Lady Lucretia's Lapse

(Source: WikiMedia Commons)

Lady Lucretia was a model of decorum.

But that summer’s eve the minstrel arrived,

Her dignity skipped merrily away,

With prudence and pride at its side.

With petticoats aflounce and feet aflight,

Showing more pantaloon than propriety,

Her ladyship was no lady that night.

***

Written for dVerse Poet's Pub, where Toni serves up "skip" as the prompt for Quadrille Monday. In case you are like me and don't know what a quadrille poem is, it has exactly 44 words.

Balance?

(Graphic Source: Open Clipart)

***

Created for dVerse Poet's Pub, where Victoria asks us to think about how we bring balance to our busy lives. While thinking about the ways I've tried to do that, I kept coming back to wondering if it was worth it. Might it not be better to just let some things go? Do we really have to do it all?

The Stand-In

(Artist: Rafael Barradas; Source: WikiMedia Commons)

50 years. You’d think I’d be over it. You’d be wrong.

Oh, sure, I know it’s not my fault. I blame myself nonetheless. Silly? Self-indulgent even? Yes. And yes. But there it is.

We argued. Ironically, I don’t remember why. I do remember screaming, “I hate you,” and slamming into my bedroom.

Those were the last words I ever spoke to her.

How could a 33-year-old woman drop dead of a massive coronary? Daddy said, “Her heart was just broken, honey.” But I knew that. I broke it.

 I’ve been living her life ever since. It’s my job, after all.

***

Thanks to Tara of Thin Spiral Notebook for hosting the 100 Word Challenge.

.

Apocalyse

(Artist: Mauricio García Vega; Source: WikiMedia Commons)

Noisy images, 

           crowding,
                    shoving,
                             splashing
                                     life script
                                             onto the page...

Scenes of cities never visited,
        memories of days more real than those lived,
                 screeching, blaring, thumping street songs
                          filling the mind, spilling words by the hundreds,
                                   day after day, never pausing,
                                            until, one day, they do.

The end?

***

Abhra at dVerse Poet's Pub asks us to 'fess up to being a secret admirer of a poet who inspires us.

.

Renaissance

The announcement reads, “Friends and family are invited to a celebration of Dave’s life.” His was a life worth celebrating. It is his early death that they mourn.

Echoes of his laughter are caught like dust motes in the kaleidoscope of winter sunbeams slanting through stained glass windows and warming those crowded into the little chapel. One by one, they step to the altar, cast off their wrappings of grief, and share the memories of his escapades they carry within. When the last laugh fades, his son and his family stand and move to the large marble font at the rear of the nave. The minister annoints his grandchild, and Dave’s spirit is reborn.

petals drop, decay

fertilizing future life

winter unto spring

***

Photographer Susan Judd is sharing some of her lovely photographs at dVerse Poets Pub as inspiration for Haibun Monday: Beauty in Decay. For those of you (like me) unfamiliar with haibun, it is a Japanese form of poetry that combines prose with haiku.

Faerie Four Step

(Artist :William Blake.c.1786)

In her dream, they hold their ball 

Answering the night minstrel’s call 

Gossamer gowns glitter, all a-twirl 

Faeries emerge to play. 

 ‘Round her pillow they come to meet 

Tripping lightly, fleet of feet 

Swinging and swaying to the beat 

They twist the night away.

***

It's been a long time since I paid a visit to dVerse Poets Pub. Stopping by last night, I was greeted by Grace with a challenge: write a Quadrille using the word "twist" somewhere within its 44 words. I don't know a Quadrille from a Texas Two Step, but it caught my fancy, so...

The One

Tara of Thin Spiral Notebook issued a challenge: write a 100-word story without using the letter A. How could I resist?

The One

The first time I see her, no voice inside me shouts, “Right there! Her! She's the one.” She isn't very pretty. She isn't even  cute. Still, something pulls me to her. 

She sits in the corner by herself, eyes down, oblivious to everything. My gut wrenches. The poor thing, she looks so forlorn, forgotten. 

I go to her. “Hi.” 

She lifts her eyes, those icy eyes! But despite their Nordic frostiness, I see joy fill them when she sees me there.  She is the one. I'm in love. 

I sign on the dotted line. 

 “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s go home.”

(Source: WikiMedia Commons
Photographer: Tim Dawson)