Coping

Green With Blue

fairy-drops-blue-green-astrid-ewing
Droplets of morning dew
Reflect
Blade of grass
Shade of sky
A spherical cell
Imprisoning earth and heaven
As one
AsKeW
A sane iNSaNitY
Fantasy and reality
Dawn’s moist green
Rhapsody in blue

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Karin has us writing of the unease of green in Poetics today at dVerse. Mine concerns relality’s daily battle with fantasy.

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change, Coping, Loss, Love, Regret

HOW FAR

In the hills of Sierra de los Padres
A bus slid off – a muddy roadway
And rolled and rolled without a skid
And left a kid – alone – on Sunday

She drove from church with laughing niños
And dropped them off – uno por uno
While el hijo stayed home and waited with papá
In the llora of rain on the edge of Negro

Madre de mi amor

I now live north with frozen rain
Draw my bow – slow – from Domingo’s pain
When I was young – and roads – húmedo
Madre de mi amor

How far must I go

For dVerse Poets Pub Open Mic Night

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Regret

Regret

By Fronz von Stuck

… the sun rolls up
then down out of sight
only to make rounds again

waves rise and fall
rise and fall
across curves on Neptune’s face

to the top
to the top of the hill
rolls the immense boulder

pushed
and pushed
rolled
and cursed
eternal effort caged in visual echo

to the bottom
to the bottom of the hill
rolls back
strength’s sweat in vain

flying thunder taunts and laughs

to the sky
back to the sea
to the summit
back to the valley

again, again, again
up and down
rise and fall
push and cry

again, again, again, again, again
never ends
never
never ends

a bleeding tongue that never mends

toil and fail
toil and fail
forever and forever cries the wail of Sisyphus
along my deep rutted fate

fruit of betrayal

the alarm cries dawn
my boulder waits

the sun rolls up …

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Loss

Yet Still

yet still

Sweet perfume stains and pains

      memories dancing across our bedroom

 

Pink sunrise sighs and cries

      when your cool pillow whispers secrets blue

 

Black coffee steams and dreams

      when your brown eyes orbit around my gloom

 

 

Dead leaves crunch when

      I walk

            placing flowers by your grave

 

I hear tenors wail

      but know

            you’re still singing to be brave

 

 

Sweet perfume stains and pains

      memories dancing across my bedroom

 

I can’t see you

      yet still

 

I can’t hear you

      yet still

 

I will always feel you

      until

            my pillow whispers something blue

 

 

Yet still …

 

Unitl …

 

 

 

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lil dark but fun

Franken-Poem

By Sarah Dolby


This poet’s eyes
shall see in dark
blackest shadows
to prowl in parks

This writer’s nose
can smell fresh death
starving ravens
vie for sparse flesh

Her bloodless heart
beats smooth as stone
lips cannot speak
but only moan

A blackened quill
ink from the moon
she weaves a yarn
from Edgar’s loom

Stark raving mad
she screams at night
ranting tantrums
for lightning strikes

She named her art
a Franken-poem
like Mary Shelley
in neon chrome

Creating life
from breathless words
IT’S ALIVE
IT’S MOVING
A newborn verse

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