Digging to China (poem)

A Quadrille prompt this week at dVerse Poets, “Let’s get digging”, comes from Punam who asks that we use the word “dig” or some form of it or the D – I – G in other words (like digital for example) in the Quadrille, which is a 44 word dVerse Poets poem, not including the title, that includes a prompted word.

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Digging to China

Tried digging to China

see if I would emerge upside down

become different,

new

.

I dug

past waiting worms

bones of my undead ghosts

a rusted lunch box rattling with childhood

foundations on foundations

a Chinese man digging the other way

.

We nodded,

understood

Cricket and the Bird Window (Zuihitsu poem)

A new prompt at dVerse Poets is of a poetry called Zuihitsu. The Prompt is here and explains with a number of fantastic examples.

Now whether I’m on the right track with the style of this I’m not really sure, I could be completely off base, but it seems to me that this one does have a bit of room for interpretation so …

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Cricket and the Bird Window

I’ve a blind cat named Cricket whose Meow sounds like a plaintive cry, a howl, a meowl if you will, as she stretches her neck upwards to throw it to some cat gods that only she knows though sometimes I think, or hope, that maybe it’s a cry for me, her constant in the darkness, and that is enough for me to mean something.

I opened a wintered window last night to today’s changing morning to shock me with light birds, happier ones, not slogging with heavy wings, heavy thoughts

No one mourns some passings

They danced me stories in their landings that seeped and steeped behind my eyes into the flickering space where they kept time with my lids and flapped rhythm into song

It’s nice to fly when you can and you wake before you can’t

You can learn lessons from the pained examples of excess and hubris heaped upon us, on our angry daily as I thought to open another window the next night but thought again, thought better, trying to put lessons to use

Cricket could feel the room move around her, change temperature with a cocked nose, under the bird window and she cried, not for me but for new air? For her cat gods? For birds?

Coming back from the grocery store I passed a nursery but couldn’t afford to stop to add anything new to life, just have to hope the hardy ones return and make do with old company

This morning beneath my lids again, in my safe flights, I told the birds not to worry of the cat under the window, she couldn’t see them, they said for me the same, not to worry, that maybe she was just crying for them in the fresh wind, and that that is enough for them to mean something

A Letter to Mom From the Floor (poem)

In a prompt at dVerse Poets this past Thursday Laura invited us to think of letters in a poem.

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Letter To Mom From the Floor

They flew at your insistence

in a uniformed stewardess’s winged pocket

I thought

my letters to the far off

land of your other family

with scrunch faced glue tongued

relief at completion but

hidden glimmed

anticipation

of response

that I write

now          

here in the near off

land of a hospital floor        

realizing immortality not well thought out

and any anticipation

of response

is gray winded under my hat to hide

the unkempt hair of thoughts

in such correspondence now

not the forward days of baseball and friends and camp in the summer

to regale

instead a tangle of years to trip on in the dark

and stumble backwards ghosts of old discovery and wary wisdom and found fear

but fly

still

at your insistence

letters letters to the here off

land of them strung together

to make whole from pieces or more make nonsense all of

a letter to you Mom, in a far, far off

land whole and nonsensical

where maybe they receive mail

in winged stewardess’s pockets too