hello all at #dversepoetspub.
Here is my quadrille for Merrill’s mirror prompt.
Mirrored!
#quadrille, #reflections, #dversepoetspub.
Am I dreaming,
Am I witnessing,
Russet red sunset over,
Autumn coloured trees,
Strikingly Reflected in,
Unrippled water,
Beautiful nature’s bounty.
Mirrored.
Mirrored,
Beautiful nature’s bounty,
Unrippled water,
Strikingly reflected in,
Autumn coloured trees,
Russet red sunset over,
Am I witnessing,
Am I dreaming.
© 15/05/2023 rog leach
sharing a grandparents love #grandparents
Thank you De for tonight’s Quadrille prompt of the wonderful word “map” here at #dversepoets prompt.
Under your x #quadrille175.
Put a mark on their map.
Leave something behind,
A time capsule wrapped,
In a memory.
Give your children’s children,
Some buried treasure.
Like my grandparents left for me,
Marking the map of my heart,
With their treasure of love.
Not all treasure sparkles.
© 01/05/2023 rog leach
today at #dversepoetspub we are invited to write about music. It is something I have always enjoyed.
Punam at paeans unplugged has invited us to included some Linda Perry song titles in our posts.
I have chosen the following from the given list, “Edge of your atmosphere.”, bang that drum.”, “life in a bottle.” and “secret lover”.
The following are links to poems on the subject i have already shared. the second two I have share numerous times at open mic nights.
Music #quadrille.
106 Drums
Music Dab
My two favourite songs at the moment are She by Alice Phoebe lou and Kokopelli by Omnia.
Open mic fun.
The butterflies are there,
As I enter the open mic,
Entering the,
“Edge of your atmosphere.”
My name goes on the board,
The “secret lover” that is,
My shenanigans stick,
Appears in my hand.
“Bang that drum”.
Shake the shenanigans,
As I recite, audience,
Not always with me.
Music always thunderous,
Enjoyable predominantly,
But not always but better,
Then a “Life in a bottle”.
Local musical friends,
And poets of course,
Brought together by music,
Wrapped in its warmth.
© 25/04/2023 rog leach
#seashore, #haibun,
Late spring cravings!
https://dversepoets.com/2023/04/24/haibun-monday-late-spring/
Haibun time at #dversepoetspub. hosted tonight by Linda.
A longing grabs my heart each and every late spring. In late April and early May an insatiable urge to visit the sea shore takes hold. Grabbing me by the throat as the cherry trees blossom and the tulips show their colours. My heart is ladened with its winter blues. Worse this year, than it has been for a decade or more. The wet and grey dragging me down more for each year I still have to use the bicycle. The call to visit the salt sprayed coast getting stronger with each dull wet day. Each time a ray of sunshine breaks through and catches a tulip flower, gets me remembering the summer seashore flowerbeds visited in my youth.
Each breath demands salt,
Heart loaded with memories,
Warm sea breeze caresses.
When time and money allow the craving will be fed. It does not happen each and every spring. This year the craving is back with force. It has been almost eight months since I filled my lungs with the smell of the sea. where will I next eat a meal with a sea view.
© 24/04/2023 rog leach
welcome all to tonight’s #dverse poets pub where we are talking #windows.
This picture is the window in front of which I work. this winter it froze on the inside forming the pattern shown.
Wistfully. #winterblues
Here I stand cold and tired,
Wistfully waiting for warmth,
Melancholy overtaking my thinking,
Anticipating being warm again.
Staring through icy windows,
In need of a warm summer holiday,
Winter blues biting deep,
Freezing this heart.
Wistfully waiting an end,
An end to cold,
Cold damp drudgery,
Just wistful thinking.
View from window,
As frozen as my heart,
Craving an end to winters,
drudgery.
A permanent fix required,
The frozen windows bars of ice,
Breaking this heart as it knows,
Of no summer holiday to come..
Knowing the melancholy,
Will follow me through,
To next winter’s biting,
Bitter cold wondering?
Wondering if I shall survive,
Another winter gazing,
Through a window of ice bars,
Without, without, without.
© 18/04/2023 rog leach
perspective poetry 
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