no fish (e)#q228

Quadrille # 228

No fish (e) #Q228.
#qudrille, #berkhampsteadpoetrysociety.

Fill up,             Fill up,
Fill up on, fill up on,
Wild, wild, wild
Fish,
Day in, day out,
Filling my stomach,
But not tomorrow morning,
Barracuda and carp haunt my night,
Groggy morning down am I,
Bad day, bad day,
Without fish,
No,
Fish.
 


© 28/07/2025 rog leach

Tonight’s Quadrille @ #dversepoetrypub asked us t use the word fish. i am also a member of the Berkhamsted poetry society who have asked it’s member to write a poem without using the letter “E” so fish(E) was born.

sweet dreams.

Who has a sweet-tooth?

candyfloss nebula

Sweet dreams.

The milky way is my sweet shop,

Poggled* shelves fully loaded,
With,
Skittle Stars from candy floss nebular.

The starship Twix hunting,
The snickers galaxy,
For the captains kit-kat,
Lost when we starburst away from,
The dull-drumsticks into,
Sweet dreams.

*poggled the art of seeing something new about something or somewhere you have known for years. Like an old scar on a familiar face.

© rog leach 22/07/2025

hello dear #dversepoetrypub regulars today we have been invited to write about sweets/candy/chocolate bars. i may have added a some not on the list oops.

Turned

dVerse Q227 – Welcome as we reTurn after the break & Happy 14th Poet Pub Anniversary!

what a great start to the 14th year of #Dversepoetrypub. the byrds song turn turn turn featured inspired this poem

taken at Bushey performing arts festival

Turned.
#quadrille, #dversepoetspub.

Where is the child,
The shy quiet child.

All turned by life.

There is a season,

A turn, turn, turn,
Every new life season.

Turn, turn, turn, adolescent,
Hiding from bad times.

Shy child into poet.

Where is the child,
The shy quiet child.

© rog leach 14/07/2025

The Last Poppy

The last poppy.

#anti-war.

Here I stand alone,

Blowing in the breeze,

The last of my kind,

Red.

The bombs of man,

Have finally stopped,

Witness to man’s demise,

Alone.

Scorched blackened earth,

Weapons of war defunct,

No more man,

Death.

Red,

The last of my kind,

Blowing in the breeze,

Here I stand.

I dream

. . . the sun’ll come up . . .

I dream.

#quadrille, #dversepoetspub, #antiwar

Melancholy dreams darken my heart,
Fractured sunrises over war torn lands.

Fractured sunrises forever.

Belief of the greedy weapons dealers,
Propaganda selling arms as peace keepers.

Peace never reached.

Fractured dreams of peace and love,
Melancholy sunrises over promised cease fires.

Never being realised.

© rog leach 02/06/2025

its my favourite evening at #dversepoetrypub. yes quadrille night thanks to Lillian for the sunrise prompt.