I’ll cartoon all the things we do.
I’ll place me by your side.
I’ll make some funny jokes for you.
Together we will hide
Until you ride away from me
And freedom says we’re through.
Though speckled green with jealousy
My happy skies stay blue.
Linked to dVerse Meet the Bar with Expressionism hosted by Björn Rudberg.
The “I” in the poem is fictional. However, I kind of like to think this is how I would behave.
The brain feels crueler than the beating heart.
The gut is grosser resting further down.
Not being robots we are not that smart.
Our hearts don’t understand an AI frown.
The brain helps us when there’s a need to cope,
Anticipate how we should make some move.
Our hearts beat on beyond with rhythmic hope
Way past the need to optimize or prove.
The Moon and Mars are places we have sent
These little brains to tell us what they find.
The heart goes where no robot ever went.
We’re wise to kept our precious hearts behind.
Although we’d lose a game of chess to it,
We’ve sheltered hearts with love because of it.
Linked to dVerse Have a Heart! hosted by Lillian.
Linked to imaginary garden with real toads The Tuesday Platform.
Photo: “Heart Green Shelter” by the author.
My interest in the heart and brain connection comes from reading Rollin McCraty’s articles on the science of the heart.
Ghosts remain invisible.
Charming angels hide.
My muses tease confusingly
As inspirations slide.
My cat purrs on no matter what
Troubles me or not.
She’s real enough to hold and feed
And with her neither of us need
More than we now have got.
Linked to dVerse Quadrille #26 hosted by Kim from Writing in North Norfolk using the word “ghost”. I am also reading Allen and Linda Anderson’s “Angel Cats” which might help explain the second stanza. For more information on them see their site Angel Animals.
One day I hope to travel
But I will go nowhere.
I’m like a seed who sprouts and tries
To grow then shaded wilts and dies.
I’m rooted here not there.
If life’s a destination,
Then mine ends where I start.
And if I traveled from my home
And drifted somewhere all alone.
That, too, would break my heart.
Linked with dVerse OpenLinkNight #189 hosted by Grace.
Photo: “Seeds” by the author.
I don’t know why I wait for the Sun. It rises anyway and never says a word.
There must be something wrong with this. Why hope the morning’s newness breaks so I can know what’s really true? Why hope this beauty sets once it has finally risen?
WAVES DISTURB THE BEACH
SEAGULLS WATCH THE MORNING WAVES
LOOK! WE’RE DOING THIS
Written for dVerse Haibun Monday Ekphrasis and Haiga hosted by Björn Rudberg. Photo: “Birds and Sunrise” by the author.
Chaotic disenchanting hearts are casting storms on me.
Their spells tease lightning through my mind, still I won’t understand.
I’m drenched throughout with righteousness, but anger rains in vain.
I breathe, sit tall then wait, project to help this weather change.
Written for dVerse Meeting the Bar using a form of common meter called a “fourteener”. It has fourteen syllables in each line with seven of them accented. This example does not have end-rhyme although the last two lines ending in “rain” and “change” almost rhyme.
Some don’t believe in muses, but
At dawn mine spins my heart.
I don’t deserve such tenderness.
Perhaps one day we’ll part.
Then I will look upon the day,
Pretend she wasn’t real,
Pretend those fairy tales were false,
Pretend I do not feel.
Written for dVerse Quadrille #25 hosted by Björn.
One is coated fresh with fame.
One is dumpier with dough.
One has frosting smoothed with shame.
One trades sugar for its soul.
Some are tasty. Others not.
All are gone before too long.
Sipping cappuccino hot,
Foamy calmness, sounds of song.
Linked to dVerse Open Link Night #188.
Upon the beach we snaked wet sand
And made it long and round.
With apple placed before its face
It slithers on the ground.
Maybe there’s an Eve somewhere
And Adam by her side
Who watched us make this fancy snake
And made them smile with pride.
Written for dVerse Poetics hosted by Lillian with the challenge to create “a verb from a noun, adjective, or other word”. I turned “snake” into “snaked” at the beginning of the poem.
I took the photo of the sand sculpture, but I do not know who made the snake. One day later it was almost completely erased by the waves.
Before this moon will rise the sun must set. I wait alone upon the beach except for strangers waiting for it, too.
And then we see its fresh, faint light. It lifts above the ocean’s noisy waves. I watch until I’m sure it’s safely high enough to journey on alone.
SAND DUNES SHELTER LIFE
LIFE HOLDS DOWN THE DRIFTING SAND
TURTLES WATCH THE MOON
Written for dVerse Haibun Monday #29 hosted by Michael Grogan at Morpethroad with the theme “waiting”. Photo by the author.
Poetry, Short Prose and Walking 