**dVERSE Announcement**REMINDER! Two chances to join OLN LIVE this month!Thursday, March 16, from 3 to 4 PM ESTAND Saturday, March 18, from 10 to 11 AM EST.You may still link one poem as usual for OLN (Open Link Night) even if you do not attend a live session. I've been attending the Saturday sessions and… Continue reading “Namaste,” Prosery
Various tax forms litter my desk in neat piles. It's my least favorite time of year—tax season. Every year, the forms change. My eyes are weary and my head is numb. It's been a Monday. I'm finished with this day. Outside my window, night settles. half-moon smiles velvet streets blossom in shadows © Colleen M.… Continue reading Tax Season Blues, haibun
his kiss upon my lips a hunger stirs my soul, heat rises, passions flare, desire so sweet... complete— until another kiss finds me and takes my breath away forever yours this kiss... © Colleen M. Chesebro Kim is over at dVerse for Poetics: Prelude to a Kiss, asking us to write about a kiss. This… Continue reading His Kiss
The Songs of the Seasons Winter calls out with blustery winds broken by the silence of pure cold Spring arrives with bird song sweet echoes chanted on the wing Summer comes with the chirping of crickets slumber songs sung Autumn sings dirges as frost-crisped leaves drop from the trees © Colleen M. Chesebro Linda Lee… Continue reading Quadrille #170: Music is My Refuge
Photo by Jovana Nesic on Pexels.com sun on snow— a diamond ring on my finger the scent of roses just before dawn in the bridal suite a red rose— his word of farewell brings relief © Colleen M. Chesebro Sanaa from dVerse asks us to write some love poetry... Happy Valentine's Day... or not!
It seems I only ruminate over you in the darkness after I’ve awakened from an unsettling slumber. I’m never sure if what I’ve experienced is a dream or a nightmare. But one thing is for sure. You belong to the night, tucked away inside the part of me that lives in my memories from long… Continue reading Old Memories, Prosery
The first thing I remember is snuggling in my grandmother's arms. She always smelled like apple kuchen. When the dark dreams threatened, she was always there. Gram, a Swedish immigrant who married a Russian/German immigrant, set out to farm the great dust bowl of Kansas. My gramps wasn't a farmer, but bootlegging liquor called his… Continue reading Dedicated to Gram, tanka prose
pale winter sky, the color of turned milk an unfriendly wind skims across the pond cold as a whisper, caressing my icy cheeks the streetlamps aren’t on, but shadows creep coldness descends frosting the street conscious dreams create my reality end of day succeeds © Colleen M. Chesebro A quadrille for dVerse, a day late.
Dawn breaks—bold, golden light an explosion of color against a winter-blue sky When was the last time I felt sunshine on my face? Bright light streaks the heavens, pink glow birds circle from lofty heights While I gaze up in awe from below © Colleen M. Chesebro Photo by Rahul Pandit on Pexels.com For dVerse,… Continue reading Dawn Breaks
Photo by Gelatin on Pexels.com I was never there, you know just a ghost in the Burbs, a falling star in the sky of this America life. I exist where time flows with a legacy of speed ever moving forward, never backwards, mirroring the sunrise and sunset— as the darkness falls. Not Lost, found. ©… Continue reading A Ghost in the Burbs, Poetics
Colleen M. Chesebro 