Poem inflated with idea

Forty four words around
This luscious little idea I found
Will help get it off the ground. 

Two hundred six character then
Dance around the navel when
Stretching to encompass pen. 

Hidden in their dulcet tune
grant their gift, boon-
Bursts the poem-balloon

Quadrille day at dVerse the prompt word being balloon. So I thought what if the poem was the balloon? What would give it lift? The quadrille is exactly 44 words long, the form does not specify the character count. The navel is deconstructionist, where the meaning all unravels.

The yearning

Enjoy! Enjoy!
Drink the wine
Balloons and streamers festoon
On the caviar dine
Run your pleasure through its heart
Till all is spilled and spent. 
In the dark bottle bottom
Stabbing shards of pain, 
When the tears stop, in silence there stirs
The returning



The space age

The space age
Was sparked in part by
The race to the moon
Watch the video, YouTube will do
Women and men thick glasses
Pocket protectors, CRT monitors
Oscilloscopes et cetera
The forefront of technology
This so called space age
Looks so archaic today
Crackled radio transmission
Such a long delay
Forty years hence
The poor walk around
With computers in their pockets
More computing power than
Was had by all of NASA then,
All of their research, trials
Triumphs and failures, here,
In the pockets of each
Earthbound Everyman

And here we are, walking around
On earth, in the space age
Celebrity gossip, weather reports
Sports scores and fashion tips

Moon, littered with three cars,
Some lander modules and a flag
Even Jove has felt an earthly fly,
Surely not looking forward
To our return, if we can ever
Get off the ground again


Set my soul free

We got back to the land, a hundred acre parcel upstate.  Had been a camp at one point, till the main building burned.  There were still cabins in various states of decay, and a cinderblock barn.  Pipes had heaved up out the ground, rubbish all around.  And the weeds had grown tall amongst it all.  Deep ruts in the main field, too.

But Richard and I had spent every other Saturday there.  We found a lawn mower in the bush, cleaned it up and got it running.  Cleared out a back field behind the barn mad a comely lawn.  Piled up stones for a fire place, complete with grill.  And when the sun would low like evening cows, the sweat was done and the fire lit, those were some of the best hamburgers I ever et.

Summers day waning
Labors reward sown, and reaped
Scent, smoke, sustenance 

Haibun Monday at dVerse


The more I watch these people speak,
The less I want to say.  For each goes on
About their way, heedless of their audience.

So to the he who’ll not be swayed
or to the she who is all rebuke
How can I gain a good repute?
Only to reflect, calm, staid

Yes but me me mine I’m right they squeak
Neither listening nor hearing going on
My words would do the same, so I choose silence


She shore

She sits in the sand
Intently building castles grand
Working hard, it’s all been planned
Time to go, shell turn, and stand
The sea will yet erode the land

A prompt by miz Q to lose yourself. So much of what I write her is me and my journey (for what else can I know?) so this was a real challenge. This will need to be revisited.