Trending Fashion...

Merril, at dverse poets, has asked us to write a poem about 'fashion', in some form or other. I have always been a wearer of denim jeans, even now in my 70's! Over the decades I've worn denim shorts, dresses, jeans, skirts and jackets, loving every minute of wearing denim. However, I have not been game to wear 'ripped/shredded'  jeans, as I think that they would look ridiculous on me! But hey, never say never!

 My contribution to today's prompt is a simple limerick:

There once was a girl named Jean

who liked to wear clothes that were clean;

yet rips at the knees,

to let in the breeze,

 exposed her bare skin to be seen.

Here's the link to dverse: Fashionable Poetry

A Storm in a Teacup...

Dark clouds gather

 brewing like strong coffee

 inviting participation.

Terrifying sparks of fire

intent on destruction, 

froth the landscape with fear.

Do not worry for this present storm

will pass through until it's spent,

leaving dark grounds in its' wake

of an expresso drained.

Punam at dverse poets is hosting our 44 word quadrille challenge today. We are to include some form of the word 'dark'.

Here's the link: Dark Quadrilles

 

Surviving Miss Daisy...

Daisy do, Daisy don't, 
hide away, will or won't;
child unseen, child of woe,
please be kind if you know.
Cuts on arms, signs of fear,
anxious thoughts very near.
Daddy loves her, loves her not,
hide away from all the rot;
uninvited, trails of lust,
 hidden girl in the dust.

Mish at dverse poets has given us a few options for todays poetry challenge. I have chosen one of Mish's photos, which is not to be a poem about flowers.  I'm not sure just where my poem came from today but perhaps it highlights a continuing travesty that affects many today.

Here's the link: Open Link Night options

 

Fine Dining...

 Mabel, sit at the table,

 a place has been set for you;

 dine with me, have some tea

 perhaps a plate of stew?

Rabbit pie you must try

a morsel, just a bit?

a fresh caught bird, now unheard,

has had its' final flit!

De at dverse poets has prompted us to write a 44 word quadrille, which must include some form of the word 'place'.

Here is the link: Poems of Place

 

 

A Personal Pilgrimage...

 At first glance I do not look like a pilgrim,
in fact, one would never have thought
that title could even possibly apply.
Perhaps my shoeless feet may give a clue,
the thickened dead skin on my soles,
or the scrapes and bruises on my knees.
Yet, these go unnoticed by most for

they are not physically obvious nor

are they paraded as badges of martyrdom.

Pilgrimage is personal, a death if you like,

to the old creature who has now found Him,

in the mundane, the horror, the sublime,

in the mud filled valleys and dizzying heights,

in the wars, the times of peace, the craziness.

Shoes will wear out over time, and time again,

whilst knees bent in adoration learn to carry

 the weight of knowing His Glory, His Majesty, 

His Holiness, His Love, and His Grace...

Lisa at dverse poets has given us three words: pilgrimage, wandering, walkabout. We are to choose one of these to write a poem that embodies the word we have chosen. I chose pilgrimage as I have been on a personal pilgrimage with Jesus Christ for over forty years now. Here's the link: Pilgrimage Wandering Walkabout

 

The Sound of Geese...

 She used to sit on the old porch and watch the wild geese fly overhead. It had become a seasonal ritual for Maude, ever since her late husband had passed away. She would observe the geese flying in perfect V formation, listening to them laugh amongst themselves, which always caused Maude to smile.

   One particular day Maude noticed that the wild geese were still on the ground, as if they were waiting for something. This was out of the ordinary, for the seasons were already well into their changing. Usually by now the geese had long since departed for distant shores.

Maude stood on the porch, listening to the sound of the gathering geese. Suddenly, something told the wild geese it was time to fly. They circled above Maude as she clutched her chest, knowing that it was her time to fly with them...

Kim at dverse poets has challenged us to write a 144 word prosery which must contain the line 'Something told the wild geese it was time to fly'. Here's the link: Wild Geese

Head Spaces...

The tick tock  aroused my mind
am I okay or not I wonder
my thoughts loud and harsh.

Let yesterday go

just forget tomorrow 

concentrate on the present.

I found a box and put my head inside it.

Some say your mind plays tricks,

my mind is full of tricks and treats

which need sorting out, choosing

what gets to stay and what is discarded.

Listening to well meaning folk

does not help for well-meaning

touches the  bits that excruciatingly 

torment and hurt the old scarring.

I found a box and put my head inside it.

Arms and legs, torso and all other bits

appear normal and acceptable

covered by convention which applauds

itself daily, hourly, minute by minute.

Tick tock tick tock, it's the long way round

the mountain again, and again, and again.

   I found a box and put my head inside it...

For today's MTB poetry prompt from Laura at dverse poets, we are writing Bop Poetry created by Aafa Michael Weaver.
Poetry Style: a 23 line poem which has 3 stanzas ordered thus, with a 1 line refrain after each:-

• a six-line stanza - that poses a problem
• an eight-line stanza - that expands upon that problem
• a six-line stanza - that solves, or fails to solve, the problem

Include this 1 line refrain after each stanza:
‘I found a box and put a room inside’
OR ‘I found a box…[add your own words to complete the line]

Here is the link: BOP poetry

I Am Me...

 Sometimes I feel quite foreign,

an imposter, a fraud, 

a fish out of water even.

Generational teachings 

of the harm of navel gazing, 

of taking a contemplative selfie,

have camouflaged me. 

Am I even worthy of scrutiny?

Will pride latch onto my persona?

Okay, I will take a chance, a punt,

a 'dare to look' perusal of myself.

Some days Wordle tells me I'm magnificent!

Other days I just scrape by with a Phew!

I bake cookies for someone dear,

becoming splendid, kind and thoughtful. 

No! Stop right there girl! 

Remember it's to be a selfie

not a grading of attributes

that may hinder a true selfie.

   I am me and that is enough...

Punam at dverse poets has requested we pen a poem about 'self'. This has been quite the challenge for me! It has made me feel tres uncomfortable, not to mention ill at ease, to even contemplate writing a 'selfie' poem. 

Here is the link: Selfie Poems