Category Archives: Quadrille

august and everything after

forgiveness comes injuts and startspieces,parts. and so does fear. here,questions unanswered,truths unsaid,his icy stare. there,a ragged hole in the wall;(not, quite)(not quite, yet)the last straw. just one more(sharp)tiny hole-punchto her heart. It’s Quadrille Monday over at dVerse, and I’m hosting. … Continue reading

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night shift

the stars are clocking inagain, twinkled noses setto grindstones. wishingmoments. filing awaythe hours. bathed in shine,we praise the darknessfull of shadowedsecretsand other unquietmatters of the heart. that swollen misfit moon,a work of art. ::I’m late to the party for this … Continue reading

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aubade with a broken smile 

morning breaks us open, and we ponder dragon-breath clouds and all that crimson fire.  we’ve already held these miles between our teeth and found them too salty, too muddled-much for day’s embrace.  the sky’s a quiet place to trace our last good -byes.  ::Linda’s got a great word … Continue reading

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sans 

i am -bic pen, a(r)che-typed in longing, serif soul smithed in mist and storm.  clouds are commas. this world:  a swirled parens awaiting closure, exposure to a lone ellipsis moon. sea-swooned,we would hold these truths, but nobody told us we could be  bold.   ::It’s Quadrille Monday over … Continue reading

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Another Pin-Pricked Sigh Sky 

I can’t think of a better medicine than stars for a ceiling. – Yellowstone  :: Now I lay me down                  (to sleep) my fears my tears the tired trappings of my heart.  A quieting restart,this midnight sky.  My wayward soul to keep,counting         (blessings) clouds as sheep.  Standing still, I … Continue reading

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is there anybody out there? 

when the tree falls                  (in the forest) for the sky do you and i hear it, across all these miles?  i know notof timbre falling ,but the stars are full of static electricity and the moon is all crescent cling and zing.  ::I’ve been gleefully out of … Continue reading

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poem stitched in sidewalk chalk 

this poem is neither here nor there,line nor square               (one).  she has scrib-bled her-self in sidewalk chalk, and then hopscotched across her own bright skin,left just one small skipping stone within.  shhh.she’s still here,still stained. waiting for rain.  :: In April, we poem. This is also a second … Continue reading

Posted in April PAD 2022, Quadrille | Tagged , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Murder of One 

There’s a lone crow on a power                                        (trip) line, squawking about somethingor other, and we’ve discovered there is nothing left to say.  Somehow, we are both here                (there, anywhere, nowhere) too lateand too soon.  Our only remaining evidence: this chalk outline                               moon.  :: It’s Quadrille Monday over at … Continue reading

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paprika poem 

spring flings in; we twirl and spin between the limbs and dance our -selves silly. the sky’s addicting.  maybe we’re high on dandelion fluff. maybe we’ve achoo’d our way to sun.  whatever the reason,we’ve decided spicy’s just fine for any scribbledseason.  :: It’s Quadrille Monday over at dVerse, and … Continue reading

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When the sun goes down and tomorrow isn’t promised

,  we (bold) blow our breaths loose and wonderwish a way to say   the stilted phrases,scattered phases of our long-lost selves.  we sold our souls for a star,and we’re sorry.  we hold our breaths for a silver-sliver of moon, a shiver of silence.  :: It’s Quadrille Monday over at dVerse, and … Continue reading

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