Monthly Archives: March 2017

Irony is the skin on a smallish dragon

.. Or slate. Or steely gray. Yes? Perhaps no. Perhaps know her name before you define her, or the state of her skin. Maybe get to know a girl before you claim she breathes fire. Ay, me, but you’ve a … Continue reading

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.. to whom it need (evade) ………….concern, thanks for dropping by, but she’s busy (useless, really) , fumbling coffee on a coast -er, and wearing a sea foam bracelet …………..and a desk of sand. .. MizQ gave us a word … Continue reading

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a mishmash of blues

.. indigo done left me again, stranded on shifting sands. the world’s gone all gray tones again, sifted through empty hands. turquoise beat has done me wrong, imprinted on my heart. midnight’s spilled her way to sky, abandoned us from … Continue reading

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Ska Sky

  .. Staccato stars ………play …………….hide …and ………seek …..through cloud trumpets ….playing a trom ……..-bone moon.     .. Prompted by Poetic Asides.    ..      

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Etch your name upon my weathered skin

.. , and i will whisper you a secret or two, leaf-weave you a song. carve your heart near mine, that we might hum-strum this breeze in tune. my limbs do not grow tired or numb; my roots are anchored … Continue reading

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cold bones and afghan skin

.. patchwork quilted into another chilly dawn, she steels herself for a rattling winter wild with storms.   .. Twiglet #17.       

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sun(shine) on scattered petals

..   the sweet touch of spring months has longed us toward blossoming. plum tree adds her purpled snow. these velvet foothills are a low-hummed song; the sun’s a red smoke cask in a tangerine stew sky. .. It’s been … Continue reading

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oh, moon

… you bloated balloon, bubbleghost. giggle me green-rose into this shimmer -spring dawn; twist my breath to hold this whisperbreeze. i dance your grin in cue-sparked clouds – open, lulled, leaving. skip me loose; melt my journey in curl of … Continue reading

Posted in dVerse poems, moon poems, Quadrille | Tagged , , , , | 16 Comments

Her song has a small, slow leak

.. like a low moon, waning. , a pin-prick star -stolen breath. Stanza. Syllable. Sigh -lence. Sky. A tre(m)bled clef. Who knows? Maybe you will find your way ……………………….here and wonder why she’s still waiting for that tiny blue balloon … Continue reading

Posted in dVerse poems, Quadrille | Tagged , , , , , | 18 Comments

Paradise Ave

.. There’s a lady on the corner holding court with garbage rats and silence. Sometimes, she sings. This little light and the fight song from her alma mater. Most times, she listens; this broken breeze ballooning her sleeves as if … Continue reading

Posted in dVerse poems, Quadrille | Tagged , , , , | 41 Comments