Susi Bocks shares my poetry at The Short of It

I Write Her

Fabio Jock – Unsplash


Well worn,
our path together,
though not

Our destination
nowhere near

the one we chose.
Where we parted,
all that remains

is a milestone
of what once was
our life together.

Reading Between the Lines


Fine lines, creases
Framing the lips
Corners of the eyes

Within those eyes
A gleam of enthusiasm
The dull shade of weariness

Regarding those lips
The glimmer of teeth
A solemn line of doubt


A gleam in the eyes
Taken for joy
Or is it anger?

Teeth shown in anger
Or is that a hint of laughter?
The lips might say

Or is it all weariness?
The answer lies in both
Behind the mask

Shorter Still

Far from brief, the time left
when viewed in the past.
A lifetime to shape a future,
with no end in sight.

Shorter now, it seems.
The slideshow of bygone images

View original post 394 more words

Gentle Breeze

Gentle Breeze

In snowfall,
chipmunks nest,
await next snowfall,
wait to revive
chipmunks on the run
to see those walls melt.

Despite the celebration,
feel the gentle breeze
of forlorn memories
of your own loss,
thoughts of home.
Find comfort in its presence
in a final farewell.

MTB: In my end is my beginning, the prompt from Laura Bloomsbury at dVerse ~ Poets Pub was a frustrating one for me. Laura asks that we write a poem using the final line from each of our last 12 (or more) most recent poems (in any order). Each line must remain intact, with the only additions being preposition, conjunction, or change of tense to facilitate flow. And yes, frustrating, because 9 of my last 13 poems were haiku or haibun, pretty much a limiting factor.

Ice Castle ~ quadrille

Ice Castle

You fight with fire yet refuse to warm to me.
Years and years of fabrication
after fabrication, building
and rebuilding higher and higher
walls, by a princess in an ice castle,
precarious and perilous,
leave me with no desire
to see those walls melt.


 This is my response to dVerse Quadrille 165 – Warmly,
the prompt from Lisa at dVerse ~ Poets Pub,
which is to use a form of the word warm in a 44-word poem
(excluding title), with no required meter or rhyme.


Leaves in the Wind ~ haibun


Leaves in the Wind

Leaves whisper among themselves, giving voice to the breeze that caresses them. They may speak of birth and the vitality they hold for just one season. Perhaps they speak of the fall dance that awaits them, when they dress in festive colors that shout to the world their exuberance even in their decline. They may move in unison, turn this way and that, shifting shades of green early on or shimmering in the subtle translucence of their late-in-life display, but once they lose their grasp it is the wind that determines their direction.

fallen leaves
rustle in the wind
chipmunks nest

This haibun is another take on the prompt at dVerse ~ Poets Pub,
Haibun Monday: aki no koe (Autumn’s Voice).
I’m sharing it with OpenLinkNight #327 at dVerse.

My first response is here.

Cloud of Fallen Leaves ~ haibun

Cloud of Fallen Leaves

Four hours of raking leaves into piles and another six hours of raking from the piles onto a tarp to be dragged to my compost pile in the corner of my yard means two days of yardwork, every year. Last year, I decided this old body needed some sort of relief, so I bought a gas-powered leaf blower. At twenty pounds, the backpack is not uncomfortable, and the leaves are blown into piles within ninety minutes. It may be a timesaver, but it still takes two days to move those leaves. I’ll be happy when they can finally be teleported.

cloud of fallen leaves
moves at high velocity
chipmunks on the run

This is my response to Haibun Monday: aki no koe (Autumn’s Voice),
the prompt from Linda Lee Lyburg at dVerse ~ Poets Pub.

The top image is my leaf pile, which fills to the top every year

This is just one quarter of my leaves
(And yes, chipmunks scattered from one pile as I started to rake it onto a tarp)