October Frost

Photo by John Nupp on Unsplash
Well it’s about time.
I stretch and yawn frosty breath upon the dawn.
Summer’s heat has left the fields,
September at its end.
October welcomes frosty ground and white tipped grass;
My personal hello.

Nip at your nose and shivers up your spine
My specialties.
See your breath, when I’m about,
Speak to me between chattering teeth.
I’m Jack Frost:
Cold of hand, head and heart.

As the orange glow of Autumn begins,
The calendar says ‘O’.
It is my time to rise and give crunch to fallen leaves,
In the dim light of morning glow.
The cool wind of October blows
Through ripe apple leaves and pumpkin fields.

So welcome me in October.
The month I enter in.
To frost the tips of berries still on the vine,
White outline on window panes,
Precursor of snowy days.
It’s October. Jack’s Home!

This was for a dVerse prompt:

1) Serve up a pumpkin as the main dish (literally or metaphorically) or as a side.

2) Adopt a persona and write in the first person voice of a regional folklore character (e.g., Baba Yaga, Tam Lin, or Ichabod Crane) or fairy tale character (Rumplestilskin or Cinderella).

or

3) Help us see, smell, hear and feel October in your poetic lines, grilled over the fire of memory and imagination.

I went with 2 with a dash of 3. Jack Frost, who I found out does not have definite origin or singular first story or fairy tale. He just kind of evolved and is hero or villain based on creator’s whim. Hope you enjoyed reading!

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And The Crowd Boos

The Rogers Centre in Toronto, Ontario. Photographer unkown.
They come into the dome
A game of great consequence
The crowd abuzz
Electricity fills the air
I sit with you
Full of nervous energy
The home team up
Two outs
I bend the knee
Strike three!
And the crowd boos
She said yes

This is for a dVerse prompt: “Don’t be bamboozled. Just scare us up a poem of exactly 44 words (not counting the title), including some form of the word boo.”

It’s playoff baseball time here in Toronto and the city is buzzing with the Blue Jays winning. So it played into the poem today. Hope you enjoy!

How Do I/You/He/We/They Love Thee

Image by Hanin Abouzeid from Pixabay
How do I love you?
How could I not?
I love by my actions
By my thoughts and words
The beats of my heart

How do you love me?
How could you not?
What are your actions?
Do you think of me? Speak of me?
How does your heartbeat change
At the mention of my name?

He stood there a question on his face
How could he do such a thing?
Yet how could he not?
His actions betrayed him
As did his words and thoughts
His heart raced as he saw her

How do we love each other?
Could we really be apart?
We love by being together
You finish my thought and my sentences
Our hearts beat as one

They love each other don’t they?
I mean how could they not?
See how they are with each other
They’re practically one, finishing each others thoughts
They are the alternating beats of one heart.

This poem is for a prompt from dVerse: “So today I would like you to challenge yourself and try to write from a different perspective or maybe even several perspectives than what you normally do.

You can do this by either writing something totally new or if you prefer, take an old perspective written from for instance first person singular and change it to third person.”

I couldn’t think of what perspective to write from. I usually write from first or third, though I’ve done second a bit and even third plural. Those have all been done in prose writing mostly. But the thought of taking one piece and switching the perspective intrigued me so I figured I’d do one stanza in each perspective. That is what you got. I hope you enjoy!


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On a blank page

A rengay I did with David from The Skeptic’s Kaddish

Verse 1 – CSL
I sit and ponder
the many mysteries
that lay on a blank page

Verse 2 – DB
marks surface over the flame
inkless signs begin to glow

Verse 3 – CSL
burned offerings
of a tired soul
smudged salutations & fictions

Verse 4 – DB
embers write the sky
heat awakens blackened wood
flood recedes to earth

Verse 5 – CSL
rainbows and butterflies leave
welcoming a beginning

Verse 6 – DB
cursor blinks in wait
one poet inspires the next
a rengay begins

Happy

The pursuit of Happyness lays in Happy Accidents
Tripped up memories
Stumbling on happiness like a drunk at the party
The Happy Prince, the curious clown,
More happy than not,
By choice, if not circumstance

Happiness is a choice
Choosing you over me
You are my happiness
With every smile
We are Happy together

Let me find happiness in the joy of another
Be it friend or lover
My happy is yours
The gift of a frown turned upside down
Are all the Happy Days I need

This is or a dVerse prompt – “For today’s Poetics, we will try to make this Tuesday a happy Tuesday. I am sharing titles of some books. You can incorporate one or as many as you like in your poem.

