We rush through
a tinderbox world
with an armload of matches
as the wind picks up
Skies darken
lightning flashes
but no rain falls
Ignorance and Want
follow us
track us
trace our steps
drawing ever closer
Then high above
the vultures begin to circle
and all our bad victories
catch in our throats
These 55 words are woefully late for Joy’s FF55 at Verse Escape.
Light and shadows dance
through the ages
flashing, winking, spinning
And now the time begins
when shadows enfold the light
when we turn
to darker thoughts
with shorter days
and colder nights
when blossoms are spent
and fruits have ripened
The growing season is over
prepare your garden
prepare your soul
winter is on the way
This is for Joy, who has resurrected FF55 at Verse Escape. Go there and see what it’s all about. (Photo is by me.)
There is a time
closer to night than morning
when parties fall
into ruin
and the moon wearies
There is a time
when dreams are forgotten
and shades
lose their way
There is a time
when the clock
gives up its hands
and the hours pool
on the ground
running to regret
This is my time
This is for my friend Joy’s FF55 revival at Verse Escape, even though it’s not Friday, and if you’re counting, there aren’t 55 words.
Days are dark
waters are rising
yet the world is burning
as we are being led
144 characters at a time
into the mouth
of the fire
False prophets promise
haven as they
steal the ground
from beneath our feet and
deport
our dreams
Turns out
the small-fisted, would-be emperor
is both naked and blind.
This is for Hedgewitch’s memorial FF55 at Verse Escape.
Signing up with the Sargent
audition unrehearsed
first chair potential
the score, peppered with notes
unwarranted, unanswered, unsent
and I, virtuoso in
a minor key
play
plucking my heart
con dolore
transmuting
pain to melody
oxidation to harmony
and regret to
solo
This is for dVerse where we were asked to write a Quadrille (44 words, including title) including some form of the word, “pepper” in honor of the anniversary of Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.
Photo by Mary Bach: Merchant Seafarers’ War Memorial (back side), Cardiff
Where are we?
Blinded and betrayed by time
Endless skies press down
with the weight of water
Sanded and salted
preserved, we thought
Like a pearl of great price
I am lamented but unfound
scattered, until my ribs
no longer know each other
It’s grey today, and drizzling
inside my head
clouds gather behind my eyes
Outside the sun is burning
stars are turning
and the world hurtles
on
Looking out the window
I see only the fog
of my breath,
condensed
Then, without warning,
I storm
This is a Quadrille, or a poem of exactly 44 words for dVerse Poets’ Pub. And Mish has asked us to include some form of the word, “drizzle.”
