Strange Metamorphosis

The world is ending. 

Hard to accept 

The world is looking 

Kafkaesque, and 

Its course is getting 

Coarser. 

 

Will cockroaches overrun

Once microbes are done?

 

The world is ending.

 

Except, not now.

So let’s linger

Over a cold brew,

Talk ’til it’s all gone. 

brown wooden chairs and table
Photo by Anastasia Shuraeva on Pexels.com

Another quadrille for DVerse, plus I’m responding to FOWC and MLMM’s Saturday Mix: Double Take. Also, there’s something about those chairs and the focus of that photo that I really like. 

Makeover

A free-verse poem for FOWC: Hack. I decided to post this, even though it’s a little late. Side note: It may have taken me longer to find a picture for this post than to write the poem.


She has half a mind
To hack off all her long hair,
Dye it black, switch to contacts
And try some dusky
Eyeshadow — to follow
That strange, strong desire
To fashion an entirely
New persona, renamed,
Restarting this screwed-up game.

stylish woman with bright makeup resting on lawn
Photo by Thu1ec3 Phu1ea1m on Pexels.com

Clock

This is brought to you by the Writing Wednesday prompt, “time.”Thinking about time always gives me a small existential crisis, so happy reading to you!!


Hands: running in circles,
Unable to turn backwards.

Roman numerals reveal the hour,
Gesturing toward its lateness.

Is every half-an-hour announced
With the sound of a cuckoo?

round black wooden analog table clock on black surface
Photo by Felix Mittermeier on Pexels.com

Nightmare

This week’s décima challenge from Ronovan Writes is to use the word CHASE in one of the C rhyme spots.


A nightmare blooms inside my head
When I lie down to sleep tonight:
Subconscious seems prepared to fight
As into its strange realm I tread.

As body sleeps snug in my bed,
I’m trying to pick up my pace
To outrun what attempts to chase
Me, but as expected I’m caught.
Can I unlearn what has been taught,
To find a new dream to embrace?

Continue reading

Differences

Today’s SoCS prompt from Linda G. Hill is “difference.” Because I really like math, one of the first things I thought of is that “difference” is the answer to a subtraction problem. 🙂  Then I wrote this, which I think counts as a cherita.


The answer to a subtraction problem —

How much has changed, to make life
Foreign and strange, yet better in some ways?

What has been taken away?
Do not forget how much is left:
What has made a positive difference?

What I Love About Today

For February — another thing that I love:
I love the Catholic Church! Specifically today I am talking about the many saints honored in the Catholic Church. Today being February 3, it is the feast day of Saint Blaise. One of the traditions of this day is the blessing of throats, since St. Blaise is considered the patron of those with throat diseases.  For the blessing, the priest uses special candles.

Saint Blase and the Blessing of Throats | Communio
Saint Blaise is just one example of the hundreds, if not thousands, of saints honored in the Church! We also have many other strange traditions, but that’s another thing I love about Catholicism: It is a little weird. 🙂

I even wrote a limerick about today’s saint!

Today on the feast of Saint Blaise,
Parishioners had a malaise:
A disease of the throat,
Yet Corona gloats,
For they must be shut in for days.

Thanks to Paula Light for the idea to post about something we love during the month of February.

A Jumble of Letters

Today is the 11th day of JusJoJan, and the prompt is “Letter,” which is easy to write about because every post is made up of letters. 🙂 I have started several more poems today than I have finished. Many letters have a line but no stanza, and some stanzas stand alone, without a poem. Maybe I could write a poem about that. 

Alright, I’ve actually written something now: dabbling in a Quadrille for DVerse Poets Continue reading

What a Tangled Web We Weave

This is a reverse cherita inspired by several prompts and my need to use dark humor to cope with darker happenings. 🙂 
MLMM’s Tale Weaver: Basket Case
JusJoJan day 8: Twisted
Poetry Prompt: Scattered


I cannot remember all the scattered pieces,
Each and every fragment of fiber woven,
Twisted, made into this locked and loaded

Container held harrowingly in the hand of some
Demonic monster carrying 300 million people.

Where are we going and why are we in this handbasket?