Morpheus eludes

Morpheus

These parched eyes do crave
the cooling dew drops of dreams
but stay sleep deprived

the night is sleepless
and the morn is still sleeping
the lone moon loiters

my eyes dodge sly sleep
I fill the space betwixt lids
with your loving thoughts

Written for dVerse. Today’s host, Sarah, says: give me your sleepy poems! Your poems of rest and relaxation, of drifting off into the golden haze of slumber! Your spiky poems of lying awake while your lover snores beside you! Your forty winks on a sunny afternoon!

A set of three haiku on elusive sleep.

Back to classroom (a quadrille)

Chalk it up to my ignorance, if you may
sometimes I miss nuances, sometimes wordplay
our verses are as different as chalk and cheese
can’t just anymore creative juices squeeze
I better go back to chalk and duster
leave poeming, was a better teacher!

Written for dVerse. Today’s host, De, says: Just chalk us a poem of precisely 44 words (not counting the title), including some form of the word chalk.

Blanket of melancholy (a quadrille)

When tear soaked memories
intrude silently
threatening to drown me
loneliness holds my hand
and gently cradles my head
it is the season of separation
a cold wind of remembrance
makes me shiver uncontrollably
I wrap the heavy yet threadbare
blanket of melancholy tightly.

Written for dVerse. Today’s host, Li, says: Your challenge, if you choose to accept it, is to pen a poem of precisely 44 words (not counting the title), including some form of the word season.

Imprisoned thoughts ( a quadrille)

(From Pexel)

Sillily squabbling
talkative thoughts
cooped in a cramped cell
elbow for emancipation.

unable to defend their debilitated existence
they resort to unsuccessful rioting.

most are old timers
biding their time
others; new inmates.

only the lucky few will be paroled on paper some day.

Written for dVerse. Today’s host, De, says: Today, I want you to play on paper with the word paper. Just pen a poem of precisely 44 words, including some form of the word paper.

Duelling duo ( a quadrille)

Sylvie Brodi

Inverted questions dangle
by their tittles in her gaze
his downward lashes
try to rummage answers
amongst the papers
strewn on the table

feeling the deep umber stare
contrite bourbon eyes look up
her queries quietly curl their toes
drowning in the twin pools.

Written for dVerse. Today’s host, Björn, says: So today you are to write a Quadrille, 44 words which have to include the word eye in the main body of the poem.

Love is salty (a quadrille)

I still remember the dusky
saltiness of your satin skin
the way it turned liquid
under my warm gaze
the first time I tasted
the saltiness of love was
when I kissed your lips.
now, a solitary salt laden tear
I shed in remembrance.

Written for dVerse. Today’s host, De, says: Today, I want you to sprinkle the word salt into your poems. Whether you make it the seasoned center, or just dash a smidge of it in at the last minute, just be sure some form of the word salt adds a little zing to your piece: Salty. Saltine. Salting. Saltlick. Saltatory. 

Nuzzling (a quadrille)

Now come on,  lets not quibble
you hate it when I scribble
watching rain languorously dribble
so you twirl my hair and nibble
my neck. Can no longer wibble
my attempts to push you away are feeble
giving in to your pursuasion, I giggle.

Written for dVerse. Today’s host, Mish, says: Add the word or form of the word, nibble to your poem of 44 words, not including the title. A culinary theme is fine but certainly not required. There are many things to nibble on.

Lonesome (a quadrille)

All alone, with my eyes closed
I sense you quietly coming
and sitting across
I can feel your bourbon eyes
intense with passion
resting on me.

Startled, I open my eyes
a curtain flutters,
the cold draught makes me shiver
and my lips quiver.

Written for dVerse. Today’s host, Merril, says: Use shiver–or some form of the word—in a poem of exactly 44 words. The form is up to you. Shiver in rhyme, or shiver in free verse. Shiver in the past, present, or future

Apprehension in the air

Trouble brews afresh
turning the blue skies red
sun sidles behind
the diaphanous haze
of disquietude
scared songbirds scatter
schizophrenically; portents of quietus
democracy and disease
stalk life. Angsty but dejected
youth look out for
a messiah to deliver
unaware of the saviour within.

In India omicron has been given a carte blanche with the decision to hold elections in five states in February and March. The virus is, as it is, going dizzy with delirium here because 1.38 billion people live cheek by jowl. We are a happy hunting ground for the Virona!

https://lifeafter50forwomen.com/2022/01/10/what-do-you-see-116-january-10th-2022/

Afflatus (a quadrille)

(From Pexel)

The wandering muse
is a whimsical captor
choosing randomly
willing slaves
for amusement
lavishing gifts
of ideas and words
nurturing the fledgling
giving it wings to soar
Yet
like a deft kite-flyer
controlling the flight
then suddenly
when it takes her fancy
moving on.

Written for dVerse. Today’s host, De Jackson says: Muse. Musing. Amusement. Amused. Use it as a noun or verb or pen some fabulous whimsical word usage of your own.