Let Sleepy Towns Lie

Posted on August 29, 2018 by Maggie C

The sands of time had ground to dust.
The wheels of justice left the bus.
My day in court long overdue,
due process – it seemed – had stood me up.

This sleepy town gave me arrest
for stealing nest eggs off their nests.
When left to choose ‘twixt right and wrong,
I wrongly chose, then quickly left.

Blind justice sniffed me out that day,
threw me in jail; the key, away.
Each year, society’s ransom grew.
How long until this debt was paid?

One night I knew just what to do.
I poison-penned an IOU,
slipped through the cracks and stole away,
and vowed my life of crime was through.

I bailed from jail, but I’m still not free.
I watch my back, it watches me.
I’ll no more practice to deceive, ‘cuz
from ‘neath her blindfold, justice sees.

dVerse Poetics: Twisted Adages. “For this week’s Poetics, we will start with an adage, or several adages, but we won’t stop there. I am asking you to craft your poetry around an adage or two that you must change in some significant way.”

I may have gotten a bit carried away with my wordplay, but you know, when it rhymes, it pours.

I wrote a previous post that fits the bill for this challenge as well. You may find it here.

World Within Bivalves

Posted on August 27, 2018 by Maggie C

For you,
I would move heaven and earth.
But where in the world would I put them?

The world is your oyster.
I shall place heaven and earth in an oyster.

Universal themes, these.
Pearls of wisdom.
Heaven and earth on the half shell.

dVerse Quadrille #63 – Earth

Turning In

Posted on August 20, 2018 by Maggie C

It is 10 PM. My dog Chules stares up at me from the floor, where he has been sleeping most of the evening. He wants to catch my eye so I will realize it is bedtime. I’m not sure how he distinguishes between his many naps and bedtime, nor do I understand why he feels responsible for getting me to turn in at this particular hour. Nonetheless, bedtime it is.

As per ritual, I open the front door so he can go outside and relieve himself one last time. Not wanting to draw moths to the light inside, I step out onto the porch, close the door, and wait in the dark for Chules to finish his business. Sometimes he gets right to it, sometimes he goes off on a final check of the yard’s perimeter. On warm nights like tonight, he is just as apt to sit on the lawn and gaze at the stars. I join him in sitting and gazing, though I’m certain our ruminations run on very different tracks.

it is quiet tonight except for the chirping of crickets. I don’t recall having heard them for quite some time, and I find comfort in the familiarity of nature’s music. So much of it has gone missing. After a time, I stand and Chules comes trotting back to the porch. We go inside and — having settled my mind and his kidneys — we retire to our beds in peace.

crickets serenade
on dark, warm nights I eavesdrop
songs not meant for me

dVerse haibun Monday: crickets

Ship Shapes

Posted on August 14, 2018 by Maggie C

To fit ships inside bottles is indeed very clever,
but I would prefer that my bottles held rum.

To ship boats in boxes – though no lofty endeavor –
while sipping on rum could be fittingly fun.

Moral:

Drunk lips drink ships; bottled boats don’t float.

dVerse Quadrille #62 — Boxes

Hiroshima, reluctantly

Posted on August 6, 2018 by Maggie C

August 6th is the anniversary of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. For the dVerse Monday haibun challenge, poet Frank J. Tassone suggested we write a haibun “that states or alludes to either the Hiroshima attack, or one of the themes of the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Ceremony, such as peace, the abolition of nuclear weapons, or the horror of nuclear war.”

From my place of privilege, I would rather post about my pets, show photos of flowers… you know, the nice feel good stuff. I almost passed on this week’s poetry challenge, but given the current state of the world, I felt it important that I not do so. So, not my usual fare, but in my thoughts:

It never really registered, when I viewed the black and white newsreels. The children, in the street, crying. Some naked, their clothes having been burned off their bodies. Some… I wouldn’t even want to describe it. I wouldn’t want to put it into words, because then maybe it would cease to be a black and white movie, and it would be real. Real flesh and… flesh and…

… the flesh, it was melting off their arms.

Mushroom cloud rising
I can only imagine –
no, not even that

Picking Up the Pieces

Posted on July 30, 2018 by Maggie C

Reluctantly I select one.
Meaningless; set it down.

Bored, I ponder others.
These to the left; those up top.

Angry, I’m seeing red.
To the right with those.

Puzzled, I look up.
“It’s forming a picture.”
“Yes,” smiles the therapist.
“That’s how this works.”

dVerse Quadrille #61, Puzzle

Six truths and a lie (or vice versa)

Posted on July 20, 2018 by Maggie C

I saw it coming from the start.

It all just sounded too good to be true.

Later it seemed too bad to be true, but it was.

When you tell enough lies, they start to sound true.

Truth hurts sometimes, but only if you believe it.

Lies hurt, too, because truth always prevails.

I never saw it coming.

dVerse Meeting the Bar: Septet

Vice and Virtue

Posted on July 17, 2018 by Maggie C

I am greedy for your charity.
I lust after your chastity.
While some may call me slothful,
I prefer “procrastinatory.”

I admit I’m green with envy at
your temperate humility.
and yet I take great pride in times
my wrath yields to civility.

I’m a glutton for your kindness.
You’re impatient with my pride.
I am sinful, you are virtuous.
You’re Jekyll, I am Hyde.

If you offered me an apple,
in the garden we could hide
With your heavenly companionship,
it’d be one hell of a ride.

Inspired by the dVerse Poetics challenge to write a poem based on the seven virtues (charity, chastity, kindness, temperance, diligence, patience and humility), and the seven deadly sins (greed, lust, envy, gluttony, sloth, wrath and pride).

that voice

Posted on July 16, 2018 by Maggie C

Like an itch in my psyche,
your insults taunt me.
In truth, am I that abhorrent?

Niggling accusations,
crippling judgments,
peripheral flashes of
forgotten shame…

That and more, you say.
We’ve only scratched the surface.

I really hate the sound of
my own voice.

dVerse poetry challenge Quadrille #60, itch

Off the Wall

Posted on April 30, 2018 by Maggie C

Forty scientists and engineers and
computer programmers toil each year,
a million bucks per annum spent,
a decade now, with price so dear.

Another study of fifty years,
such value held in answers sought,
in labs where winged subjects die,
though scientists claim it’s not for aught.

The topic: vast data processed in flight,
motion and movement sensitivity;
the interconnections of brain nerve cells
that exceed computer capabilities.

Complex, for sure, but fifty years?
Such lengthy studies in part explained;
the task of handling small electrodes
when attaching them to house fly brains.

Now, I may not a scientist be,
but the question I would like explored
is why flies crash into window panes
instead of flying out open doors.

NaPoWriMo Challenge, Day 30 (final day): write a poem that engages with a strange and fascinating fact.

What Rhymes with Stanza?

Words at rest, words at play

Category Archives: daily prompt