Cello Fellow

Photo by SilverGardenia

Music from a charming fellow

Pulling notes from an elegant cello

Glides over small flowers yellow

Sweet and soft and mellow

Written for dVerse Open Link Night

Drizzle

Image by tuptus1703 from Pixabay

 

down falls the drizzle

without a hiss or sizzle

as slowly it chisels

against pale cloud frizzles

adding to the sky’s grizzle

until at last it all fizzles

with the last drop of mizzle 

Written for Moonwashed Musings

Wading

Photo by Pascal Bernardon on Unsplash

She walks where waterlilies bloomed
Nearby the hanging boughs of yellow leaves
Lift on the breeze before falling doomed
Rippling where the watered mirror receives

Anything it can from the open air’s open hand
Here she removes two well worn shoes
Paying sure tribute from the upper land
And wades where e’re she’ll choose

 

dVerse challenge using these words in order near – can – remove – sure

 

 

 

Fairytale

Photo by Bob van Aubel on Unsplash

Within the tower,
Imprisoned.
Counting each hour,
Sits the monarch
Bespelled.
Waiting for a spark,
Dreaming of rescue,
Wishing on fallen stars
For a daring coup.
Aid finally calls,
Shattering spells.
Returned to his halls,
The monarch bestows
Honors on her,
His valiant knight.

 

 Written for dVerse.

 

Vie

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dragonflies supply vat dye,
Whereby tie dye neckties
Dandify shy magpies,
Defying sly butterflies
Plying fluorescent dye,
Applied on bow ties.
Thereby war cries zip by,
Spry allies stand by.
Nearby, horrified walleyes
Clarify, rectify, pacify.
By and by, mollified spies
Buy shoofly pie.

 

 Written for dVerse.

Walleyes are a type of fish. Shoofly Pie is a pie made with molasses.

Here Comes the Thesaurus

Photo by Daniel K Cheung on Unsplash

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here comes the mighty, strapping, hardy Thesaurus!
Listen to it bellowing, clamoring, roaring in dissonant chorus,
Along with fellow friends: Dictionarasurus and Rhymesaurus
Lifting up, raising up, their ringing, pealing, thundering voices in sonorous,
Blabbering, jabbering chants that thrill, amaze, and restore us,
Renewing, reinstating, replacing words with tones both dense and porous.

 

 

 

Written for dVerse.

 

Onward

Photo by Fiona Murray on Unsplash

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Standing on a ribbon of time
Looking towards an uncharted climb
Winding through curious climes
Perhaps without reason or rhyme
Meandering over trails of grime
Or grassy plains in their prime
Go onward then, do not stand still
For the discovery’s a marvelous thrill

 

Written for dVerse

 

 

Preparation

Photo by Garreth Paul on Unsplash

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sep. 22, P. comes home ~ be ready

She says she’s never seen the fall
since she entered my noble hall
and became my wondrous queen.
Leaves for her are always green
they do not yellow, nor blaze in red,
so I’ll bring autumn to her instead.
I’ll robe the halls in amber wheat
spread the harvest beneath her feet;
we’ll dance across the ballroom floor
to harvest songs from days of yore.
And from among the deathly shades
I’ll recruit those with edible trades.
Cooks and chefs will prepare a feast,
with a thousand dishes at least!
Warming soups, fragrant tarts, gleaming pears,
roast turkey, and venison to spare,
that pumpkin spice these mortals crave
in endless pies and cakes and bread. She’ll surely rave!

(No pomegranates, she hates the sight,
and won’t take a single bite.)

 

***

Written for dVerse, where the prompt is to be inspired by the Persephone and Hades myth.

 

 

Curiosity

Photo by diego caro on Unsplash

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Curiosity killed the inquisitive cat
As it nosed around for facts
Seeking for what it lacked
Padding after secrets and rats
Alas, our most anxious cat perished
So they brought out the sheriff
Who considered all the merits
Joining the clues in marriage
And when all the why’s were established
The story was brushed and polished
The case was widely published
Until the matter was public knowledge
Fate then took a curious track
Although the impertinent cat had passed
Once there were no more questions to be asked
Satisfaction brought it back

 

Written for dVerse.

 

 

Commence

Photo by Penguinuhh on Unsplash

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Begin all the way at the end
with the reaping of wheat,
in the amber field by the river’s bend.
The stalks cut down arrive at death,
for the harvest is here,
when sheaves take their last breath,
gathering in each bountiful ear.
And should some stray kernels escape,
drifting down from the breeze
across the soft earth they drape.
Then at last it’s finally these
that bring us to the start,
to the seed that runs rife
with creation at it’s heart,
the commencement of life.

 

This poem is inspired by the following quote from Hemingway: 

 

 It is very hard to write this way, beginning things backward…
–The Torrents of Spring (1926) 

 

Written for dVerse.

 

Empower

Photo by Josipa Juras on Unsplash

Within the castle’s rough hewn towers,
we fled to escape the ogre’s glower,
raising the drawbridge against its power;
yet it stands there ready to devour.
So through the murky twilight we scour
the lanes and hills and fields of flowers.
Growing more fearful by the hour,
searching for one who will not cower.
But who can rescue us from this bower?
Just when things are most dark and dour,
bright hope suddenly upon us showers.
In the distance, on a horse white like flour,
riding tantivy, the knight is racing to empower;
to free us; to make the night sweet, instead of sour.
The ogre bellows, but the knight allows her
blade to fall upon the loathsome prowler
and thus she swiftly overpowers
the fiend and we are free! And now her
deeds are widely known throughout our
castle’s rough hewn towers.

