this bustling marketplace is a blend of stores, stalls and vendors
food and music is everywhere
clouds of smoke from barbecue wafts, spices are very pronounced!
flavors from my childhood linger in every corner
pressing forward, I was happy to wander back in time
Pat
5/14/24
For Quadrille Night over at dVerse where the prompt word is “Place”.
To read or participate go here.
Quadrille #201: Poems of Place
our friday night hideaway
a table for two
that jazz quartet
that voice –
meandering, lamenting the blues
the hills, the valleys
soulful notes
mournful notes riding the bass
the story of a life – in and out of the blues
at our friday night hideaway
Pat
4/25/24
This was for quadrille night but I didn’t finish it. So I’m sharing it here on OLN being hosted by Grace over at dVerse.
To participate go here.
Worrisome, unsettling times
lead me to wallow.
Sometimes in fear
at other times,
in the simple joys of my mortality.
I search out small
gasp worthy moments,
holding them close.
This sunset, a diverse gathering,
seagulls, pigeons, crows,
sparrows and humans – and
no misbehaving
Pat
3/07/23
For dVerse Poets quadrille night where the prompt is “Gasp”, and De is hosting. To participate or read go here.
melting into your kiss –
a recurring memory I hang onto
to keep me sane
to say goodbye
to move on
Pat
2/21/23
For poetics over at dVerse where Kim is hosting and we’re talking ‘kisses’. To participate or just read go here.
This pink flower is the heather. It beams from the clutter of a garden still under the spell of winter. Each year it gets stouter, more portly. It starts flowering in November or December. I am surprised every time. I wonder how such dainty looking blooms survive such cold. Grit, I suppose.
Next to the heather is the coneflower. That too tends to want to spread out. Only, it wakes up much later. It is always interesting to watch these two jossle.
That side of the garden is ‘survival of the fittest territory’. I am taking lessons and aligning myself with their determination and grit. As such, I am squeezing you out of my thought process. This gift you came to appreciate way too late will no longer swim in thoughts of you! This year’s a different thing, –
I’ll not think of you.
Pat
2/14/23
For prosery Monday over at dVerse where Merril is hosting and the prompt is to incorporate the following lines into the prose
“This year’s a different thing, –
I’ll not think of you.”
from Charlotte Mew, “I so liked Spring”
Go here to participate or just read
When I was growing up, each day of the week had its own menu. Sunday was beef, wednesday was stewed (red) peas, friday was fish and saturday was soup day.
The different types of soup sounds a little nuts, but they were good. There was beef, cow cod (don’t ask), fish head, cow foot, goat head, red peas, split peas and chicken soup. Red peas soup was my favorite.
That thing was a meal. My mom would let us ‘help’ by passing the vegetables which were carrots, celery, turnips, yellow yam, potatoes, and dumplings. We all wanted to help make the dumplings. A soup without dumplings was just not a good soup in our house. Then, of course, there were the spices – salt, scallions, thyme, garlic and pimento seeds (Allspice).
These soups brought a healing touch to every part of our insides. You could smell it from everywhere! It was fuel, it was filling, it was love.
through this autumn gray
memory from childhood wafts in –
soup day, saturday
Pat
10/25/22
For dVerse Poets Pub where the prompt is “soup”. The host for Haibun Monday today is Mish. To participate or just read go here
Moving across parched earth
a ground level dust cloud drifts
With the same breeze comes the scent of rain.
It was the rainy season and
somewhere in the distance
a quenching was in progress
Soon, it will be time for that soothing rhythm on the tin roof
Soon, it will be time to secure a spot on the verandah and make paper boats for the puddles
Then scampering down the steps through large plopping raindrops to set sail the next paper boat
Paper boat sailing – in this family of four kids, a rite of passage.
Pat
8/24/22
For the dVerse prompt where Jo is the host. The prompt words is Scent. To stop by to read or participate go here.
In mid tumble it swayed sideways. It looked like a butterfly, but there betrayal came in the landing. A falling yellow leaf is what it was. But, for a moment, it was pure joy to watch. At least I could see it. It’s better than chasing a memory that remains illusive. One that I still haven’t been able to bring into full focus.
Now, through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings..I listen closely. Along with the voice were melancholy strains from a horn played by the likes of Miles or Coletrane.
I should know this, I do know this. I close my eyes and surf the notes, willing and carefree. It’s laced with a hint of the blues. Maybe not remembering this title is a gift. Because I would just play it over, and over again, to what end?
Open Link LIVE #322 – August Edition
Pat
8/19/22
Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:—
–by Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr., from The Chambered Nautilus.
This line is to be incorporated into a piece of prose over at dVerse Poets Pub. The deadline to submit to the prompt has come and gone. But I’m now posting it to OLN ( open link night) To check out what’s going on over there go to the link above. A good weekend to all.
These conversations of ours
It feels like you are forever in my presence
moreso than when you walked the earth
So agreeable, and still with the jokes
Don’t you have somewhere else to be?
What type of grieving is this?
– these conversations of ours
Pat
8/08/2022
For dVerse Poets Pub where the host, De, gives the word Type to be used in a quadrille (a 44 word poem created at dVerse). To participate or just read, go here
thoughts and entanglements 
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