For today’s Meeting the Bar at the dVerse Poets Pub, we are writing to the First Person Narrative, using “I am” as part of our poem. The voice, and the specific point of view is you, the poet.
I am somebody
else not the one
I used to be, the one
everyone remembers.
Even my shadow
is a
stranger’s silhouette —
the shadow
of what once was.
Sometimes, even I am fooled
but when I can glance quickly enough
(before it knows I’ve seen it)
it is only obvious that
it
should be following
somebody else.
It’s Quadrille Monday over at the dVerse Poets Pub! Today our prompt is the word, glow.
∞
That exquisite glow
in your velvet-brown eyes —
even the flecks of amber sparkle
like topaz bathed in moonlight.
I try to imagine
what thoughts may evoke
such magic,
but it is quite
impossible
considering
it has nothing
in the world
to do with me.
It’s Quatrain Monday over at the dVerse Poets Pub. The prompt is the word “set.”
ℵ
Ink hadn’t even set
on the weddin’ invites
b’fore Jeff was out hookin’ his-self up
with anything female what had a pulse.
Folks felt sorry for “Sweet Joni” gettin’
knocked-up but
what hardly nobody knew
was that kid wasn’t even Jeff’s.
Nope.
Sure wasn’t.
Today at the dVerse Poets Pub, we are to write a poem about anticipation, waiting, or hoping.
Delicate snowflakes swirl
and sparkle in mid-day sun,
dusting her feathers a
diaphanous silver glaze.
among the frozen foliage
her mate finds her
and gently shields her with a
massive wing
puzzled as the snow
where she lie turns pink, then red
he huddles closer
and waits. He waits for
a heartbeat, a flinch
a breath, a sound —
any sign of life.
Still, he stays
and he waits with
a protective wing
over her lifeless body.
Never leaving
as the sun sets
and the snow keeps falling.
Today at the dVerse Poets, we have Art as Inspiration, and introducing Beverly Dyer.
I may as well have tried
to tame a Mustang stallion
or steal a mirage
thinking my charms were enough
to capture your heart and
you would love me back.
“Horse Galloping” Beverly Dyer
