What flickers first—
is it sight or thought?
What holds the body’s ache
and also the ache of loss?
What builds the self, brick by brick,
only to watch it dissolve?
And what remains,
but the stillness in which
all things arise and fall?
Written in response to De Jackson’s prompt over at dVerse Poet’s Pub: Quadrille #212 – “What the What?” The challenge this week is to write a poem of exactly 44 words, including some form of the word “what.”
I’ve heard it said many times,
that memories turn unseen by all but you.
But if untroubled spirits of yesterday exist,
they dress in muted shades
our imaginations reach in that brief moment
between ponder and passage.
If I showed you cold waves crashing,
maybe then you could understand
that the oceans of winter sleep
only in forgotten dreams.
Though this poem wasn’t written in response to dVerse Open Link Night #365, I think it aligns well with the theme. Our host, Sanaa, offered a mini prompt from Pablo Neruda’s wonderful poem The Wide Ocean:
“Ocean, if you were to give, a measure, a ferment, a fruit of your gifts and destructions…”
The horizon unfurls a silvery veil,
a delicate, mocking promise of tomorrow.
In the quiet tremor of twilight,
ghosts linger, whispering shadows, sinew
threading through the fringe fabric of society.
The weight of absence hangs heavy,
a shroud over the fragile bones of memory.
Soon the stars, cold and indifferent,
will glint like sidewalk shards of broken glass,
scattered remnants piercing the heavens.
The city murmurs a hollow dirge,
a requiem for the lost, the faint silhouettes
against the dying light of day.
dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night #364
Optional Prompt: Sidewalk
You never really liked the underground trains,
thick air humming with the tracks,
as people morph into shadows, shapes,
each lost in their chosen universe,
caught in the trance of a digital dance.
Do they see the subtle ballet of life?
A yawn rippling, laughter piercing
through the steady drone of wheels on steel?
A child clutches his mother’s hand,
eyes wide with wonder,
attention rapt by the novelty we take for granted.
The mundane miracle of the daily commute.
Briefly united in this moving capsule,
we hurtle together through time and space,
only to scatter in the cardinal directions
of our stories
when the train stops. I see a reflection in the glass,
my own face superimposed
on the dark tunnel walls.
You should smile more often.
This poem was written in response to the dVerse Poetics prompt, “Travelling by Train,” posted on June 18, 2024. In contrast to the MTA subway trains, which are on time 84% of the time according to ABC7 NY News, I’m predictably late for this prompt. But here we are.
Whispers thread through moonlight gaze,
wisdom woven deep in dusk’s tapestry.
As pages flutter like moth’s feathery wings,
ancient dreams entwine unspoken truths,
and secrets stitched in shadow
keep time suspended in our sight.
A thousand tomorrows are written
in the lost language of yesterday.
Written in response to Lillian’s prompt at dVerse Poets Pub, where she asked us to choose an image from Catrin Welz-Stein and let it inspire our poetry. Catrin is a graphic designer from Germany who creates unique mixed media artwork. To see more of her work, visit Catrin Welz-Stein’s website.
There was a time when winning mattered,
pride aglow in victory’s radiant light.
A young mind open to the world,
I filled it with dreams, ambitions.
Lately, with age, I’ve less concern
for rivalries, save one—
the shadow of myself from yesteryear.
To better who we’ve been
bears greater weight
than youthful dreams of transient glory.
Today, Melissa is hosting at dVerse, inviting us to craft a poem inspired by a line from selected dVerse poets. The fourth line of this poem, “I filled it with dreams, ambitions,” is borrowed from “Hidden in my Box” by Björn Rudberg.
Gazing beyond today’s limits,
Into endless possibilities’ embrace,
The future unfolds—a vibrant tapestry,
Stretched across the canvas of foresight.
With deliberate strokes, we labor,
Cultivating seeds of compassion,
Shaping a world where justice breathes,
And freedom expands, vast and unrestrained.
Perched on the precipice of evolution,
We shake loose the shadows of worn paths,
And stretch ever sunward,
Bound only by the horizon’s call.
Written in response to Melissa’s wonderful prompt over at dVerse: “For today’s poetic prompt: choose one of René Magritte’s artworks featured in this post, or you may choose an artwork found in one of the articles I’ve included links for. Please be sure to let us know which work you’ve chosen. Write a poem about what you see, and what it hides. Look beyond the obvious. What layers of meaning do you see? How does the image resonate with underlying parts of your story? Show us that.”
Roused from slumber by echoes afar,
Heavy eyes traverse night’s cold embrace.
Beneath a blanket of long-dead stars,
Drifting along tides’ gentle grace.
A craft embarks upon Neptune’s realm,
Ever onward it sails,
Through dreams’ vast expanse,
In moonlight’s soft dance,
Steadfast, sleep prevails.
Written in response to Punam’s prompt over at dVerse Poet’s Pub: Quadrille #196 – Let’s have a Slumber Party! “The challenge tonight is to write a quadrille of exactly forty-four words including the word “Slumber” or any variation of it….”
The Truth About Tigers 