1.The pursuit of Happyness by Chris Gardener

  1. Happy Accidents: A memoir by Jane Lynch
  2. The ministry of utmost happiness by Arundhati Roy
  3. Stumbling on happiness by Daniel Todd Gilbert
  4. The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde
  5. The art of happiness by the Dalai Lama
  6. More happy than not by Adam Silvera
  7. Happiness is a choice by Neil Kaufman

If the above titles don’t inspire you, you can simply write us a happy poem. The idea is to smile as you write and put a smile on the face of the person reading your poem.” I hope you enjoy and smile. 😊

Open Petals

Image by Pexels from Pixabay
Petals of a flower open to capture the dew of a misty morning / sweet perfume lingers over pretty color dresses / enticing  and enchanting drawn like the bee / I wander through a garden of open petals / need I choose one to pick to be mine 

This is from a dVerse prompt: “Write a quadrille (a poem of EXACTLY 44 words, not including the title) AND include the word “petals” or a form of the word within the body of the poem. A synonym for petals does not fulfill the prompt. It must be the word, or a form of the word.” Hope you enjoy!

Black corded whip

Strong, leather, precision tipped
Held in a hand in complete control
Tame my inner whims
Strike from me my soul

Under your guided hand
I become what I need to be
Released with each crack and sting
Me true self is set free

Petulant yet reluctant
I bend not the knee but waist
Bent over clothes free
I simply wait

“Count aloud.” A simple command
Comfortably said before
Crack and sting. One
Crack. Two. Sting. Three

Tears and clarity
The calm of an empty mind
Yours to shape
Mine to obey

Black corded whip
My simple salvation
Take me away
From every situation

Cover of Fornication's Fire on a background of flame

Fornication’s Fire

Burning passion, hot action, Fornication’s Fire. 30 erotic poems about the fires of love making, sex … fornicating. Modern poems take you on a journey that is sensual, sexual and burning. Read Fornication’s Fire on Amazon and KU. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09PMHYRP5

Shiny Metal Circle

Given in love
Taken as devotion
A symbol
I am his and his alone
This metal collar
Photo by Lance Reis on Unsplash

The cover of The Sex Cycle Collection. All four covers in a collage.

Buy The Sex Cycle Collection

The Sex Cycle Collection a collection of 4 books: The Sex Cycle, Seduced by Seduction, Fires of Fornication & After All is Said. Read over 150 poems that explore the spectrum of sex, desire & relationships. Four books of erotic poetry collected in one book.

Available in ebook, paperback and hardcopy! https://books2read.com/u/4jPV12

White Color Motif

A polar bear in a snowstorm. Drawn by me
The easy thing to do would be to use red. I’ve done it before. Hot and fiery. The color of blood, bleeding on the page. Red in its many hues pink as a blush or the dark burgundy of spilled wine.

But no. How about blue? Such a poet’s color. Blues beat down from the avenue, weaving their melancholy melody over the street. Looking down from the sky, reflections of an ocean on teardrops from the atmosphere. Blue bells, blue balls, blue suede shoes dancing to a slow song alone.

But no. None of those will do. I need something new.

So white. White sounds right. Ooops, that might not sound too right. Colored in controversy especially in today’s light. White is all the colors, tightly contained in a single line, a point on the spectrum, of the visible and invisible, light, matter and energy, wave, say hello, oh I see you, white light. Bright is white. The color of my flashlight on my phone, flash bulb, say hello to the selfie, oh but that ain’t white. Still bright though … right?

White is a winter’s day, with a polar bear, with the snow blowing, eyes closed so the black pupils can’t be seen, ruining our blank paper masterpiece. White is the beginning of every written story ever told. In the beginning was not the word but the blank page. Oh God does spoken word performances, didn’t you know? Only writes on stone tablets. In lists of ten. No wonder He only works six days of the week.

White is absence. Pigment gone, albino trace without the pink eyes. White lilies don't tan in the sun. Frosted tips of grass, but just the tip. The cause of the crunch under your feet. Bleached tissue, no longer brown, now suitable for wiping tears or blowing your nose.

White I might write as the color tonight. A flight of fancy, lightbulb bright. White no longer is my screen or my page as it seems; that white is no longer a beginning but the end after the period.

This is for a dVerse prompt: poetry with a colour motif:

  • take one or more literal colours (not a fancy colour name)
  • repeat the colour word(s) throughout the poem (e.g. refrain; anaphora, epistrophe)
  • use colour synonyms
  • employ colour with its specific meaning to the poem’s theme
  • let your colour motif(s) also become symbolic

I obviously chose white. I hope you enjoy the poem! 😊


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