In Praise of the Flowers

I had fun with the quatern for DVerse yesterday so write another one tonight. The picture of the sunflowers was taken yesterday, in my backyard garden.

Remembering the sunflowers
Turning their heads to source of light,
Making the most of cloudy days,
Even in absence of sun's rays.

When dull becomes my inner gaze,
Remembering the sunflowers
I think that there is present joy
Somewhere, inside this life of mine.

Remembering all small delights:
Coffee and food, music and books,
Remembering the sunflowers 
Themselves, with yellow-petalled looks.

Inspiration blooms well today
Inside this heart, the soil is rich
And certain light will always shine, 
Remembering the sunflowers.
Photo taken by me in my yard

Not Long Mine

I'm glad I loved you while I could,
Although you weren't long mine to hold,
Spring rain to sun to winter-cold
In May, with much more left to say. 

Although you will not hear it all
I'm glad to've loved you while I could, 
And tears do not mean bitterness 
Except unto myself, my dear.

To have inspired such poetry 
Is quite a feat, and much of it.
I'm glad I loved you while I could,
Even if you deserved it not. 

I thought you always would be there
Mon Cher, how foolish and naive 
I should have known. Although I grieve
I'm glad I loved you while I could. 

For DVerse, we are writing quaterns, a French poetry form. I am also linking to Thursday Inspiration, since the theme is hold. Comments are appreciated. I know I didn’t put a lot of imagery in this, but I’ve just got to write my feelings, or I might literally die. 

love free standing letters on top of cabinet
Photo by Tomer Dahari on

Raw Memory

It’s Haibun Monday at DVerse, and Frank suggests the theme of MEMORY. This was difficult and is more stream-of-consciousness style (so if it sucks, that’s why). It was inspired not only by recent events in my life but by the image that Frank chose to illustrate the original post:



orange leaves floating 
juxtaposed on navy lake
amid faint ripples

It is spring; what is with the images of autumn? It seems the seasons have flipped, for the world is upside-down. 

The concept of "memory" feels too painful to probe. I remember your electrifying touch, yet closer is the searing flame of knowing I will never experience it again. 

Tears prick my eyes. I remember the last time it rained, and you were there near me with your warmth. It is spring, yet it is a cold and cloudy day, and I shiver. 

bare tree branches --
what was present now is left
crunching underfoot
Photo by Daniel Frank on


What if, what if? The words echo, just as reverberations of choices make their voices heard in next steps, in decisions subsequent. There are so many possibilities that it is impossible to know in the moment which one will lead to happiness and which to regret. 

How many permutations exist in space, in time? I sit thousands of feet above the sea of Maybe, atop the mountain of Longing, slowly standing. 

There are no fences along the edges, so I approach the precipice and jump. 


For DVerse Prosery. Our given line is: “In space in time I sit thousands of feet above the sea” from May Sarton’s poem “Meditation in Sunlight.” 

Photo by Balram Swain on

An Important Date

Mr. Goodbar.

He was my Valentine’s date last year, a king-size chocolate bar from my mother, although you did give me a card and a box of 4 dozen golden-wrapped Ferrero Rochers on another day. I couldn’t help missing you, however, on that most romantic of holidays.

I couldn’t help missing you in the past 6 months since we ended our relationship. The past few weeks, though, the pain has largely eased.

Tomorrow I have planned nothing. Maybe my mother will bake heart-shaped meat loaf, or I’ll receive a vase of flowers from my father, both family traditions. Some happenings never change, but this year’s a different thing — I’ll not think of you.

For FOWC: Past and DVerse’s Prosery, for which the given line is, “This year’s a different thing, — / I’ll not think of you” from Charlotte Mew’s poem “I so liked Spring.” I wasn’t going to share this but have decided, “Why not?” 

My mom’s Valentine’s gift for me last year 😆


For DVerse’s Quadrille Monday, we are to write a poem of 44 words containing the word “ice.” I couldn’t help dipping my poetic pen-paintbrush into some dark paints. Not sure if it’s good, but it’s the best thing I’ve written all week. 


She tries to ward off his advances,
Feeling helpless as a daisy in a snowstorm
As his icy fingers chillingly caress
Her hair as if it were pure-white petals,
Before he rips them, callously as if limb-from-limb.
Her tears are the dewdrops of mo(u)ring. 
photo of white daisy
Photo by Alan Cabello on

MVB Prompt: Advance.  

Found Poem from 2022

The prompt from DVerse MTB is to use the first lines from the first poem of each month of 2022 to create a found poem. Yesterday I gathered all of those poems, 12 in all, so here I am trying to create a new piece from all of these, with no additions “other than tense, preposition or conjunction.” It’s going to be….interesting. 🙂 Linked with JusJoJan: Reversal because time is going backwards today.


Six years ago,
The devil absconded 
With my ability to hope
For good —
Blood, very life, for
12 years — 

May the scent of roses guide
Through these darkened paths,
Resolve to try hard every day,
And ask for help when I cannot,
Resolve with peace of soul to pray
As a child has rest
Trusting in its parents' love
And in provision --
As little children cannot wait, 
For their sweet and icy treat,
So God does not despise
A humble and contrite heart.

I will sing
Even dirges
With a certain
Happiness — 

Big pebbles, tall plants
Flowers a long way away,
Viewed from the hard earth,
A vase of red tulips
Left on steps

For so many honors, accolades, and wealth people strive on Earth:
Holding your hand —
I miss how strong it felt.


Gaudete (Rejoice)

A poem about light for DVerse Poetics on this feast of Saint Lucy. This is a re-working of a poem I wrote on Sunday, which is known as Gaudete Sunday (“Gaudete” means “rejoice.”).


The third Advent candle, the Joy candle
Joyful Advent Sunday
Third candle and rose-colored vestments

In Scripture
Given encouragement: 
Soon will the Savior come unto us

Waiting through
Any discouragements,
Keeping the Advent candles burning


For DVerse Poetics: Cheers!, we are to write inspired by a drink. I’m glad that it wasn’t limited to alcoholic beverages because I don’t drink; in fact, I find the mere smell of alcohol repulsive.

Other people have written gorgeous poems involving wine, but this is mine. 😅 I write what I know, haha. Comments are appreciated. 

Starbucks is my bar. 

I walked straight there, after
Getting my heart broken (again)

I needed a hot, tall (handsome?)
Dark roast immediately that morning,
And time to cry and write.

The salt from my tears
Under the rims of my glasses

Made me look somewhat on the rocks.