When he speaks plain truth to himself, not often that is,
He whisper-tells that when he twists door handles, enters,
Rooms chill into icy, stony-silent, thin air.
But his deliberate shuffle awakens low-register murmurs,
Piercing, hot hissed hums.
Air full, no, fat.
44 word quadrille for today’s dVerse Pub
Lean down and let me kiss your furrowed brow.
Let me sweep away the shadowy doubts,
Brush them aside with symphonic flourish,
With a lover’s grand, poetic gesture.
An ode to our unparalleled connection,
A canto for the exquisite years we’ve left to be.
44 words for dVerse Pub’s quadrille prompt: poem
Tired times, waiting, fleeting, stolen.
Moments meant for someone else’s life,
Descend like sparse crumbs fall from the dinner table.
Mine to capture, hide, and cling to for all I’m worth.
Ricochet your guilt if you must.
Bounce back to me. Soon.
Startling crimson seeped across his chest,
Truth displayed for all to view,
Hidden wound of woe expressed,
Proud demeanor now unglued.
Shattered moans escaped blued lips,
Scarred broken heart made final leap,
Across the whitewashed room and splattered,
With love gone, it didn’t matter.
dVerse Poets Pub challenge – write a poem or short prose of exactly 44 words, including the word leap.
Shadows blink, Christmas lights twinkle, bright white, bright pink, on and off, on and off.
Yet no golden-present miracle nor present-giver appears, two times a loss of Christmas miracles for me, for me.
It seems an utter sham to swathe a house with fir, a house devoid of spirit and of cheer, cheery me, cheery me.
Will hark the herald angels music sing or let it snow drifts, will music change this feeling, feeling off, on and off, on and off.
Shadows lose their sparkle now, the day’s hope fading, the light turns dark, the bulb’s burned out, and so it goes.
Then there I go, off I go,off I go, off I go.
(from the archives)