I hit play on R.E.M.’s first
studio album, sip
this soft-spoken red
consider my life’s turns.
Had it been,
if I’d had… an aortic,
an Austin Flint, a diastolic,
or an ejection – never learned
what – I might have pursued
But never murmur.
Posted on dVerse Poets Pub. Written for the quadrille night… the magic word is, “murmur.”
Character is like a tree and reputation like a shadow.
The shadow is what we think of it; the tree is the real thing.
– Abraham Lincoln
Crow wings cross blue moon –
singing crow song by the lake
The young guy with the La Closerie des Lilas apron steps out into the courtyard, beret not cast rakishly to the side. Give him time, I think, he’ll learn. His gaze scrapes across the crowd, seeking a target. He carries a beautifully-crafted cheese board.
“Megan?” he calls. A Spring bird on his way back north.
He steps forward, looking here and here.
Raises his voice over the guitarist playing ‘Round Midnight.
After yet still no response – and I wait for it – I raise my hand, “Here.”
His look tells me in advance I’m going to win this round.
“You’re Megan?” He is beautiful in his confusion.
I eye the tray and smile, “Absolutely! Set it here.” I’m a big guy; a bit intimidating.
For a cheese tray like this I will gladly be Megan.
“Um, anything else?”
“Why yes. I believe we ordered two glasses of your fine Pinot Noir.”
As he heads back toward the door, I hold up half of a strawberry in salute to our valiant server.
Goes without saying.
In response to A Red, Red Rose, by Robert Burns.
O my God, to bed with thee, ye sot!
What’s gotten into you?
O a rose is it that I am?
More likely said in brew.
Which lass court you in whiskey cups
That call ye rose as such?
Ah, weel, Bill plied thee with drink
Till a’ your brains slosh much.
Till a’ your brains slosh much, old fool
And your clothes reek wi’ the smoke!
I cart off ye here, old fool
With the stench o’ pub and bloke.
And you sleep while I’m off to pub
Before the closing bell!
May be I’ll home again ‘fore dawn
Or off with some gentle swell!
Posted to dVerse Poetry Pub, Meeting the Bar. The prompt is “Response Poetry.” Write a response to a well-known poem, “I have recently been rereading How to Read a Poem and Fall in Love with Poetry by Edward Hirsch. In the first chapter Hirsch talks about the relationship between the poet (writer) and the reader. He refers to it as being a form of communication between two strangers, often across time, space and cultures. This triggered for me that moment in a literature class when I first read Christopher Marlowe’s famous The Passionate Shepherd to His Love and the response, A Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd, written by Sir Walter Ralegh a few years later. These two poems take the communication between writer and reader a step further because Ralegh’s poem is in direct reply to Marlowe’s poem.
“Both poems are from Poetry Foundation
“The challenge is to write a poem that is a direct reply to another poem. While Ralegh kept Marlowe’s form and meter, it would certainly not be necessary to do that. I encourage you, however, to test your poetic limits by mirroring the form of the original poem. You may also choose to take the challenge to another level by writing two poems in which you respond to an original poem of your own. You may go humorous or serious, ironic or sardonic, but whatever direction you choose, have fun with it and raise your personal writing bar to new heights!
“As always, take care to credit the original poem that you are responding to with a source or link that we may continue to protect the work and rights of all artists.
“Is there a poem that you have always wanted to respond or reply to? Now is your chance!”
Also posted to imaginary garden with real toads.
because there ain’t much meat to the ounce.
I sniff ‘em out and pounce.
Not much fight
in them mousies.
“Love to eat them mousies…!”
because it’s mousies I have to trounce.
Till it’s Caribou time.
That’s when I flounce.
Posted at dVerse Poets Pub, Quadrille night. The magic word for the night is “bounce.”
A nightingale didn’t sing —
a song —
a duet cast
adrift on a sea of air.
her head, listened
to the familiar refrain.
the song she learned
to her other voice.