At the entrance of the grave yard
the old willow stands its ground
whispy strands flailing in wind
Their flounce, still do abound
Negotiating and bargaining
With spirits’ wish to uncleave
Who will earn the early pass
to the stroll on All Hollow’s Eve?
For dVerse Poets Pub where the prompt
Is “Early”. A very Halloweeny quadrille, a 44 word poem.
Pop over. Do some reading and join in, here.
well clad vines loose
autumn blush – artful scrolls emerge;
on nature’s compass
Where the prompt words are Art & Compass. Pop over and join in😊😊
Mother Bea sits in her wooden rocking chair on the rickety varandah. She is placed there every morning. She does not walk. She must be over 80 years old. Even her kids were old. When you are little, everybody is old! I watch her as she watches the daily interactions of the children in the yard. She would make one word prouncements on the goings-on.
Cry baby. Smart. Determined. Thick skull. I often wondered how she arrived at these critiques from such a distance. And more often, just who she was talking about!
at times it’s futile
figuring out which spirit
whisper the loudest
in their attempts to guide me –
probably pointless, thick skull!
For Colleen’s Weekly Tanka Tuesday
Where the prompt is synonyms for :
Ghost & Hollow
I used : Spirit & Futile
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