Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #25

Micropoetry MonthA Quadrille (44 word poem) this morning that came out of nowhere! Sometimes, you start writing something and it takes on a life of its own and picks its own form, chooses its own words and then dares you to make a single change. The poet then, is just a channel, a medium for thoughts even he or she has not fully understood.

Spark your own micropoem and share using comments or Mister Linky! Do stop to read the lovely poems shared by fellow bloggers!

I want to know
what birds call the sky,
how fish fear the land,
where the wind thinks it’s going,
how stars prepare for death.
It can’t be just me
sitting on the edge,
with all these words
that cannot explain
what I’m feeling.

 

Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #2

Micropoetry Month A quadrille (44 word poem) and a haiku on this second day of November! And yes, the monsoon is still on my mind and in my soaked shoes! After a record breaking season, the retreating NE monsoon seems to have more to say.

Join the party with your own micropoem- in the comments section or using Mister Linky. There are no rules- whatever the muse whispers!

(1)

somewhere an autumn
tumbles through the space
between bough and earth,
shrouding the sins of summer,
but what do I know of fall,
here the rain collects in
cloud coloured puddles,
the sky is giving way,
my face wears the mask
of improbable winters.

(2)

a requiem half-remembered
an autumn-winged bird
contradicts the monsoon sky

 

I Sing Along

from salt and pepper photographs
sprinkled on strange brick walls

my memories make up their own memories

filling the quiet of the never spoken
with familiar music

I watch my feet remember the rhythm
I feel my lips hum the tune

I sing along

Quadrille: a 44 word poem
Linked to the Dverse Poets (Prompt: Pepper)

Half a Rage

a coy drizzle
half a rage away from a storm
you know you can silence thought
and carry in your vortex
lip and unspoken word-
yet you wear your best dress
and kneel on the damp grass
holding out your
glassy grey hand…
why?

Quadrille: a 44 word poem
Linked to the Dverse Poets (Prompt: Drizzle)

Picture Imperfect

incongruence
in faded monochrome,
soap bubbles and balloons
straddling anachronistic creases,
remembered things in forgotten spaces,
faces lifted at awkward angles
to uncoloured joy,
eyes too dark, too bright,

the grey matte veil
shuddering for one unfiltered moment,
as if someone laughed,
or cried.

Quadrille: a 44 word poem
Linked to the Dverse Poets (Prompt: Balloon)

Sign Here

instead,
the denouement springs upon me
an unwelcome lassitude,
a misshapen discontent smeared upon the gloaming,
fatigued questions
curling upon the trellis of night,
the dots under them huddling in lines,
sign here, they scream,
you have to agree,
this is how it ends.

Quadrille: a 44 word poem
Linked to the Dverse Poets (Prompt: spring)

Dissonance

there are sounds that should never be born,
the wail of a mother burying a child,
the giggle of an underage bride on her wedding night,
gunfire, slamming doors, the falling away of a hug,
the screaming quiet of loneliness,

eyes quickly looking away.

Quadrille: a 44 word poem
Linked to the Dverse Poets (Prompt: Giggle)

The Seduction of Dawn

the seduction of dawn
is that she is the beginning,
the harlot of infinite possibilities,
her hennaed fingers
inching forward slowly,
I close my eyes,
night’s hand is still warm
across my insomniac fears,
what was it
that damned moon
was warning me about?

Quadrille: a 44 word poem
Linked to the Dverse Poets (Prompt: Dawn)

Memories Age Badly

memories age badly,
turning brittle like dead butterfly wings,
flowers fallen long before them,
songs packed into the dust;
but whispers swallow sound and sighs,
growing, growing every day,
what you said in my ear that night,
how long before it becomes a scream?

 

Quadrille: a 44 word poem
Linked to the Dverse Poets (Prompt: Whisper)

The First Word

on new year’s furrowed brow,
the first word,
a secret anointing,
that remembers,
that clotted ink on the silver nib
is smile residue,
but tangled lines,
like medusa’s curls
turn poetry to stone,
drip venom into its metered abscesses…
already blue veined wings flutter.

Quadrille: a 44 word poem
Linked to the Dverse Poets (Prompt: Curl)