, to be in awe
of silence. Just one on one with the universe.

Crippled Universe

twiglet Looking for Light

“Everyone is an ocean inside. Every individual walking the street. Everyone is a universe of thoughts, and insights, and feelings. But every person is crippled in his or her own way by our inability to truly present ourselves to the world.”   Khaled Hosseini

See the source image

I am a person shaped ocean
kept tightly bound by physics
walking around timidly lest
I spill over my embankments

no one can see the waves of
me sloshing agitatedly inside
wanting to be understood
yearning to reveal my salty

refreshing scent of life just
under the surface. Only my
words come to the top and
break forth in poetic waves

thru my lisping impediment,
my light hidden beneath in
phosphorescence strivings,
hopeful meanderings of poem.

Post Script

dverse Posted by lillian in Prosery
YOU MUST USE THE LINE I GIVE YOU BELOW, IN THE BODY OF YOUR PROSE. “Reading what I have just written, I now believe” from Louise Gluck’s Faithful and Virtuous Night

Reading what I have just written, I now believe it needs an addendum.  When I said I was going to Cape Grave come hell or high water I meant every word but I didn’t go after all. I intended to. I was so angry that nothing could have stopped me. Then, Alice called, told me, sobbing like a child with hiccoughs and gasps, that Richard was dead. He blew his brains out. I hope it hurt. I hope it hurts throughout eternity.

You didn’t know I could be so spiteful, did you? Maybe you’ll want to reconsider your
proposal now. But, after what he did to Shelby… the doctors say she may never heal – mentally, I mean. She sits rocking, talking baby talk to her doll.  

I feel cheated. It was too easy and I wanted to… well, that’s enough. I await your reply.