6.30.2012

click, snap, release clasp
the latch opened and i sprung loose;
bursting forward with the anticipation
of a future fresh and promising and
all the hope that nearly a lifetime
of waiting had pent up. fermented in
the waiting, powered with effervescent
energy, the wind rushing by, the bright
sky above held no fear. dreams realize.

pushing buttons at dVerse, and finding poetry!

6.29.2012

an empty vessel, poured out
empty without your love here
vessel, your love could fill
poured love could comfort me
out here, fill me again

a real challenge in form from dVerse, a square poem read the same vertically as horizontally

An
Empty
Vessel,
Poured
Out
Empty
Without
Your
Love
here
Vessel,
Your
Love
could
Fill
Poured
Love,
Could
Comfort
Me
out
Here,
Fill
Me
again

6.25.2012

on beams worn smooth by summer bare feet; 
i inhale the warm sun-kissed scent of your skin.
eyes closed; smile pulled wide, the refreshing
call of the lake's fingers lapping at the dock pilings,
can't draw me away from this moment with you.


(Lake Gaston, NC)
musical inspiration - Summer Skin by: Death Cab for Cuties

6.23.2012

Clank-Clang-Rill sets the rhythm as father and son grunt and breath sweat and grease  beneath the dusty beams of this third  generation garage. Here metric wrenches, oil viscosity, and patience in the practice were passed on; family heirlooms never undervalued.

6.22.2012

they rolled the windows down and  allowed the late afternoon to breathe over them; bringing them closer to  each other, the moon hung from a string,  and the desires of good men everywhere. Inspired by Amos Lee's Windows Are Rolled Down 

6.21.2012

nestled against tufted velvet benches, we
rock to the rhythm of the engine's pull on 
our car as it glides along the tracks, the 
sun tracing golden fingertips across
glowing mahogany and polished brass
the landscape blurs past, framed in coal black
smoke and the wail of the steam whistle


setting the scene at dVerse




6.20.2012

wavering lines of heat interrupt
the otherwise flat horizon of
the dusty red dessert floor and
as far as the eye can see, she is
alone, parched and brittle under
the unrelenting cloudless sky

6.19.2012

range of vision closes, losing sight
expiring oxygen, loss of breath
light-headed dizziness
drowning
in love


At dVerse, we're reading Shakespeare's Sonnet 18 & comparing loves to a summer day...or drowning

6.18.2012

they considered her much like a rubber band
able to bend, stretch, and flex with little effort
as the situation demanded, holding things together
when others were prone to disarray, that is
until the day she snapped!

6.16.2012

over at dVerse, we're talking of exile, in literature and life.
Since death is an exile from those we love, 
here's a dedication to the life of one well loved.

the rising sun brought light, stole life
too early for you, too soon from us
exiled from this world you left
shadows across our hearts, and
no matter how hard she tries
the sun, can never fill your void

6.15.2012

Beneath dusky starlit summer skies
Hands grasp, one another
Wheeling, whirling, swinging and singing
To the strum of a banjo and its crooner
In the distance mason jars clink
This is how the South marries off her young

Inspired by OARs Heaven

6.14.2012

girls cast low whispers
wishing for men who would
fit their curves, and their hearts

whispers rise to a song of
desire and hope, and a need for
strong arms to hold future nests

for sometimes even the lack
of rain is enough to cast lightening
across a dry and charged land

Inspired by dVerse's Triverson challenge & Snow Patrol's New York

her voice carried crystal clear
haunting the empty rooms long after
she was gone and the only sound
lingering on was the cascade of ivory
and ebony, and acoustic strings, ghosts
moving about in dusky shadows of
the now blue black rooms bathed in
moonlight, and the sound of her voice

Inspired by Norah Jones' December 

6.13.2012

lucky

they say there's a pot of gold at the end
of every shimmering rainbow, and I'm
inclined to believe there's truth in that tale
since I met my one true love, on St. Pat's

6.12.2012

Inspired by today's dVerse open mic featuring Emily Dickinson,
I've used her first line, and a/b/c/b quatrain format

The day came slow -- till Five o'clock --
When they let me out the door
By then I'd had enough of work
And dashed -- for want of more

I escaped outside -- to the garden's cover
And fragrant blooms amid the shade
Where far away from the day's toils
I decided to linger and stay

"go fish"

"go fish," once reserved for a
playful game of cards now
describes the struggle of this
unemployed man down on his luck
and lacking the pairing of skills now needed
to win in this game of life
and so he doesn't


"go fish," no longer the simple
call in a childish game of cards
it is now his heart's cry
every Friday afternoon
when the quitting bell rings
and so he does


"go fish," pudgy fingers claw
at the stack of cards stacked at
the center of the table and as
he watches his boys go at their game
his heart bursts with thanks to God
and so he did

6.10.2012

a wave of laughter rolled over
us, unabashed and a little too
indifferent
and from that moment on 
it was all i wanted to be
when i grow up

6.06.2012

dance

teach me to dance
the way you dance
with feet shuffling
lips soft, broad hands
tender heart and steps,
rocking me in your rhythm,
teach me to dance

lost

lost in the deep shadows his hat
carved across his face, like a
far off land she had meant to
run away to
and live on papaya and coconut
and fresh water that gushed
from where the hot sand met
the deep shadows

6.05.2012

"what do you do?"
she asked him
"when the music keeps playing but you've
forgotten all the steps and you
don't remember anyone's name?"
and his silence
made her worry
all the more

heritage

sometimes this air is so thick
saturated in heritage
decades of legacies
that i am compelled to exhale
the very depths of my lungs
that i might leave an inheritance
for future generations

6.02.2012

occupation! He spit the word out like it was a curse, grown bitter from the grind of his labor.

6.01.2012

Crash!
Glass
shattered.
Shards of notes
brought a crescendo, 
loosing these emotions.


This poem for dVerse, was to attempt to write a poem following form, yet with the feeling of free verse. 
My offering is a Fibonacci poem, founded by Gregory K. Pincus.
1 syllable for the first line
1 syllable for the second line
2 syllables for the third line
3 syllables for the fourth line
5 syllables for the sixth line