sharing quarters with livestock
and worldly goods,
battered and buffeted
by wind and waves,
sailing through salt spray
under sun and shimmering stars,
the ship a speck in the vast sea-space
sometimes gently, sometimes furiously,
rocked them into the unknown
This is a quadrille for dVerse. The prompt was “rock.”
I’ve combined a quadrille for dVerse (using some form of the word kick), and a poem for Jane Dougherty’s A Month with Yeats Challenge, Day 7. Today’s quotation:
‘…stars, grown old
In dancing silver-sandalled on the sea,
Sing in their high and lonely melody.’
In the nighttime sea,
the stars sing–
ringing bells in the sky,
ensorcelling with their melodies.
Kicking and dancing in twinkling splendor,
they blaze, then die.
Yet their light,
shimmers faintly in the night,
silvered dust of time and space.
Józef Marian Chełmoński [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
The house was softly lit
the couple danced and flit
in waltzing rhythm, with delight
till late at night
(as in the past)
up the creaking stairs, they went
no matter that long ago, they’d died,
love is here, the house still sighed
This is a quadrille for dVerse. The prompt word was creak. I wrote this last night, but at 4 A.M. or so I was awakened by the house creaking from the wind storm we’re having now in anticipation of the rain that’s coming soon. It was creepy walking out in the dark this morning to get the newspaper. This creepy creaking might inspire a less gentle poem.
Is it hopeless to feel hope
in the light of dawn,
or when the moon hums
her gentle song?
In the ash-filled skies
do hopeful spirits fly,
or earth-bound are they buried
in sorrow unvariegated?
Tomorrow will hope soar–
that thing with feathers, evermore?
This quadrille is for dVerse. The prompt was any form of the word, “hope.”
From the remains of the day
the Harvest Moon rises resplendent
Diana, the light-bearer, lingers,
reapers gather grains
sustaining bodies and souls
the tune echoes in a mother’s lullaby
(unaware of wars and strife)
babies sleep in peace
George Hemming Mason, “The Harvest Moon,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
This is a quadrille for the dVerse Open Link Night. I’ve paid tribute (tried to) to both the Harvest Moon and Kazuo Ishiguro, who won this year’s Nobel Prize in literature, announced yesterday.
a Moroccan woman made soup like this,
in Mediterranean climes
stirred spices into her pot
(here mirroring Autumn leaves)
cinnamon red and saffron gold
yellow split peas and pumpkin,
symbols of success, simmering,
signaling the turning of seasons
tasting sweetly of tradition
Pumpkin-Yellow Split Pea Soup
This is a quadrille for dVerse. Mish asked us to use the word spice—or some form of it.
I make this soup every year for Rosh Hashanah—though we’re having it a bit late this year. It’s based on a recipe from Claudia Roden, a Moroccan soup. Mine is vegetarian and spicier. The golden color is supposed to symbolize a prosperous new year. The photo is from last year’s dinner.
Dream a little dream of me
as starlight blooms, high in the sky
the tears, I see,
are now wiped dry,
the night birds call from sycamore trees
sleep now, my love, sweet lullaby,
dream of me, body free,
but spirit hovering, still nearby
So, this actually fits two dVerse prompts. De Jackson, aka WhimsyGizmo, asked us to write a quadrille using the prompt dream.
Mish asked for a poem using a verse from a song. For some reason, the dream prompt made me think of this song. I’m wondering if I’ve heard it recently on a soundtrack.
Here’s Ella Fitzgerald singing “Dream a Little Dream of Me” (with Louis Armstrong).
I often use song lines as prompts in my Monday Morning Musings, and I know I’ll be writing more about dreams, but this is what I have for now.
A child’s tear,
a parent’s fear
not vampires and ghosts
the shadows in the night,
(not out of sight)
urging hate, urging war—
I fear the real,
the evil here
but look for love,
and beauty in the sun above
This is a quadrille for Dverse. The prompt word is fear.
The child peppered the sky with questions,
Why do my tears and the ocean taste salty?
Why does this plant taste like lemon,
but my cat smells like nutmeg?
A moon-breeze carried the scent of roses and wonder–
she understood then, everything is connected.
This is for dVerse. Kim has asked us to write a quadrille using some form of the word pepper in honor of the 50th Anniversary of the Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.
drifting through space,
just out of reach
part of the universe
unvarying in variation
do you hear?
the storm is coming
when it clears
hear the stars
Another storm quadrille, using Secret Keeper’s words: Above/Ancient/Part/Devil/Poor
I’m wondering if there’s storm coming today in D.C.