I know the science of sun and rain
that wakes the world to spring–
brings a languorous glow,
that rings the day
and stays,
till the moon
hums it away.
But I believe in magic–
overnight blooms
and birds winging, singing
through morning dew.
A quadrille for dVerse, where Linda has asked us to use the word “magic.”
(A quadrille, besides being a dance, is a dVerse form. It’s a poem of 44 words—any type.)
Photo of the Earth taken from Apollo 8, called Earthrise (1968).
I see the morning moon
dream-full of spring songs—
of sap, worms, crows
(a murder gathers, cawing)
Now she hums fiercely through the clouds,
stirring my senses—
my mother’s alive, the call a mistake,
but my tire’s flat
on an earth that tilts, revolving.
This a quadrille for dVerse. De has asked us to use some form of the word “stir.” Yesterday, my sister got a call that my mom was “unresponsive.” It turns out the facility called the wrong person, and my mother was fine. However, I pulled out of my driveway and discovered my tire was flat. Fortunately, that didn’t happen when we were driving on the expressway.
Vincent Van Gogh, Starry Night
The stars fill the sky
even when we can’t see them
they shine and sing—
a glowing, tumbling wing
of feathered sounds that swing
across their incandescent surfaces–
this sound, a lover’s soft sigh,
a parent’s croon,
a celestial lullaby
of wonder and why.
This is for dVerse,where De asked us to use the word fill in a quadrille, a poem of exactly 44 words. My first lines came from Jane wondering a few days ago what it would be like to see the stars during the day. I suspect Vincent could hear their songs.
Wild the owl that hoots at night,
wild the fawn that gambols from my sight,
wild the wind that blows from other lands,
and wild the waves that lap the sand,
wild the lightning in the sky—
and wild the thunder echoes. . . asking why?
A rhyming quadrille for dVerse, where Kim has asked us to use the word, “wild.”
The roaring wind
blows my love
away from me he goes
far off on the sea
to war, to adventure,
to find a better life
he leaves family,
his love, his wife,
a centuries-old tale.
Will he return? When?
The wind only roars again.
I felt the need for a bit of poetry before I start work today, so this late response to Monday’s dVerse prompt. De asked us to use the word roar in a quadrille—a poem of exactly 44 words. We’re expecting roaring winds here today, but for some reason I thought of the move Atlantics, which we saw on Netflix not too long ago (mentioned in one of my Musings.) It was made and set in Senegal, and it won a prize at Cannes.
Moonglow and star shimmer
light the travelers on their way.
Candlelight in windows flicker
a signal, a sign—
here we hold darkness at bay
for minutes, hours, days
as lovers embrace and sway,
finding freedom–a miracle
some might say
light comes to stay.
I’m so totally procrastinating today, so why not write another poem? Here’s a quadrille for dVerse,where Lillian is hosting. She asks us to use the word glow.
North wind blows
gusting. Bustling
come the spirits
past and future here
carrying scents of cinnamon,
and good cheer, meeting, greeting
dreams, desires—
they swirl, cross-sweeping
without hurry, but you scurry
because the world seems blurry
till you wake–settled–somehow—
allow the now.
A bit of fun for dVerse, where De has asked us to write a quadrille using the word spirit.
Source: The Youth’s Book on Natural Theology, 1840
First a rumble
grumbling in the night,
then a crack, the light
jagged and brightly-white
zig-zagging, where the kite
with hemp strands and key
conducts electricity–
a sight to see,
but from afar—
(check the jar)
this experiment of wonder,
science, lighting, and thunder.
A quadrille (a poem of 44 words) for dVerse where De asked us to use the word “crack.” If you don’t know anything about Benjamin Franklin’s experiment, here are the details from the Franklin Institute—it includes a passage from his article in the Pennsylvania Gazette. He actually electrified the hemp from the charged air, not directly from the lightning, but poetic license. 😉
Timekeepers,
sun and moon
rise and set
and we forget
that we move, too,
revolving on our small blue dot
sailing through each day, not
knowing where we’ll dock
or when time’s clock
will stop its ticking-tock–
but then light bends,
it never ends.
This is for yesterday’s dVerse prompt, where Kim asked us to write a quadrille (a poem of 44 words) using the word keep.
William Heritage Winery
Workday chores set down,
the sun sinks low, birds take wing,
stars soon appear to glimmer and sing
songs drifting over gleaming river
and sleepy town
to me and you, the sound
of nature, moon hums a chorus–
and so, night passes before us.
I’m hosting dVerse today. We’re writing quadrilles, using the word, “set.” Come join us!
