"Everyday in every way I’m getting better and better" - Emile Coue
when cold wind settles, blanket
of paraffin wax
on sogging stalks
& petals
i throw my words up in the air
& see how some turn to russet,
gold
& pumpkin yellow
my eyes see the magic
fleeting sunburst
magnetic pull of
autumnal light
Salt and pepper clouds on pewter sky
Thick marrow, mashed with maple syrup
Pumpkin skinned rhubarb and apple pie
Drizzled curry and thick cream on vegetable soup
Fallowed leaves on twigs twisted in cinnamon bow
Bitter chocolate, cold wine, pints of sorrow on
fallen pine cones
Harvested pots of color: russet, crimson,
lurid yellow, blazing sepia & burnt amber on shelves
Faded photographs of black crows, echoes
of requiem mass
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight. Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST. Thanks for your comments and visits.
red maple leaves
blazing fire & frisson
feed
this simple soul
quiet space is growing
as autumn grips the sky
copper & russet
we fall
on bed warmed by hikes
our footprints invisible
by dying sun
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Three Little Words by Sarah.
I chose: Feed.Quiet.Copper. Join us when the pub doors open by 3pm EST.
hope is free
hope is a breeze across an open field
hope is a spoonful
of trouble, laundry detergent & rain clouds
hope is tea
spilling on my hands
steeping my words with prefixes & suffixes
hope is you,
in you
hope is the sun-
dress, flowers, shine, burst
of glass
when hope is lost
hope is a hoax
hope is not enough
hope is a golf ball
hope is a letter that never arrived
hope is (not) a thing with feathers
that sits on my table with porcelain doll
hope is a verb
hope is a muscle,
lungs, legs, arms, wings, claws, fingers
it is young woman who calls
Animal Services for help, waiting beside
a convulsing squirrel on the side street
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub- MTB, List that Google Gives Us - Hosted by Bjorn Rudberg. I used the tool, googlism to spark and find my poem.
His name was Jack, trader & trickster
Of perfumes & tarot cards of death
Carrie was young, dolled in her sister's
grey clothes, carrying basket of baby's breath
They met under bony tree, dire of pears
To exchange a letter sealed by candle wax
With a grin, Jack bowed with gentleman's air
And she smiled, preening feathers & flax
Her purse full, she'll meet him by lodging house
Tomorrow when the night is grey silver
And air is wanton whiskey & roasted grouse-
Jack rides off, salivating with thoughts of glitter
On a flesh cuddly soft as baby
Her swan neck, arching for fool's gold
Wait, what's her name? Jack's brain was hazy
His chest were knives, pressed so cold
With these blackouts, he was lost fish
Palm readings to find his landing, so tragic-
Carrie walked towards the market to buy fish
hooks. Her dagger & cord, ready to work magic
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - You Want It Darker, guest hosted by Lucy. Dark themes in ballad poetry form. Thanks for your visit and comments.
my tongue is spooning pumpkin soup
& warm bread
wrap me
not with wrath of pandemic's
second wave
nor with skein of its affliction
but with blanket
knitted soft as sky of maple leaves
red-smocked by evening sun
threading deeper unto shadows
of trees
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, where the given word is Blanket. This is a 44 word post.
Thank you for hosting Merril!
her ribs came from wood
of sufferings, swollen with moonlit tears
her eyes reflect solitude of woods
her arms softest of fiddlehead ferns
yet her fire from failures
carves her path now
into the next journey,
she is resolute, as her mother
& grandmother have been, welding
her words to burn at every dawn
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight, hosted by Mish. Join us when the pub doors open by 3pm EST. Thanks for the visit and comments.
