Visual Verse Publication

This week, my poetic response to a picture prompt has been published in Visual Verse’s online journal.

I wrote a piece entitled Closed Eyelids and I believe my inspiration came from Grace Nichols’ Praise Song For My Mother.

Martini’s Tanka

Martini’s peach slice,
Dwindles on the rim, before
Falling in. Ripples.
Not a swig, untouched, before
Your hands appraised my blushed skin.

In response to Ronovan Writes’ Haiku Challenge #313 found here

Couldn’t resist lengthening the Haiku.

Finding Hope

Hope is always a light,
Flickering in crowds,
At the end of a tunnel,
Or lining the clouds.

Its either dazzling white,
Or a tepid yellow,
Beaming orange rays,
Or a silvery glow.

Could it be found in shadows?
In the absence of blinding light.
Simply a black room,
In the blanket of night.

Feel the comfort of dusk,
Of indigo skies,
A starless nightfall,
By closing your eyes.

Shared for Open Link Night at dVerse found here

Left Behind

As we approach the end,
We become you and I.
We stood together once, but now,
You go your way, I’ll go mine.
I can’t look forwards,
Whereas you don’t look back.
You impulsively march onwards,
While I still wonder what to pack.
With steep mountains ahead,
I recoil, so afraid.
No sight of you in the distance,
I wish you could have stayed.
I need to be held tighter,
For longer, forever.
Even so, I wish you well,
With your courageous endeavour.
I still feel left behind,
Alone, in apprehension.
Until I find my own helm,
I’ll wade through this suspension.

Anxious thoughts tickle you into a state of paralysis. Remind yourself to take only small steps forwards.

Silent Rain

Listening to the sound of rain
Creates serenity.
Busy minds tune into the lull.
A provoked tranquility:
Calm enough to ease,
Loud enough to dispel
Unwelcome thoughts,
Wish them farewell.
A raindrop is silent,
Until it splashes.
Like his internal plight,
Before he turns to ashes.

Image credit: Pixabay.com

In response to dVerse’s Rain Poetry Prompt found here

Gratitude for Average

If I was a dessert,
I’d be the humble banana split,
A reliable ally.
I just don’t have the character,
Of the rich key lime pie.

If I were a flower,
I’d be the plain-petalled daisy.
No obvious dangers.
I just don’t have the character,
Of grandma’s hydrangeas.

Being average runs in the family,
Nothing mystical to see here.
I’m thankful though.
I just don’t have the character,
To put on a show.

Image credit: pixabay.com

In response to the Paint Chip Poetry Prompt Challenge #27 found here

Rippling Dreams Décima

I sat beside a charming stream,
On the trunk of a fallen tree.
A perfect place to peacefully
Reconsider my latest dream.
I admired the water gleam,
Watching courageous ripples ride,
Toward the rocks, and then collide,
Meandering around the bends.
It taught me changes are not ends,
So I can drift, no need to glide.

In response to Ronovan Writes Décima Poetry Challenge Prompt No. 7 found here

Sailors’ Delusions

Sirens’ enchanting ballads
Flirt with sailors- a perfect illusion.
Unintentionally deceptive.
No escaping delusion.
The sly texture of her scales.
Lashings of hair, hiding skin.
Shells conceal her modesty,
Still, she draws the sailors in.
Both clueless and frivolous,
Equally attuned to curiosity.
Both dreamers, parched of love.
Beauty masks her animosity.
She steals their hearts,
In promise of devotion.
Robbing them of sanity,
Before returning to the ocean.

Image credit: pixabay.com

In response to the dVerse mer-people challenge found here

Writer’s Block Décima

Writer’s block is an artist’s mite;
Tumbleweed blowing in the wind.
The malicious blank canvas grinned,
He cocked his head, and laughed in spite.
Who transmitted this parasite?
I want my thoughts to merge and mesh,
Creating poems filled with flesh.
Who ran away with my ideas?
This has confirmed all of my fears.
I buffer when I press refresh.

In response to Ronovan Writes’ Décima Challenge #12 found here

Nature’s Romance

White crests break across the bay,

Every time you glance my way.

Moonbeams dance on the ripples of the sea,

Every time you smile at me.

Dappled sunlight scatters through woodland,

Every time you reach for my hand.

The golden sun sets, fades out of sight,

Every time you kiss me goodnight.