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 lambsmust sit on silent hills, searching Google in ThraceSatyr Silenus, do you hear, your drunken nightsby Dionysus's side have all led you to make a kingturn 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 loveI don't need the win, just directionshome
from here to there. Give me Jesus. Please.
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.
The late heather blooms In wild array, scent chill fogs Fall’s breeze, through mists, bogs Take hold of moors, mount the heights, Stay, watch summer’s sweet demise.
Image attribution: wikipedia
Written for Jude's The Saturday Symphony #13:"Rhythm of Autumn"
-- Let us go retro this week and share a thought on the season, with rhyme and flow.Sammi's Weekend Writing Prompt: Using the word "Heather" write prose or poem in exactly 27 words
Broken shadows across the cracked ground your grave day lost in flurried words like September leaves across yesterday’s hallowed ground grief yet uninterred: you six years gone from my sight till Day breaks.