Tag Archives: Q44

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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Black thrones waiting for finger strikes {Wooing the Muse} 

She’s a wily one-der, all curled up crescent like a soon-hiding moon.  She swoons at sea, sirened only by salt. (But she can barely swim and gets con-fused.)  Eyes closed, we clack. For our own   (sanity) sake, we eat cake.  And are not a-mused.  :: … Continue reading

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The Sacred Whims of Wildling Wood 

The forest floor is strewn with high-heeled shoes, for we rebel princesses have shucked our crowns and chucked our corsets and ditched  the bibbidi-bobbidi(boo)ballin favor of gentler things:  mirror ponds (fairest of them all),fiery dragon dances and fairy wings.  :: Linda Lee’s got a fun Quadrille challenge for us … Continue reading

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Leave your cares behind 

, at the Careen Canteen. Zip-zoom into something sipped, from sun-kissed chamomile tea to rum -bled phrase on the rocks, times three.  Come on in, here’s a g(r)inwith a hint of wry.  Before last call, we’ll shakeit all (fears, hope) into a slow-stirred sky.  It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse, and … Continue reading

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umbrella heavens

the year has taken much, and left us hollow.  we count sorrowson both hands and watchthe cold doors close. i suppose   of all these wayward things, i miss my -self the most.  i search the sky for rain and other groovy ghosts. It’s Quadrille Monday … Continue reading

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Follow that yellow brick

Tin man’s on the hunt again. She stole his Oz -heart, wrenched it from his metal chest and  smashed it all to bits. It’s amazing really, how soon  these creaky limbs bounce back, on track, reach for something new. Glue-thick as thieves. Red as … Continue reading

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the sky’s a curio cabinet of stars, with her at center

it gets curiouser and curious-er, her fascination with that sky sand dollar,that noble star scholar, mama moon. she swoons at crescent smile, a fine fool for full. you can question her about it some, but she has no words. only hum, and shine.  It’s Quadrille Monday over at … Continue reading

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an etched scratch scrape in a twisting sky

this poem is a tightly wound spring. she’s a  taut wound caught up in clacked-black things.  she’s got unspoken broken and unscattered seed, unpolished corners and unmet needs.  she’s a wayward kite on a fragile string. let’s unwind her now, and let her sing.  Lill’s given us a fun … Continue reading

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seeing red

the anger fades in lurid liquid shades of burgundymerlotsangria ,and the claret-y comes in wine and waves,saves us slowly sip by sip.  we slip our hands together in prayerand painand praise of slight squashed dreams and mangled grapes.  Linda’s got a great word for us over at dVerse … Continue reading

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smashed word broken

let it go — thesmashed word brokenopen vow orthe oath cracked lengthwise — let it go itwas sworn togo E. E. Cummings  we smoosh them between our hungry fingers like chalk,smudge them to the sky.  you and I, we’ve got them right were … Continue reading

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