No Danger to Visitors

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imaginarygarden FASHION ME YOUR WORDS ~ a query Imagined By
“Fashion me a poem, using not more than 100 words, in the style of Emily’s ‘Answer July’, have fun”

Answer Heart –
Where is the love
Where is the heat
Where is the stay

Ah, said the head-
Where is the reason
Where is the sight
Where is the judgement
Answer Thee – me

No- said emotion –
Show me the thrill
Show me the waves
Show me the exquisite pain

Quibbled the pain –
Where is it buried
Where does it hide
Where does it stay
Here – said the grave.







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There Still Be Dragons

imaginarygarden The Tuesday Platform Imagined By Marian
“Please link up a poem, old or new, and visit the offerings of our fellow writers.”

Image result for quotes about dragons

The following is Debi Swim’s unofficial addendum to “Eric and the small insect-book” a novel written by a Dutch author Godfried Bomans:

After I got over my shock of being suddenly small as an insect, I had many adventures and heard amazing stories and histories of the inhabitants of the meadow. One group of peoples I met were the beautiful winged flying creatures. They allowed me to sit with them and listen to an elder speak of their lore and history. The following is the very beginning of the beginning.

Deep in a cave there came the sound of sobbing. Odonata, the last living dragon in the world lay trembling in sorrow and fear. Sorrow that all the ones she loved were dead. Fear because she was next. The strong men of Galentia had closed off all exits to the cave and sent their best archers down the tunnel that led to Odonata.

She prayed that she would meet death with courage and grace. The god Leviathan took pity on her and spoke these words, “Because I have loved you, despite your cruel heart, I will not allow your reign to end. I will give you a gentle heart, break your teeth, and give you color and beauty that men would admire, rather than hate, you.”

The men came to the mouth of her lair. They expected a fiery death for themselves but they would kill her; they had vowed. But, instead, she rose to stand and bared her heart, her only vulnerable part. In death she would not exact revenge. The arrows all met their mark dead on. She collapsed with a hiss.

At Leviathan’s command, Odonata grew small, her wings and body iridescent, delicate, lovely. He gave her the ability to fly gracefully in six directions and to hover. And though he shortened her life span she and her offspring would live fully in the moment with joy and beauty. “Go forth,” he said, “Your name shall be Dragonfly.”

This was written in response to Fairy Tale Prompt MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for Chèvrefeuille


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The Ghost of October

imaginarygarden  October in the Chair  Imagined By Magaly Guerrero
“I invite you to turn October into a poem. Is your October a girl? Does he smile like a boy? Is October a feeling that kisses the back of your neck… and reminds you of your dead? What does October look like to you? Show me in poetry.”


The last of the cherry tomatoes drop
wrinkled and soft to the ground
a treasure trove for chipmunks
and other scurrying things. I frosted
the vines and wilted the flower heads,
scattering seeds of marigold upon
the waiting soil. I’ve sprinkled leaves
across the yard in gold and rust and orange
confetti. I’ve still so much to do to get ready
before the jack-o-lantern’s leering face
greets the trick or treaters. I’ve dressed
myself in taffeta rustling as I move
around the corners of the houses
with a whispery, windy boo.





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Swimming the Jet Stream

dverse Quadrille #18 Posted by
“Today, I want you to write a poem of exactly 44 words (not counting your title), including the word cloud.”


Image result for swimming in the clouds images
       Clifftonian Spirit on Pinterest -Google


There’s a swift wind blowing

fluffy clouds across the sky

herding them, urging them,

as eastward they fly.

I think it would be lovely,

a fantastical whim,

to swim that flow with them

dipping up and dipping down

high above to the starry rim.





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The Sanity of Solitude

adashofsunny Descent into the abyss of Solitude  prompt by Sanaa Rizvi

“I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude. We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among men than when we stay in our chambers.” – Henry David Thoreau


I used to play my music loud
the TV a storm cloud
festering from the den,
everywhere a din – anti-Zen
of clamor and cry, ruptured air,
explosions of sounds, a blare
of wear and tear on nerves
and ear drums…

Now I delight in a steady diet
of discreet… hum of energy an om
of modernity, flowing through the house.
The tinkle of chimes in a light breeze,
the chitter of a hummingbird,
the scuttle of clouds in the sky
just barely heard as they
swiftly pass by

I’m done with mingling
in stuffy rooms talking and talking
of inconsequential things
of politics and fashions,
heated opinions and passions,
I’d rather listen to the breeze
rustling tales in the trees
all whispery, hush-hush

I’ve let my world become quiet
now that I have grown old
for there’s wisdom in the gold
of silence.



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Renew Your Mind

dverse Razzle Dazzle Me! Posted by
So for today’s Poetics, I’m asking you to kick up your heels a bit with me! Give me the ole razzle dazzle! Sparkle me with a mood”


What sleight of hand turned green
to shades of autumn hue
then let them drop in bunches
at the slightest wind that blew?

What forethought made the oaks
yield the acorn for squirrel and deer
teach them where to curl up safely
when the first snows appear?

What imagination put the Dippers
pointing to Polaris in an inky sky
leading travelers northward
to freedom by and by

There is magic and majesty
everywhere you look
planning and provision
from some great ledger book

and season come and season go
and earth still turns on her axis
so midst all the negative is the good
you’ll find it with a little practice.


09sep14_430The Big Dipper was an important part of the Underground Railroad during the Civil War. Slaves escaping from the South were told to “follow the Drinking Gourd” to the North, according to the website The Constellations and Their Stars.


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Image result for mother nature blowing leaves

adashofsunny Crunching, Crinkling Autumn swirling in the Breeze by Sanaa Rizva


Autumn is a drunken, gluttonous, slattern

who takes a haphazard swipe

at the brittle, weathered leaves

and scatters them from her dirty apron

like crumbs before a tribe of Guinea hens.


Her broom licks the earth in a tipsy tiff

from horizon to horizon she sweeps

the fallen debris under the hearth rug

and satisfied with her household’s keep

lays herself down to troubled sleep.


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