Feeling the heat

It was a slap, more than a punch.
A Spanish back of the hand,
more than a puñetazo.
No warning.
No leading up to the main course
with some pequeños platos
to help acclimatise,
to give one a taste of what was to come.

Coming to the end of our visit to Cordoba, in Andalusia, South Spain, where it has been scorching. The heat really hits you! Linking this to d’Verse poets and this week’s Monday Quadrille which is brought to us by Whimsygizmo aka De Jackson who asks us to write 44 words of poetry which include the word ‘punch’ or variation thereof. https://dversepoets.com/2022/09/19/quadrille-160-poems-that-pack-a-punch/

Advertisement

Keep the Noise Down

https://www.pexels.com/@tdcat/

Work complete as day turns night,
Deities play with giant dice,
Rumble rock cubes in the sky,
Clash their jugs of mythic wine,
Sparking jolts of metalled white,
Whilst mothers bolt the windows tight,
Worried bairns would wake affright
As the thunderous clouds ignite.

Linking this to d’Verse Poets where Lisa was serving at the bar last night, inviting us to write a Quadrille using the word ‘work’ . (We had a hum-dinger of a thunder storm last night. Awesome lightning illuminated the garden as the thunder clashed above the house. )

Waking up to dervishes.

https://www.pexels.com/@quang-nguyen-vinh-222549/

Morning tugs at the fog,
like a child tugging at its mother’s sheets.
Hills, shoulders, emerge from the night,
blinking in virgin light, unsullied with the day.
Gulls and shrill voices fill the air,
whirling dervishes of energy,
looking for scraps, fingers of toast.

Linking this to d’Verse Poets Monday Quadrille. This week Linda Lee Lyberg is hosting, and has chosen the word ‘morning’ for our 44 word quadrille. See more at:(https://dversepoets.com/2022/08/22/quadrille-158-morning-has-broken/).

Get the Picture?

Image courtesy of Pexels.com, Suzy Hazelwood.

A silver tongue tarnished.
Promises scuffed where a clumsy hand
Has wiped over half-truths.
At times, perhaps, a case of over exposure.
Popularity short-lived,
Usurped by a public that preferred transparency,
And a less polished performance.
Less elaborate. Less acid.
Less of a daguerreotype.

Linking this to d’Verse Poets where De Jackson is hosting tonight’s Quadrille Monday and asking us to pen a poem of exactly 44 words to include the word ‘type’ or version thereof. (https://dversepoets.com/2022/08/08/quadrille-157-whats-your-type/)

Worthless Words

Lustred jewels and promises draw our eye,
Halt us in our tracks. Spellstopt by words
we foolishly took for wisdom.
They’re no more than paste baubles.
A cheap trick. Yank on the
fraying string and watch
them skittering
down the path
one by
one.

Linking this to The Sunday Muse Blogspot http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/ with Carrie’s smoking selection of images and also to d’Verse Poets https://dversepoets.com/2022/06/13/quadrille-154-casting-a-poetic-spell/ where Sanaa is serving tonight’s quadrille challenge to write a poem of exactly 44 words using the word (or form thereof) ‘Spell’.

Succumbing.

https://unsplash.com/@claybanks

Skyscraper tusks stab the sky,
unicorns prick silver holes
and score flashing arcs
across the pitch of night.

The pale medal of yesterday
swings overhead,
lulling the restless,
singing its nocturne.

And we sleep,
among the dashboard flickers,
slow breathing
our day into meaning.

Linking this to d’Verse Poets where Sarah is hosting tonight and inviting us to write a Quadrille (poem of exactly 44 words) to include the word ‘sleep’ (https://dversepoets.com/2022/05/16/quadrille-night-sleepy-times/).

Skittish Spring

Image by Charles Tyler, Unsplash

Spring steps forward
plucking dead leaves from her arms,
flashing colours from beneath the grey coat
she has hunkered under, waiting for her season.
As we reach in for a kiss,
her warm breath on our skin,
she scatters flakes of ice
and vanishes.

Lisa is hosting at d’Verse for the Monday Quadrille, (https://dversepoets.com/2022/04/04/dverse-monday-quadrille-149-tis-the-season/) inviting us to write a poem of exactly 44 words which includes a form of the word ‘season’.

Floating.

Photo by Rikku Sama, Unsplash

The air is ready to burst –
a puffed zeppelin,
its seams stretched to split,
with songs of ‘hear me’, ‘first me’.

Beaks of chirp and flute,
cut into spring,
like scissor tips
snipping through silk habotai.

Pastel notes float down –
flakes of paper confetti.

I am linking this to d’Verse where WhimzyGizmo (aka De jackson) is on Quadrille duty, with the word ‘paper’. For more details visit the d’Verse site at: https://dversepoets.com/2022/03/21/quadrille-148-papered-poems/.

NB: Silk habotai is also known as parachute silk.

Soaking

Image by Toa Heftiba, Unsplash

Shadow lashes flutter on steam drip tiles,
born from hemispheres of gutting light.
As soft lavender soaks the air,
white salt water clouds my neck
to my toes and I sink
lower until I
am just nail and
hair in a
fog of
thought

This is a very late response to Monday’s quadrille prompt from De Jackson at d’Verse to write a 44 word poem including the word ‘salt’, or some form thereof. I have used the reversed etheree (again – I must like this form!). A bit late to link it to d’Verse, so I’ll just post it here.