Category Archives: dVerse poems

Greetings to 5am 

Posted on May 13, 2024 by whimsygizmo

Places please, the sun’s about to sneeze its way into this waking sky. And I am all pounding feet and quiet streets and trees waving their greeting.  Shall we dance? Give light and hope a living breathing chance ,some small reprieve?  Places, please.  ::It’s Quadrille Monday over at dVerse today, and I’m … Continue reading →

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Less Taken 

Posted on April 29, 2024 by whimsygizmo

There’s a quiet breeze whirling west today and these boots  are made for walking on cloudnine while the sun is high  in the sky and standing still. I feel like raising cane today.  Hey, let’s throw away our maps and blaze a trail.  … Continue reading →

Posted in dVerse poems, Quadrille | Tagged , , , , | 34 Comments

the weak at a glance 

Posted on April 15, 2024 by whimsygizmo

maybe by friday i’ll have the tenacity            (audacity)to get over you.  maybe by friday i’ll feel like burning your brown Henley, forgetting your smile. maybe by friday my heart will mend.  maybe by friday i’ll find breath again.                                        but today is only tuesday. ::It’s Quadrille Monday, and I’m … Continue reading →

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cutting off your hair (and other unconventional uses for a sword) 

Posted on April 15, 2024 by whimsygizmo

nobody knows she feels smallin this tower cage,fussy dresses, golden tresses                                      long                                 enough                                         to                                   climb. nobody’s asked if she wantsto marry the prince.  nobody knows her dreams – dragons, sails, shores ; places nobody knows her name.                                                  nobody’s seen her                                                                        since friday. ::It’s Quadrille Monday over at dVerse, and I’m … Continue reading →

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Broken, Open 

Posted on September 18, 2023 by whimsygizmo

He comes home (smash!)-ed again. Trashedand then: the hole in the wallthe weapon-words falling.  Everything stinks of smoke and Jim Beam, black.  He sleeps.  She sweeps,released.  Swaps violence for sigh-lence,andetch-aches some smallplace where she canbreathe at last.  ::It’s Quadrille Monday over at dVerse, and I’m hosting. Come play!

Posted in dVerse poems, Quadrille | Tagged , , | 52 Comments

Breathe in. Begin. 

Posted on August 21, 2023 by whimsygizmo

Okay, so the world’s a muddled, befuddled mess. Blessed. Stressed.  Best we hold our breaths and gather storms in silence.  I long for sea, and salt. Pocket pennies. Glass.  But for now, these things are mine:  a sway of ash,the promise of pine.  :: It’s Quadrille … Continue reading →

Posted in dVerse poems, Quadrille | Tagged , , , , , , | 39 Comments

the moon (and other broken mirrors) 

Posted on May 16, 2023 by whimsygizmo

– an aubade  :: mirror, mirror on (and off) the wall; so we say to seek our fairest days,find ways to catch glimpses of our  eyes in stormy skies,the face we look           (once)    upon.  Snow White got it right: the apple’s poison;         so’s the dawn.  ::Merril’s got a great Quadrille for us … Continue reading →

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spun 

Posted on May 4, 2023 by whimsygizmo

it’s begun.  the intricate weave of lines defined by strength, and shine.  i watch her knit her home – a laira net a perfect lattice -work of art.  alone in my own staggered start, i wish i had but half her focusher tensile power her sunlit gossamer beauty.  Kim’s got a … Continue reading →

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oh, blackbird with a crooked wing 

Posted on November 14, 2022 by whimsygizmo

all broken midnight feathered thing, shall you only sigh to sky? i crimp your caw to heart and i  long to loan you sting of bee and yawn of moonor paper dragon fire, the bold desire to build your           (wings)    self of steam.  ::It’s Quadrille Monday over at dverse, … Continue reading →

Posted in dVerse poems, Quadrille | Tagged , , , , , , | 20 Comments

Of death, and days

Posted on November 1, 2022 by whimsygizmo

(for my great-grandmother) And crabapple orchards and hand-carved woodtravel souvenirs and decades-oldhard candies in delicate dishes. Named Pearl,she did both agitateand shine. Her noodles were legendary.(I got sick on them once,and that was the end of that.) Her crooked old … Continue reading →

Posted in dVerse poems | Tagged , , , , , | 35 Comments