New Take on Unforgettable (Poetry)

Like honey melting on your tongue… the delicious sounds of Nat King Cole singing Unforgettable.

With apologies for subverting those lovely words and heavenly voice, here is a poem which I wrote with that music (and that landscape) in the background. I’m linking it up to dVerse Poets for the Open Link Night.

Fallen trees, from creeklife.com

Incompatible…

… that’s what we are…

We never danced in rhythm, it’s true,
no ballroom twirls or tango glottal stops for you
suffering in brief acquiescence
for the rewards at the end.

You were fast and harsh, I fell for you
out of nostalgia for my previous dance partner
the tall, dark, unattainable one.
So we came together
went out together
grew apart together.

All the art you didn’t see, all the music you made me switch off.
All the books you didn’t read, all the video games I had to watch.

No one ever changes, they say,
but I know I sprout daily
in all directions.
It would only be a matter of time
before we entwined once more into fresh landscapes
I whispered to myself, oh wistful, oh longing.

But now…

all the forks in forest paths we didn’t take,
all the branches we didn’t climb
all the logs we hid behind
until we jumped over them and stopped caring.

You squeezed the music out of heavenly spheres,
you sapped neutrinos of their poetry.
robbed dark matter of its mystery,
tested me on the law of gravity.

Twenty years I’ve listened to you drone
like the exhaust of those Bugattis you admire so much.

And now I sit and ogle at men twenty years younger.

As if life ever gave one second chances.

The Search

I looked around for beauty but I got distracted

by the grey rain streaks echoed on my kitten’s fur

as she sits all pensive on the window sill.

All I notice are water-stained window panes.

 

My brain fries synapses and skips seven beats.

She darts forth on sure-footed pads through the snow

like a lynx in the mountains I no longer have before me

to make up for the fault in my wiring.

 

I missed the deadline on dVerse Poets for the poetic prompt on anthropomorphism of beloved pets, but I am not sure that this poem would have been quite suitable for it anyway. So I am linking it instead to Open Link Night. Join me there for some poetic fun during this month of poetry celebration!

 

World Poetry Day – a few spring offerings

A day late is par for the course for me at present. Here are some poetry exercises – 1, 2, 3 and 4 line poems, mainly about Spring as I was driving two years ago to Provence.

1 line poems:

There’s too much beauty in the air.

 

Spring: the waiting is long, but the season is short.

2 line poems:

I cannot name a single bird.

Does that make my spring rush any less real?

 

How can you not let the landscape fill you?

Breathe in, let it tingle your ribs.

 

3 line poems:

Mountains shed their last

snow mantle. I sigh in bliss.

Car behind honks loud.

 

First full day of spring.

Saint Paul les Monestier:

very name a charm.

4 line poems:

Crooked stones with gaps for windows,

sun-baked lizard on ochre tiles,

birds call out their evening greetings

mending headaches, silent sighs.

 

Napoleon may have passed here on his way

to short-lived northern resurrection.

A stream’s the only one bustling today

in domaines of sea-pine covered indolence.

I am also linking this to dVerse Poets Pub for the Open Link Night. Any form or subject goes, so it’s a poetic delight!

Open Link Night for dVerse

Can you believe that dVerse has reached its #191 Open Link Night? Please join me there for a celebration of poetry in all its forms, sizes, themes and approaches. I’m attempting a list poem this time.

 
Shopping List

Bell peppers
Peeled plum tomatoes
A healthy interest in red-blooded stuff
Onions
Garlic
Vampire teeth well-hidden
Till at least the third date
Puff pastry
Because I don’t like flaky
But not too puffed up either
Grated cheese
A winning smile
Ah, always forget the milk
of human kindness…
There’s got to be more than asking:
‘Need help with your packing?’
While looking elsewhere.

Coffee Shop Haibun

In an attempt to escape the chill in my house and save on heating bills, I took my writing to a café recently, which finally gave rise to some lighter verse. Over at dVerse Poets Pub, we are focusing on ekphrasis, combining art and poetry, allowing them to complement and lift each other. So, instead of a photo of a current Viennese coffee house, I will show you a picture by an anonymous painter showing the first coffee house in Vienna, The Blue Bottle, and acknowledging the Turkish legacy of the brew.

Zu der Blauen Flaschen, from www.dorotheum.com
Zu der Blauen Flaschen, from http://www.dorotheum.com

There is a constant buzz in the air and I can’t help but catch random nouns, fleeting storm of verbs, wondering about the beginning or end of a story. Here once men (and only men, save for serving-wenches) met for important discussions, philosophy and politics, courtly tricks well played. Nowadays it’s families, business meetings and angsty writers. Spoons clink, raucous slurps, children roll playfully under the table. The names of the beverages seem to change daily, as do the baristas: soy-free double cortado, skinny flat Americano… I need a dictionary. Foam and coffee stained, my cup stands a forlorn witness to my frantic scribbling.

Warm my hands on mug
Waiting for inspiration:
Caffeine soaring lark.

The Seas in a Whisper (Quadrille)

Today is Quadrille Monday at dVerse Poets Pub. De (Whimsygizmo) is our word prompter and wishes us to write a quadrille (exactly 44 words, title not included) using the word “whisper” or variants – whispered, whispering, whispers. The hush-shushing sounds reminded me of that beloved British institution: the Shipping Forecast.

forecastmap
High winds: birds convene to Lundy to rest
grooves and gaps
wait out Fair Isle tempest
in dwindle of hay nests
reflect polished beaks
in cloudless brown of preys’ eyes.
When Malin gaze darkens
let’s muster the courage to beacon
our Viking coast.

Haibun: Things I’m Done With

I’m done with swashbuckling pirates or panthers, that faint gleam of danger to hasten the pulse and pinprick the senses. Where winds sweep dry, offer me water, not desert fire. Where waters swirl deep, offer me bridges, not islands.
Give me slow, earthy kindness: spilt fruit of joint labours. I open the window and wait for new breeze.

A plant with deep roots
that can catch my tumbleweed
rest sweet for a while.

Tumbleweed caught in a fence, from National Geographic.
Tumbleweed caught in a fence, from National Geographic. Not the kind of rest I mean…

I’m linking this to Haibun Monday prompt at dVerse Poets Pub. If you want a very good explanation of what a haibun is and does, please visit the Pub and check out all the great examples of prose-poems linked in there.