Honeyed mellifluous words tinged with paprika drip from your crushed cinnamon coloured lips your vanilla skin with a touch of sea salt and saffron is reminiscent of the theatrics of the Tuscan sunset like a swollen river undulating through verdant vales the need for you flows recklessly through my veins sometimes you are zatar, at others garam masala making my staid life a mural of flavours.
Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Merril, has asked us to get spicy. Read about it here.
The colour of my skin The country of my origin My sex and my parentage My name and my heritage Of these I did not get to choose any Nor did others in this unfair journey.
I am from the land rooted in the belief of karma Where we are taught to follow our dharma But if everything is predestined Should we then our preference rescind? Then why are there options to make a choice Should we then ignore our gut’s voice?
Since I can think, my choices I do exercise Others may concur or decide to criticise There are always many options to choose from Our choice will decide our future’s outcome Alas! If only it were so simple and plain Yet I stand by my choices and don’t complain.
Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s guest host, Christopher, has asked us to write on the concept of choice.
Clad in your tatty old sweater embraced in your woody, spicy fragrance perched precariously on the crescent moon of past I balance the glass of golden fire on my palm bringing memories of oaky, peaty, smoky muskiness on your breath I inhale sharply the wispy whiff that wafts in burns my throat with remembered bittersweetness I taste the sweetness of brackish tears on my lips my heart is awash with sharp, tingly feel I can smell warm, sticky blood.
Written for dVerse poetics. Our guest host today, Jo aka Worms, has asked us to write a poem of scents.
I am in his city after a long, long time my impudent feet, despite my stern command, traverse the same old path they had taken some twenty years ago
It is a surprise that the place still stands despite the modernization whirlwind I make for the same corner table the gladioli in the crystal vase bring back memories that need exorcism
I order a bottle of Zinfandel to quieten the ghosts as I wait, I glare at the textured walls that snag my tortured thoughts which have gone into a tailspin listening to Cale in the background
There’s no buzz of conversation as it is a slow Monday discreetly under the table, I kick off my heels and I can swear they sighed inaudibly being caressed by the cool marble floor
“Still the barefoot goddess!” the voice from the past that could liquify my heart! exasperated with my imagination I shakily reach for my glass he slides into the chair opposite me and just sits there_
biting my lips I try to contain the decades old maelstrom inside it threatens to spill from my eyes looking intently and earnestly into my welled up eyes, he says, “Please let me begin from the beginning…
Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Merril, says: So today, in my father’s honor, I invite you to write a poem of any style about a restaurant.
At night the psychotic wind went berserk the evasive brown grass waved crabbily bits of paper twisted and turned curvy like energetic juveniles the urban jumble whispered grumpily till dawn
in the morning bathed in the alluring golden glow the sentinel trees stand quietly watchful monsoon’s remnant lies undisturbed but these dregs do tell a bitter story of displaced and moody seasons waylaid by human greed chagrined seasons restlessly look for home having lost their compass they have turned bitter with malice
no cooing flocks of doves to offset the terrifying truth the deserted path tells a tale that has no listeners.
Written for dVerse poetics. Also inspired by Sadje’s wdys and Jane’s random word generator. Today’s host at dVerse, Lillian, says: Write a poem on any topic in any poetic form, that includes at least one of the flavors of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream in the list. You can check the list here.
Stories have no feet yet travel on wind or rain, through words and deeds complete or incomplete constantly in motion; like women like trees; growing, branching replicating over time crossing man-made boundaries finding familiar ground of love and greed hate and destruction uniting despite divisions
All stories are the same and yet told differently carrying seeds of the past in the embryo lies the future moving along jagged coastlines meandering with rivers soft as snowflake like labyrinthine mysteries unfolding symmetries unknown to our minds.
Written for dVerse poetics. Today’s host, Lisa, says: Now that I have hopefully acquainted you with the concept and examples of fractals and connected them to poetry by subject and application, your challenge, if you choose to accept it, is:
1) Use any of the definitions, examples, images, or application of fractals to inspire you to write whatever strikes your fancy.
2) Think about something/someone in your world that you have, up to this point, only given a superficial consideration of and decide to look a little closer at it/them. Use what you discover as fodder for a poem.