Songs, Sirens, Starlings

..

Treble-tremble me loose
oh,
{adagio slow}
untroubled and stanza’d
soft.

Hold me. Un
-fold me to the tempo
of timbre trees,
slur me
………….{legato}
to an indigo sky.

Cadenza me
a seasoned sonata
chant,
a rococo rant,
a tiny shanty by the sea.

..
Victoria has us making music of words over at dVerse. Come play. 

 

 

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shimmy, shimmy


….
she cocoa
-pop slides
right up into the sky,
all smoky and serene
and screened in by
curtain clouds.

she’s a sly one,
not shy; golden
dress slinky-twist
fresh from sunset’s
blush, sequin-ready
for
anything.

oh, she’s got
secrets; things
she’ll never tell.

her silhouette’s
a shiver
…..tease
casting her spell.

 

 

..

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So, duh



Call it what you want
(depends on where you’re from).
It’s just a fizzy drink,
and arguing is dumb.

Some call it simply “soda,”
while others call it “pop.”
And any brand can be a “coke;”
it’s all just sugar-slop.

There’s no need to debate it,
or make fun of someone’s drink.
To pop a vein over soda semantics
is silly, don’t you think?
..
Prompted by Poetic Asides

 

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Disaster

..

Take your
(basting)
brush, and paint it
in broad strokes: the stupidity,
the closed eyes,
the half-baked
lies.

Measure
(sift, swallow, spill)
………….time.
Know it’s gone.

Allow your heart to be
stirred
(whirled, blended, pulverized
into pulp)
by the wrong
(lost, tossed)
………….soul.

Let
……..(sorrow)
stand.

Serve cold.

..
Today at dVerse, Mish has us mixing up recipes for something other than food.
Come play! 


 

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Full Moon in a Snowstorm, Waiting

..

Dance, tiny bubble shimmer girl,
skirted in skip and spark and shadow
-spill.

There’s a scar-breeze breathing
open your grin. It leaves us lulled,

pulled,

cued to cloud
and snowmelt, twist of green shoot,
gathered rose.

We hold our smallest journeys
in globe-jars.

Shake.
…………..Behold.

 

 

..
A second Quadrille for today’s prompt. I’m hosting over at dVerse. Bar opens at 12 PST.
{This is the one in which she uses ALL the words.} 

 

 

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Crescents in an Open Sky

 

She’s got stories on her skin,
places the world has mapped
her, trapped her, set her loose
again.

She’s got scars upon her heart,
asterisks and small ellips
and reminders
that the world is good and true
and round as a fat full moon.

 

..
I’m hosting the Quadrille today over at dVerse. Bar opens at noon, PST. Come play! 

 

 

 

Posted in moon poems, Quadrille | Tagged , , , | 31 Comments

Missing Now


….
We’re shaggy
(shabby)
happy in our own nudge-gnawing,

spells broken
open, stalked straight
past the broken open vine
of silence.

Give me a shrinking
(drink me)
potion, a way to Wonder
-land that spills me past
all this damn ticking time
(bombs). Give me back my
muchness, the pulling back
of masks. The queen of hearts
worn on tattered
sleeves.

Leave me mirror
-less, unphoned.

See, we rise.
White-streaked
in all this black sky.
Wayward.
………………..Home.

 

 

..
Shawna gave me a wordlist, which always inspires some fun. :) 

 

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