Zippo snaps, sparks the flame,
Essential for this daily tinder routine.
Zig zags contain dusty, seedy remains of
His birthday stash from Lex and Jean.
Dad’s lighter, used over years
Engraving’s worn off and disappeared.
What a crazy old ride from cigar to spliff.
Photo by Evan Phillip on Unsplash
Written for this week’s quadrille prompt on d’Verse: use some form of the word ‘zip’.
My days as dangerous and echoing as a tin with razor sharp edges thrown into the bin.
Then summer. You.
Your free spirit like birdsong, trilled,
Found me, loved me, filled my world to bursting.
Egg shells cracked mosaic-like,
Fledgling life peaked through.
For Monday’s d’Verse Quadrille prompt: Egg
Sinewed hands grab my shoulders, shove me sideways down unfamiliar streets.
Glowing in the distant dark there shimmers a landed mermaid, enchanting, enticing,
Melting in the tarnished silver spoon I wasn’t born with.
Burns my hands. Burns my veins.
Soundless, the world is ash.
44 words (quadrille) for d’Verse. Prompt word: burn
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
Two in the morning, I can’t sleep so I wander into the front room and take your favourite book from the shelf, a garish, broken-spine paperback, not to read but just to hold, because there must be some molecules of you still attached to its tattered pages. I smooth the front cover, perhaps hoping the book will act as a talisman and that my actions might affect time and ignore the laws of physics and recreate you, and perhaps hoping that God or whoever can hear my thoughts will bring you back to me.
I’m dizzy with loneliness and I understand now why we humans think the heart is where love resides for it there I feel empty and yet full of pain at the same time. I ache for the impossible. I need to see you.
When I was at the grocery store yesterday, I stood at the cash register lineup and I remembered you, three months ago, so tired and weak but still insistent on helping with household chores, leaning on me for strength and resting your chin on my shoulder. You only did that once. I didn’t want to move. I wanted to share that moment of peace forever. And, I wanted you to know you were safe.
It’s silly sometimes. I remember exactly how high I reached when I straightened your shirt collar and how you would lean down a little bit to make it easier for me to tie your tie, even though you made a much better job of it than I ever did. I remember the comfort of your arms wrapping around me. I remember the warmth as you slept beside me.
So tonight, I take your book, and my memories and strange notions back to bed. And I pull the blankets around me for warmth, and I cradle your pillow in my arms, and I close my eyes so I can see you and be with you, again.
From the archives – 2014