November 2022 – This Jolly Beggar

No, but Yes, November

A response to “No!” by Thomas Hood (1844)

November threatens forgetfulness
of summer’s desire, the yearn, the yawn, the yes!
of existence, with no! of “no shine,
no butterflies, no bees”

with creak of knees, lines of face
silver hair and brittle nails
and yes! wintry death of all desire
but for the joy in plenitude

carpe diem of eternity summering in You.

“Thus the snow loses its imprint in the sun.” (Dante, Paradiso)

For Cee's FOTD (Flower of the Day), a dahlia;
"No! Vember," d'verse's Poetics prompt, pays tribute to "No!" by Thomas Hood and asks that we take "a line from this poem and use it as springboard for a new poem." I chose "No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees."

Shadow-walking

When we came to Shanty’s Cove,
it silent lay; behind black-wreathed
doors no threatening alarms were raised.

Shipwrecked bodies washed ashore
now fast buried lay; the town’s life yet
unrestored, Hemalini and I roam free.

Shadow-walking peaceably where thalassic
currents thrash, we wonder when
we’ll be forced again to flee.

For Carrie's Sunday Muse #236 weekly photo prompt;
Sammi's Weekend Writing Prompt #285
50 words exactly; using "thalassic"

Landmark

Somehow this decayed tree trunk standing upright like a shard of a giant’s bone brought me to a standstill during a recent walk.

Landmark

Unignorable as stone
Is the giant bone that lies
Alone
In a long forgotten zone
Left there by a sullen
Crone
Now she lives in Provolone
Eating cheese upon her
Throne

For Cee’s Flower of the Day: “Don’t forget that my FOTD challenge accepts gardens, leaves and berries as well as flowers.“

The Disappearing Man (story)

Genre: Fiction
Word Count: 100

The Disappearing Man

For the hundredth time, he recognizes this as the moment he loses her.

She looks out the window at the restless pecking of a wren, relaxes into its movements.

He sees the colors drain from his world, like an old timey flick on a spool ticking the moments until the screen fades into flecks of black and then, THE END.

It’s the moment to bow out, without fuss. It’s just a social experiment, marriage, though it’s lasted five years.

“Let’s skip the play and stay home,” she says, turning, and he, seeing the colors return, says, “I’m not going anywhere.”