She sits on the faded violet chair
one elbow resting
on the round blond laminate wood table.
She leans forward,
feet resting on the worn grey carpet.
My reading glasses
sink into the bones of my nose
as I read from my notes;
relaying the news
with my office door shut.
Her eyes meet mine
— wide, deep set, unblinking,
surrounded by a web of fine lines.
“Huh,” she says and sits back.
An uneasy pause
is filled with the tick-tick
of my desk clock.
A brittle smile forces its way
across her guant face.
She says its okay;
of the freeway traffic;
and the slow creeping crawl
of the company’s demise.
Prompt: Trifecta and dVerse open link night.
Autumn trees wear tweed scarves;
brilliant crimson, blazing orange,
with gilded gold tassles.
Hillsides are covered
in the bright fabric;
leaves lay folded in piles,
a bright quilt of color.
leaves curl yellow,
fall to the dirt,
crumple into dust.
The wind carries
the musty scent
of eucalyptus and sycamore.
Autumn always falls into winter;
sometimes a blaze of fire,
sometimes a faded felted blanket.
Prompts: Poets United Think Tank Thursday for signs of autumn; dVerse for symbolic use of seasons.
The kick from your horse hurt like hell;
he launched his hind hoof, lightening fast,
meant for my horse, but not aimed well.
He broke my foot, I’m in a cast.
When we slowed, you turned and asked
why was I swearing on the trail?
First, fill a margarita glass.
Make it strong. Your horse is for sale.
Prompt: dVerse for the form called huitain. This is a specific syllable and rhyme form, neither easy things for me. Good for me? yes. Do I like them? no. The poem is loosely based on fact: my husband’s horse, Flash, kicked and broke my foot while we were having a lovely canter (on vacation, no less). I did ask for a margarita immediately after. I did not ask my husband to sell his horse. That would break his heart.
Before the heat rose,
we closed windows
-while we gathered for breakfast-
in the log house kitchen.
We closed windows,
trapping the cool night air
in the log house kitchen;
drinking our coffee.
Trapping the cool night air;
singing crickets and croaking frogs,
drinking our coffee,
choosing our eggs.
Singing crickets and croaking frogs,
evening song and morning silence.
Choosing our eggs:
all different shades of brown.
Evening song and morning silence;
the kids slept outside;
all different shades of brown
heads tucked inside their sleeping bags.
The kids slept outside
while we gathered for breakfast;
heads tucked inside sleeping bags
before the heat rose.
Prompts: A big thank you to both Margo and dVerse for very fun prompts! Margo prompted us to write about our vacation without naming the topic. dVerse provided a very fun form: the Pantoum.