Murmurs: Quadrille

Murmur me, the stars and moon,

glissando whispers, humming croons–

purring from a kitten’s throat,

murmurs, old men’s anecdotes–

murmuration, birds in flight,

sighted in the morning light,

murmur me, an old oak tree

murmur me, what lovers sing–

murmuring life in everything.

 

This is for Quadrille Monday at dVerse. De Jackson has asked us to use the word murmur.

Yesterday morning while I was drinking coffee and writing my Monday post, I suddenly heard so many birds. They just kept coming and swooping around. I thought murmuration. These photos are not very good, since I took them quickly with my phone through the kitchen door, but it was magical.

 

 

 

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Nature’s Songs: Haibun Quadrille

This is for the dVerse Monday Quadrille. Victoria has asked us to use the word poem, or some form of the word in a poem of 44 words. Yesterday I heard a robin; today it snowed.

 

Snowy winter mornings are quiet dreamscape poems written on grey and white velvet. But the sun laughs out loud in June–warm, golden verses–and birds sing harmony from yellow-green branches.

 

Trees dusted with snow

hawk hovers, but robin sings

spring will come again

 

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Let Sleeping Cats Lie: Haibun Quadrille

This is a Haibun of 44 words for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, using synonyms for play and guess, and for dVerse’s Quadrille Monday, where De Jackson asked us to use the word bounce.

 

It’s been a stressful couple weeks. Thoughts bounce about in my brain, as I try to sleep. My cat is nestled beside me, and his soft snores echo in my dreams. Time and space now speculative.

 

ideas frolic

gamboling animals romp

visions of wonder

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Franz Marc [Public domain ], via Wikimedia Commons

New Year’s Doorways: Haibun Quadrille

This 44-word Haibun is for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday Poetry Challenge, where the challenge was to use synonyms for ambition and change, and it is also a quadrille for dVerse, where Grace asked us to use the word leap.

 

In the past, I leaped into the new year with aspirations. Now I glide on the slipstream of ghosts. Past, future merge in star songs. I wonder if doorways are opening or closing?

 

Pirouetting stars–

old year leaps into the new

embraced by moonlight  

 

 

Embed from Getty Images

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Visitor: Quadrille

 

Under the midnight moon

creatures shuffle, scurry,

slither in a flurry

from the shadowed form.

A sharp cry, silence punched

by dead leaves crunched

under booted foot

stepping through the old back door

over creaking floor,

the Visitor walks in–

smiles his malignant grin.

 

 

I used two dVerse prompts.  De Jackson (aka WhimsyGizmo) asked us to write a quadrille using the word “crunch.” Lillian asked us to write a poem using a form of the word, “visit.” Sorry, this wasn’t exactly a holiday-themed poem.  I should probably stop reading the news.

 

 

 

 

The Immigrants: Quadrille

They journeyed–

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

rocked them

sometimes gently, sometimes furiously,

rocked them into the unknown

 

This is a quadrille for dVerse. The prompt was “rock.”

 

 

 

 

 

Silvered Dust of Time and Space: Quadrille and Yeats Challenge, Day 7

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,

they fly,

ensorcelling with their melodies.

Kicking and dancing in twinkling splendor,

they blaze, then die.

Yet their light,

not erased

shimmers faintly in the night,

silvered dust of time and space.

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Józef Marian Chełmoński [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

 

 

The Dancers: Quadrille

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

content–

no matter that long ago, they’d died,

love is here, the house still sighed

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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.

 

Hope: Quadrille

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?

 

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This quadrille is for dVerse. The prompt was any form of the word, “hope.”

 

From the Remains of the Day

From the remains of the day

the Harvest Moon rises resplendent

Diana, the light-bearer, lingers,

glowing

reapers gather grains

sustaining bodies and souls

embracing,

creating life–

Diana hums,

the tune echoes in a mother’s lullaby

(unaware of wars and strife)

babies sleep in peace

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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.