Caspar David Friedrich, “Owl on a Tree,” [Public domain] Wikipedia Commons
and then she soars
silently, in pursuit
of prey, explores
the land–still unspoiled—
glides with serrated wings
over territory still unsoiled
by the sighs and zings
of manmade things
seeking oil or gold.
only silent wings in flight.
This is for dVerse where Lillian has asked us to write a quadrille using some form of the word “spoil.” She mentions movies, so I’ll say—and this is not a spoiler—that there is a prospector and an owl in one of the “chapters” in the movie The Ballad of Buster Scruggs.
Under winking stars
deer walk through the silent streets,
an owl hoots as she wings by
the raccoons having a party,
with fireflies pulsing their disco lights.
The moon is a smile in the sky,
she hums a lullaby
for families inside—now sleep.
Ida Waugh, 1881, [Public Domain in U.S], Wikipedia
This is a quadrille for dVerse. De Jackson (aka Whimsy Gizmo) has asked us to use some form of the word wink. I don’t think we’re going to see stars or moon tonight in NJ, but I hope we can go to sleep with some good news.
Once upon a glimmer
of desire and hope,
opened a book
and she was lost
in the pages,
in the story,
she was not alone
and there were other
worlds, and truth–
it was out there–
but also, within her.
Albert Anker, “Cécile Anker, 1886” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
Lillian has asked us to write a poem beginning with “Once upon a ____, ” using any word except for the word “time.”
and the moon rises
owl and deer greet her
knowing she guides them
through the shadowed night
with her glimmered, silvered light.
And in the early morning
I see her lowering in the sky—
then she softly sighs goodbye.
A quadrille for dVerse. Kim asked us to use the word early.
I’m up early in the morning, and I love it when I see the moon then.
Now–a church in Philadelphia,
a sanctuary harboring
as medieval churches
hate, fear, pogroms,
the shtetl, the Pale—
to faraway ports–
chasing the American dream
through the Depression
always seeking a safe harbor–beyond
Lillian at dVerse has asked us to write a quadrille using the word harbor.
He is quick,
(slight scruffy boy)
but she is quicker,
grabbing his arm
his hand clutches an apple
from her market stand.
Flutters in her womb–
(He could be my son.)
She gives him bread,
more apples . . .
lets him go.
Louise Moillon, “Market Scene with a Pick-pocket,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
A quadrille for dVerse, where de Jackson (aka WhimsyGizmo) has asked us to use the word “quick.”
There is a silver spring
where golden fishes dwell
between the banks of sweet brown earth.
There, wondrous scarlet finches sing
in warbling notes, as if you to tell
(with constant mirth)
“Both skies and horses can be blue.”
You decide, dream-world, or true?
Franz Marc, “Large Blue Horses,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
A quadrille for dVerse. Kim asked us to use the word, “earth.”
In my mind, a perfect world would include blue horses.
I put my wishes in a box of sparkling air
send them off so you can share–
to fly through star-filled skies,
scatter, fall, like meteor showers
land, bloom as luminescent flowers
of hope and joy,
on worlds restored, not destroyed.
I just put up a post about my new books, so now for something completely different–a quadrille for dVerse. De Jackson, aka Whimsy Gizmo, has asked us to use the word “box.” This is my anti-darkness quadrille. 🙂
I dream of huge white blossoms flaming and shooting off petals into the sky, turning it dark with flowery ash. Wondrous and a bit terrifying, this puzzle of my mind.
Moon silvers the trees,
green leaves pale in midnight glow—
dreams waiting to bloom
Anonymous, Südländische Ideallandschaft bei Mondschein, [Public Domain] via Wikipedia Commons
A Haibun quadrille for dVerse. Mish has asked us to use the word “puzzle,” or some form of it, in a quadrille, a poem of 44 words.
Spring breeze bewitches,
fills you with an itch
to stretch and grow,
undulating in delight.
Fall breeze calls–
to fly with geese
in victory’s V,
through gloaming’s violet light.
This is for dVerse, now celebrating its seventh anniversary. Happy Anniversary! Grace has asked us to write a quadrille (a poem of 44 words) using the word itch.