Going Nowhere in Fragments

Going Nowhere in Fragments

As I drive down the highway,
cars pass me like I’m standing still.
Maybe I am. I have no idea how fast
I’m going. My mind is going somewhere else.

Did she even know what
she was talking about? What
I was talking about? What
were we talking about?

I remember hearing the door slam
as she closed it behind me.
I remember my car door
slamming as I turned the key.
Nothing looks familiar.
I wish I knew where I’m going.

This poem is my response to MTB: Picking up some Pieces, the prompt from Laura Bloomsbury at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, which is to write a poem of disjointed images, a fragment poem – a part of a larger work or a poem made to appear discontinuous or incomplete. “Fragment(s)” must be used in the title.

Image source: agriculture.com

Music to My Wary Bones ~ tanka prose

Music to My Weary Bones

When I bought my house I knew there were a lot of trees on my quarter-acre lot. The first time I raked the leaves, I counted the trees. Forty. Even if eight of them are cedar it still means I have thirty-two trees dropping leaves. Every year. Fortunately, the trees and brush on the lower quarter of my pie-shaped lot are so thick that I don’t consider it to be lawn. Every autumn, for nine years years, I raked leaves into piles, raked them onto a tarp, then carried them downhill, to the giant leaf-compost pile I had fenced off. Then I walked uphill, to load the tarp again. Twenty to thirty times. Fifteen to twenty hours over a couple of weeks. Until now. I finally broke down and bought a gas-powered backpack leaf blower. I worked with ear-protecting headphones, but as I joined my neighbors in blowing leaves I’m sure it sounded like a chorus of screaming banshees to the outside world. All I heard was classical music on Spotify as I blew those leaves downhill.

fall cacophony
blue jay squawks in protest
all sounds are muted
flying leaves in carefree dance
as Vivaldi’s music plays

This tanka prose is my response to Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday
Weekly #Potery Challenge No. 254, #SpecificForm.

Wake Up Call

Wake Up Call

Pouring them down late into the night.
Burning up the world, and yourself
in the process. Remember those days?

Then behind the wheel, homeward bound,
oncoming cars the light that kept you awake.
The radio’s blare and the window’s rattle.

Feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah.
Drumbeat on the steering wheel,
counting headlights to the music’s rhythm.

Wondering the next morning how you got home.
That’s when you finally came to your senses.
How did you ever survive those days?

This poem is my response to This one’s for you, Bjorn!, the prompt from Lillian at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, which asks us to use “word for word, one line, and one line only” from the lyrics of Dancing Queen, by ABBA. (“Feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah“)

Image source: Wikimedia Commons

Embrace the Beauty ~ quadrille

Embrace the Beauty

Within the beauty of your golden crown
lies no concern for loss or thoughts
laid bare by harsh truths. Though winter
will surely come, hope never leaves us.
Spring will follow, again and again,
until we embrace the beauty
of our own bare branches.

This poem is my response to Quadrille #141: Heady is the Poem That Wears the Crown, the prompt from D Jackson at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, which is to use a form of the word crown in a 44-word poem (excluding title), with no required meter or rhyme.

Image: Maple at Ha Ha Tonka State Park, Missouri
                    (click for larger view in new tab)

Heavenly Triangle ~ wayra sequence

Heavenly Triangle

Sol’s light on Gaia
casts shadow into darkness,
yet, in a brief conjunction,
leaves Luna as brilliant
when it sets as when it rises.

Gaia’s Demand

Shine your light my way.
Think not of her icy stare,
bestowed in her insolence.
Instead, illuminate
my daily pirouette for you.

Lunar Lament

Keep it to yourself.
I have no need for your shade,
cast into the darkest night.
This bond I share with Sol
will not suffer from your presence.

Sol’s Dilemma

How is one to choose
between beauties such as these?
Luna, with her nightly glow.
Gaia. So full of life.
May the heavens hold an answer.

I did not stay up for the 3:00am near-total lunar eclipse on 19 November 2021, but I did take this photo at 9:37pm photo of the full moon.  (click image for larger view in new tab)

This wayra sequence is shared with OpenLinkNight at dVerse ~ Poets Pub.

The elements of the wayra are:
                                        ~ a stanza in 5 lines
                                        ~ syllabic, 5-7-7-6-8
                                        ~ no rhyme

Broken Wing ~ haibun

Broken Wing

Before I retired, I worked as a driver and dock worker for a trucking company. My job was to drive a truck called a yard horse. I used it to move trailers in the terminal yard, including moving them from door to door or pulling full trailers from the dock to be hooked later to road tractors.

One night, I was all caught up with moves, so I walked onto the dock to check on the progress of a trailer that was nearly ready to pull. As I walked onto the dock plate to look into the trailer, I bent down to pick up a broken piece of pallet wood, so the dock worker wouldn’t have to drive over it with his forklift. As I bent down, Juan glanced over his left shoulder to be sure the way was clear. I stood up and proceeded towards his left as he looked over his right shoulder. Seeing the way clear, Juan backed into my right side, knocking me to the concrete dock. The eight-thousand-pound forklift then rolled up my boot and stopped on my ankle. They say I screamed like a little girl before Juan realized what was happening and pulled forward. I believe it! Juan was especially apologetic, although the accident was my fault as much as his. In fact, probably more so.

I was taken by ambulance to a hospital, where my broken ankle was fitted with a cast. Waiting for me were two coworkers, Dennis and Jim, who had finished their shift and were concerned for my well being. Dennis even took me home, twenty-five miles in the opposite direction from his home. I was thankful to be working with such good friends.

bird in nest
watches falling leaves
broken wing

This haibun is my response to Haibun Monday 11/22/21: Giving Thanks,
the prompt from Frank Tassone at dVerse ~ Poets Pub.

Image source: hss.edu

behind closed doors ~ wayra

behind closed doors

anxious to escape
regardless of confidence
waiting in the backs of minds
for whispers to be shared
limitations of secrecy


This poem, a wayra, is my response to
Sunday Muse #147 and the photo provided.

The elements of the wayra are:
                                        ~ a stanza in 5 lines
                                        ~ syllabic, 5-7-7-6-8
                                        ~ no rhyme

Image source: flickr (meagain625)


pretentious altruism ~ wayra

pretentious altruism

social consciousness
embraced with self-interest
camouflaged as compassion
will undermine a cause
to the detriment of others


This poem is my response to Poetry Form: The Wayra, the prompt from Grace at dVerse ~ Poets Pub. The wayra is a popular verse form in Peru and Bolivia, originating in an indigenous Quechua language and adopted into Spanish literature.

An additional challenge is to use onomatopoeia in the poem. I’ve addressed that by placing a revision in the comments.

The elements of the wayra are:
                                        ~ a pentastich/a stanza in 5 lines
                                        ~ syllabic, 5-7-7-6-8
                                        ~ no rhyme

Image source: Wikimedia Commons