Cornered in Sam’s Club

Under the glare of warehouse light
steel-eyed commerce crisscrossing
vaulted space above while below
we, in well-trammeled lanes, forage
with brandished carts loaded,
swallow claustrophobic desire
stretch Ali Baba eyes to needful things
as La-Z-Boys race past
iWant-slick bling-gadgetry —
only to be stared down by a winged unicorn:
unflurried pinkness, nestled wonder
in small chubby arms.

Sammi's Weekend writing Prompt #180

A Meteor’s a’Comin’

Canoop! the sound of your loop-tee-do
Enough! the slough of your despondency
Wooditch! the whinge of your panicky
The meteor’s coming ‘ere election day!

Cannip the conniption fit, buddit the funk
Swallow the glut of slubbish bilocracy
Gnash, says the prophet Neal deGrasse
Tyson, we’ll die in a blaze ‘ere election eve!

O Meteor of space! O Deliverer of grace!
You’ll spare us, ‘ere you dare us, with crater
Dustiferous, injurious, deleterious bringer
Of sweltering doom ‘ere we galood election gloom!

Come the third of November, we’ll never remember
Who’s Harris, Who’s Donald, What’s Joe Biden hidin’?
We won’t know a thing when the meteor’s oncomin’
O’er helter-election-welter, combustin’ election eve!

For Peter Frankis's NTB "Let your words ring out" at dVerse. 
Check out Mr. Linky for more poems with "with a focus on sounds"

Letter to No Lycidas

Genre: Poetry 
Word count: 100 
written for Rochelle's Friday Fictioneers 
click on the friendly frog for more tales of a hundred words or less 
& join the fun!
photo prompt © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Letter to No Lycidas

No Lycidas are you, my son,
no watery bier nor desert grave
holds you. But in the crisp
of autumn air, your countenance
lights a distant town, another’s home
a place where you from me remain.
Yet I wonder, pray one day I’ll see
you striding back to see me here;
that one day that old mailbox
will find you on a daily chore
or whether the woods beyond will gape
to hear your lusty songs of praise
to the God of miracles and a Son
who freeing the soul from evil design
heals faultless the sutures of the mind.

The Alchemist

I thought I’d write this quadrille (prompt word “magnet”) in anticipation of Halloween with its cornucopia of bat wings and eerie skeletal thrills. Quadrille Monday at dVerse limits each offering to 44 words, so be warned!

She walks in a drysalter’s den
wearing death, her subfusc,
scattering acedia’s magnetic coils,
like iron filings shot hard
against fate’s blind eyes,
their littoral currents crashing
against her noon day commerce
of herbs, bone dust, pharmacopeia,
against concinnity escaping
fruitless desire, skulking caitiff.

Read more quadrilles at Mr. Linky.

A Perfect Romance

Art by Zurab Martiashvili

“Am I loved?” she asked wonderingly,
throwing back hair, sultry under silken shawl
scrutinizing her groomed shimmering form.
He walked glancingly past a mirror
then stopped to take a more admiring look.
“Darling?” Reluctantly she turned from
her reflection against the dark sky;
he tore himself from his dashing figure.
“How asinine, dear heart,” he ejaculated.
“To love oneself is most divine!”
Embracing by mirror and window
they stood, idols with eyes of glass.

Jude's The Saturday Symphony #14: "Romance" 
Sammi's Weekend Writing Prompt: use "Asinine" in prose or poem with exactly 74 words
Cyranny's Word of the Day Challenge: "sultry"

Give Me, Sister Silence

It’s “Meeting the Bar” at dVerse, where Bjorn asks us to use the autocomplete function in Google to generate lists that transport us to imaginative poetic heights. Check them out by clicking Mr. Linky and join in!

I began with typing in “Give me” as a search term which led me down rabbit holes ending with typing in “silence” midway, trying to find my way out of the dark wood in which I’d ended. Beware Google.

Give me one reason, sister silence,
give me directions home, oh sister do you hear?
give me the time of day a nightingale sings
Silent bays, skies, silent rage and silent lambs
must sit on silent hills, searching Google in Thrace
Satyr Silenus, do you hear, your drunken nights
by Dionysus's side have all led you to make a king
turn a daughter's flesh to gold, oh, oh, oh!
Give me liberty sits enthroned, untutored,
give me love lyrics for dirty ears, Alexa!
ask tongueless Philomela, oh sister hear!
"inappropriate predictions" don't you think? 
Google, show me the severed head of Itys unmourned
unseen, "I'm feeling lucky," tereu, tereu
Non, silento! Basta! Enough! Give me love
I don't need the win, just directions home
from here to there. Give me Jesus. Please.
Give Me One Reason [Song by Tracy Chapman]

Turning Back Loneliness

Written for Paula’s Thursday Inspo #77: theme is lonely and the above image

I’m lonely without You, Lord,
though all the world be mine
the city’s blue-gray skyline
the starry twinkling host

I need to know you near me
Your love-light in my eye
the fragrance of your Spirit
the sweetness of your Word

somewhere I took a wrong turn
I chased my own desire
a world of smug contentment
but lacking peace of mind

I know you never left me
so I feel you all the more
when I’ve turned my back to you
your tender love ignored

I don’t know why I do this
leave you, then come back
as if I never knew You
as if my faith were dead

returning then I seek You
repenting of time lost
joyous to talk to You, Lord,
and walk with You again.

Nightmare Ballad

Today’s prompt on dVerse Poetics, “You Want It Darker,” is courtesy of Lucy who asks us to “write a poem about the transient notion of life to death, or topics germane to the theme. With a twist.” The twist is to write a ballad that “will/can include dark, gothic themes and imagery . . . . It’s October and we’re looking for some dark poetry, publies.”

I’ve taken as inspiration a painting by Polish artist Zdzisław Beksiński who once said, “What matters is what appears in your soul, not what your eyes see and what you can name.”

Zdzisław Beksiński (1929-2005)

Nightmare Ballad

between October’s mists
my ring on your finger
your fingers in her hair
my heart consumes fire

wonders casual causality
between your white-rowed teeth
her crimson, wet-bladed lips
crimes hallowed like wine

when the moon fell from the sky
on a common day of sepia-tints
the ground bled red
nightmares rode split tree trunks

into a necropolis of fears
where decayed hope
breeds madness
the food of the gods

where desires feign love
where mirrors that were eyes
open silently
bend inward
and scream

till I wake

For more on Zdzisław Beksiński's paintings, click here.
Click Mr. Linky for more poems and join in.

Garden Awakening Tanka

“Iglish”: palm-burst noise
City garden cries havoc
Blunt carpe diem
Inbred posturing front rows
Masks of covetous fury.

The English tanka form has a 5-7-5-7-7 syllabic structure and is written from the poet's point of view.
Update: I think I counted right on a do-over of the second and third lines a day later and a tanka shorter! 😅 
For Colleen's Weekly Tanka Tuesday Challenge and Cee's FOTD challenge.

Lady Lavender in Extremis

Foxglove in a Washington, DC garden

She came sailing in —
foxgloves in murder digitalis
shape-shifters in book-covered heat
an Austen novel in her head
pharmacopœia of bottled lust
in everyone else’s closet Gothic
unholstered in a room of Macbeths
unshriven, exhumed desire
— sailing in, lighting torches
blanketed fire,
lavender swan.

Merril's Quadrille #113: "Blanket Us" for dVerse
A dVerse quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words. 
Click on Mr. Linky to read more and join in!