Twelve. #acrostic, #quadrille. Twelve dozen hours lost in thought, trying, Without any idea of why the fecking this, Effort is, me pounding these words of misdirection, Labouring over forty-four words, Velvety defiantly not this time, Effervescent all I was after. Twelve Without Effort, Labouring Velvet Effervescent. © 10/07/2023 rog leach
Confused Charlie chasses cherished confessions, Othello orchestrates occasional obtuse obstructions, Neither necessarily needed nearby nowadays, Favoured fraudsters flaunting Froggatt’s forgeries, Every evening eternally eating eggs, Spy’s spoiling sultans spontaneous sacrifice, Sultan Steve standing singing sacrifice songs, Indifferent indigenous inhabitants inhale inserection, Othello obliterates Olives obvious observations, oooh olive, Not now, not never, nausea negotiating notions, Spy’s spewing soiled slurry sacrificing societies sense. © 04/07/2023 rog leach
hello all you lovelies at #dversepoetspub.
There once was a lad from bath, He never once owned a staff, He really wanted to be a wizard, until he got lost in a blizzard, Now he acts the sociopath. (c) 18/06/2023 rog leach
thank you Lillian for a perfectly timed #qudrille prompt here @dversepoetspub.
This weekend was a tad special the poem will explain all. I hope!
Presenting one’s best side!
Standing ready to share #quadrille,
To massed horde (about forty-four),
A scare from Halloween,
In the summer sun’s festival.
One minute to
Delight,
Scare,
Enchant,
Or petrify.
Presentation from me,
Given.
To music festival crowd.
Quadrilles they did love,
knowing not what they heard.
© 12/06/2023 rog leach
Tonight at #dversepoetspub Merrill D Smith we have been prompted to write a 144 word prosery based on a given line from a poem. tonight’s line is from James Masao Mitsui’s poem “spring poem for the sake of breathing. written after a walk to Foste Island.” the line being “an early moon is just a piece of change in the softening sky!”
My dandelion life.
(a flash fiction)
The yellow field of dandelions waved in unison with her first orgasm. After having left her fathers corrupt church of evangelists. A christen cult stealing from the naive. Her old life having stagnated under his schoolings.
Her father the local cult leader started every sermon with “An early moon is just a piece of change, in the softening sky of gods heaven!”. Died at the hands of his last lover’s husband.
Under the strawberry moon of the first spring since her release from tyranny. Love finally found her in both physical and emotional forms. Dandelions will forever stand for this the morning of the rest of her life. Aged forty-five she said goodbye to her father’s manipulation and hello to the pleasure of living in a free and easy hippy commune. Love for herself and mother earth now all she felt. No more control?
© 05/06/2023 rog leach
perspective poetry 
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