 

Written for dVerse.

 

Spa Day

Photo by Camille Brodard on Unsplash

 

How doth the enormous grizzly bear
Improve his shining claws,
And files them smartly with great care
To pamper those mighty paws!

How cheerfully he seems to grin,
While he neatly combs his fur,
And welcomes the hairdresser in,
Along with the masseur.

How relaxing is the grizzly’s spa!
Where he maintains his intimidating style
While the hairdresser shrinks in awe
And the masseur quivers all the while.  

 

This is a parody of Lewis Carroll's The Crocodile, which is a parody of Isaac Watts' How Doth the Little Busy Bee.

Shared with dVerse Open Link Night #291.

Something Ephemeral

Photo by Marina Shatskih on Unsplash

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Something ephemeral bides
long by the baby’s side
for today he’s small,
tomorrow, grown so tall
and still in each look and mien
he’s all the sizes in-between.
Today rings with babbling coos
tomorrow, with words of every hue
and in the echo of each dulcet sound
baby giggles still abound.
Today he holds my finger
tomorrow, he will not linger.
While for now I am his world,
tomorrow, with sails unfurled,
he’ll chase dreams across the sky.
While I watch with wondering sigh;
see the man inside the growing child,
and in the man, all his yesteryears compiled.

 

Always Greener

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash

 

On the other side of me and now
verdant pastures sweep up to the sky
greener than the new spring boughs.
I count each grass blade with a sigh,
for the hills over yonder I am sure,
are lusher than these I sojourn by;
and they gleam emerald with allure.
If I had choice, to them I’d swiftly fly!
And yet something whispers, Stay
the grasses there have much to belie
and the meadows near are not so gray.
And when I cast my eyes about I see
green aplenty on all sides of me. 

Ready

 

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

                                                                This just in from tomorrow
                                                                where the future is arriving
                                                                is it full of joy or sorrow?
                                                                if you want to know more
                                                                then here’s the scoop
                                                                tomorrow sets sail from the shore
                                                                that you’ve heard is called today
                                                                so make the story unfold
                                                                with each step and sway
                                                                live to make them matter
                                                                the menial moments unsung
                                                                or those of clamor and clatter
                                                                for every current event
                                                                heralds the coming dawn
                                                                ready for whatever is sent.

 

Symbols of the Dogwood

Photo by SilverGardenia

Out in the garden at Eastertide
flowers point to Christ and how He died
so look upon the dogwood tree
with its living symbols three,
for within the flower’s center lays
the thorny crown of former days.
and whose petals bloom crosswise
raising the cross to the azure skies.
And each petal bears a reddened pleat
where our Savior’s loving hands and feet
were pierced by unrelenting nails
yet over all these He eternally prevails!
So every blossom tells the story
of Christ who died and rose in glory
thus when the dogwood tree is nigh
it points us to our Lord on High.

 

Dogwoods are some of my favorite flowers! The Legend of the Dogwood says that the dogwood was the tree used to make the cross that Christ was crucified on and that afterwards, Christ gave it flowers that resembled the cross, the crown of thorns, and the marks in his hands and feet. Dogwoods are native to the Eastern United States and don't grow in the Holy Land, so it's very easy to disprove this legend. But the symbolism is still beautiful.

The Fairy's Shopping List

Photo by Alfred Schrock on Unsplash

Spider silk and milkweed fluff -
Is twice as much of me enough,
to weave a fairy gown?

Next I’ll need an acorn cap,
a bit of grass to make a strap;
won’t it be a handsome hat?

Around my neck some lilac blooms
rich with sweet ethereal perfume.
Are there grander gems than these?

Then when all my shopping’s done
I’ll dance beneath the morning sun
The finest fairy you ever saw!

How to Open a Door

Photo by Nick Page on Unsplash

 

It’s really such a chore.
First: Put on your shoes.
No wait, back up and choose
socks thick and woolly
or cotton thin. Choose fully
aware that at the end is the door.
So perhaps your long fuzzy socks,
or those colored like phlox,
or socks with bold polka-dots?
Carefully arrange your thoughts
ere your feet hit the floor.
Second: Examine the shoes,
for again you must choose,
before you can grasp the handle.
Glass slippers or boots or sandals,
it all depends on what you intend
to find on the other side of the door.

Burnt Cross Buns

 

Sitting in the oven are the hot cross buns
Where the heat is rising and it’s hotter than the sun
Watch them blacken, watch the growing smoke
Alas, the fire alarm is blaring and it’s no joke

Call your daughters and your sons
Come and weep for the hot cross buns
After such a tragedy, what can you do?
Start all over, make another batch or two.

 

 

Sadly, this poem is based on a true story. And if you're looking at the picture thinking, "Those don't look too bad," those are the hot cross buns that survived. Pictures weren't taken until after the charred ones had been donated to the trash can. Luckily, the redemption batch was perfect.

 

 

Crochet Defined

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Crochet
Noun
1. Buffet of choices: so many hooks; so much yarn.
2. Voices speaking from the thread. Memories caught everywhere you look.
    Seeking tales from the bedspread, the mittens, the tangled knots.
Verb
1. Twist and pull, pull and twist, again and again, and again.
    Wool enrolls in sweaters. Cottons enlists in motifs with poise.
    Each project better than the last, becoming chief of all.
Example: Play the day away, sit back, crochet.