Category DVerse

Down the rabbit hole – dVerse Form for All

freyathewriter 34 Comments

Here’s my latest entry into the dVerse Form for All!

Today, we are attempting the ode in the style of Pablo Neruda, the Nobel prize-winning Chilean poet who developed his own style of ode, dedicated to the mundane, the ordinary, the everyday.

My mundanity is something most of us have to contend with, and yet I think we kind of love it, even if it doesn’t make us happy all of the time…

I hope you enjoy my offering…

*****

– Down the rabbit hole –

You drive me
to achieve what
I would fail
to do
myself –
in the morning
you hustle and
chivvy me
along to
the rhythm of
my beating
heart –
‘Don’t be late,
don’t be late’
you cry
as if you
were Alice’s
white rabbit
brought to life –
every mechanical,
clinking, clanking
cog
working
harmoniously
to save my from myself,
from the terror
of missed trains
and the ire
of irate colleagues –
and yet my love
for your
dependability
turns sour in an
instant
when I forget
to silence you
at weekends.
O alarm clock –
are you my master
or
are your hands
in mine,
when all is said –
and done?

Isolation – dVerse Poetics

freyathewriter 25 Comments

This week’s dVerse Poetics is asking us to look to the future and wax poetic on what we see there. I’m not sure if this fits the sci-fi that Bjorn would like to see, but I’m all about the dystopia, so this is what you’re getting! It’s partially inspired by the Silo series of books by Hugh Howey which I absolutely adore.

I hope you enjoy my creation – and please visit dVerse to read the other imaginings of my fellow poets!

– Isolation –

Trapped beneath the earth’s crust

We only have the myths, encased in dusty pages

Of books never read

To help us imagine what Above

Is

We forgot to communicate

To breathe, to appreciate the wonders

Of days spent outside

In fresh clean air, with people we love –

Loved

The young went first, weakened

Lungs not developed, muscles made frail

By atmosphere choked

With acid rain, fallout from fossil

Fuels

We dug deep, in souls and dirt

Racing hard, dropping the baton, running

To stand still whilst Nature

Wreaked her havoc, unleashing

Hounds

Of Hell, firestorms raging

As we closed the trapdoors above

Sealing our fate –

We don’t know when we will rise, or even

If

…Time passes so slowly here.

All Whipped Up – dVerse Meeting the Bar

freyathewriter 42 Comments

Here’s my latest entry into the dVerse Meeting the Bar. This week, Gay is urging us to explore American Sentences, 17 syllables of deliciousness a little like haiku, but sentence-style and jazzed up, beat poetry style. Allen Ginsberg, anyone?

My selection are inspired by the sudden cold-snap we seem to be experiencing (I love a clear night sky with a bright, white moon!), plus a remembrance of the Great Storm of 2013 we were hit by a few weeks ago. Oh, and the sea, because that’s where I live!

*****

– All Whipped Up –

My beach is glorious in winter, few choose to brave the elements.

My cheeks, whipped raw by sand and spume, rosy testament to Nature’s gifts.

My waves suck and draw shingle, crush shells, shred seaweed, salt crusting old boots.

My shuttered shops, empty carousel, cacophony for eyes and ears.