One Destination

Started in a baby carriage
Went to a tricycle
There always ways one
High on a unicycle
Bicycles were norm
Speed became reason
Cars kept you dry
In every season
On and off trails
Back roads, back yards
Wheels take all
To the graveyard

Linking up with dVersepoetspub.com.  Quadrille Monday. 44 word poem excluding the title) Prompt word is cycle, any form. Since my last entry was on a serious note and included this word, just a bit of levity today.

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Seasons, Cycles and Furniture

An acorn has no choice but to be an oak tree. It cannot change the shape of it’s leaves, nor does it choose where it grows. It shades summer, colors autumn, bares itself steadfast and strong in winter, and sighs out a refreshing welcome to Spring. It continues every season. And if its purpose is the chair I sit upon, it holds me. Death does not stop it’s life.

Weep not for your cause
Opportune moments will die
Trees listen in wind

Open link night at dVerse. Well, this is morning. Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

To My Children

The Apostle Paul wrote of contentment
From inside a jail cell
John saw a vision of the Lord
On an Island of outcasts
What we view as an end
May be a beginning
We may go great lengths to hide ourselves
Yet God’s love goes great lengths to show Himself

 

You know much of my story
I can tell you how I survive
But I can’t write yours
I have not your eyes

 
All my words to guide you
Are meant as stepping stones
I know something of minefields
The loud cries and silent moans

 

It seems so senseless
But maybe not
One day my senses sharpened from the blast
And I heard what I had forgot

 

Though my words get rearranged
You know me enough to know
The message is the same
And hearing is the last to go

 

Out of my own womb you came
Loving you is loving myself
Losing you is losing myself

 

I can’t let my echo become a whisper
Absorbing itself into the earth losing all meaning

 

Linked with dVersepoetspub.com. Today the prompt is to write my own advice to someone who’s life may improve by it.  I chose my children.

 

 

 

 

Freedom’s Wings

There is nothing that looks like freedom more than a bird in flight. But even they are not free. It is just their mode of transportation. They are subject to prey. They can become sick. They can fly into windows chasing after their own image. They can die from the cold. Maybe true freedom is exercising the right to not be free. To be submissive, not subservient. Freedom is in willingness. Does my being free allow another to their right to be free? Even birds squabble.
My mere appetite
Governs where my feet follow
Tastes change with seasons

 

dVersepoetspub.com. Today is haibun Monday. 1-3 tight paragraphs of prose ending with w haiku. Today’s host is asking that we write including the word freedom.

 

 

Positive in the midst of negative

It is not words
As much as silence
That speak dissonance
Curdled clouds darken the sky
Staccato in the distance echoes
A shuddering wind
Loosens the voice of trees
Birds sleep soundly
So do I

Taking this challenge on dVersepoetspub.com. Prompt is to write positive using negation in poetry. Defining abstract and emotional by defining what is not.

 

When Words Begin To Fade

Words Matter
I posted it on my wall
They matter
Till they matter not at all

Water quenches
Only the thirsty
I can also drown
As it goes down

Winter chills
Summer swelters
Each sends us to shelter
Craving what the other offers

Ideals betray
Like hallucinations
Floating dreams
Replace firm foundations

A need to pause
And seek repose
Till my words return
In line with ancient logos

Linking with dVersepoetspub.com for open link night. Posting my own poem and possible taking a break for a bit to recharge. I will still be reading other entries though and commenting.

 

 

Wardrobe Street

Haberdasheries and Millineries
In the cobbled cockney neighborhood
Of London’s East side
Whitechapel District in 1888
Vendors of hats and men’s notions
Caused such a commotion
T’weren’t a place for fancy galas
Prostitutes
Street graffiti
Jack the ripper
Seedy parlors
But a name should have diversion
To draw one into the aversion
How harmless is a name?

 

From a list of street names the prompt at dVerse is to choose one from a list given and write a supposed explanation of the name. I chose Wardrobe Street.