Psalm for Times of Peace

You are quiet
Your voice I hear not
And in silence I suffer
Longing to hear you once again

O why do you keep your lips pressed closed
When I am drowning in the quiet
And a word from you would be
Breath in my lungs to sustain me?

It is not so much your reticence that
Has doomed me to suffer this disquieting quiet
But my own foolishness
For when you have spoken I have not been keen to listen
Release me from this hostile peace
And I will open my ears to hear


a free verse sonnet for dVerse


I wonder if you’d open up your door
if you already knew it was a ploy:
that he who knocks loves very little more
than doing things to break and to destroy?

for surely while your door is open wide
his henchmen use the moments that you stand
bewildered by the door to come inside
a window or the back door as they’d planned

or would you go and check your locks to see
that all your doors and windows are secure
and you would do all that you can to be
as safe as you can be, I’m pretty sure!

The Devil knocks to tempt each one to sin
why do we open up to let him in?


Based loosely on John 10:10

Condescending Worm – Part 2

how is it that you even dare to teach
to me of things that I already know
you speak of things that far exceed your reach
and think there is no need for you to grow

I do not need to hear you condescend
that’s why I crushed you down beneath my feet
and ground my heel so that you could not mend
the silence that I hear from you is sweet

I never deigned to teach to you of slime
there was no need to speak of what you knew
for that is where you spent all of your time
in sun, in rain, in snow, in sleet, in dew

oh condescending worm you are a bore
and so I’ll hear you speak to me no more


note: this poem might not be about a worm.


sharing with dVerse for OLN.

and in case you are wondering, yes, there was a Part 1 – posted about a year ago

Chapel Rice

At dVerse, today, the prompt is to write a Pop Sonnet. That is…take a pop song and re-write it as a sonnet. I’ll leave it to my readers to guess which song I used.


A lass doth gather rice from chapel floor
And vainly dreams of her own wedded bliss
Her face is false when she steps out her door
And all her strivings surely go amiss

A vicar scribbles words to speak to none
For there are naught who care to hear his speech
He mendeth clothing at the set of sun
What careth he when hope’s beyond his reach?

Within the church that poor lass met her death
and Vicar spake his words to none but she
Perhaps he thought that he had wasted breath
The only one who heard him preach was he

Why are there those who find they’re all alone
and might they ever hope to find a home?

A Multitude from far across the sea

A multitude from far across the sea
is begging to be lent a helping hand
and asking if we’ll share with them this land
They claim that from their nations they must flee

“They pose a risk, they’re not like you and me,
so send them back into their desert sand
for with them, won’t this country be less grand?”
is what the leader says with pompous glee

with thoughts that they are safe, a nation sleeps
while those who live in torment have to wait
not knowing if they’ll ever have a home
or if their fate is to forever roam
on earth, it seems, that none care of their fate
above, though, heaven trembles as God weeps


a Petrarchan Sonnet for the Daily Post. Prompt word today is tremble

Also sharing this with dVerse OLN

Miss Sophie

Miss Sophie’s favourite colour was the softest springtime green
she loved the scent of flowers and the sounds of marshland frogs
she stayed away from critters, though, like kittens and like dogs
because she had a hate for things that might be less than clean

So daily by the mirror she would primp and she would preen
she never went on dates because she thought that boys were hogs
instead she spent her time perusing cleaning tips on blogs
and thought herself more pretty even than a beauty queen

one day, though, as she combed her hair she noticed she was sad
and realized that the source of this was that she was so vain
“I really must go out,” she thought, “and get myself a bud”
and so she went to find a friend, and though she tried real bad
each one she tried to talk to simply moved across the lane
it turns out, though she was quite clean, she might as well be mud


at dVerse, today, Frank Hubeny has prompted us to write poems in common meter (metrically, this would sound like iambic heptameter, but not necessarily all on one line). Frank chose to write his poem as an unrhymed fourteener.  I chose to follow his lead on writing a fourteener, but thought that, just for fun, I would try to do so within the framework of a petrarchan sonnet rhyme scheme.

This is also a response to the Daily Post, where the theme word today is clean.

A Sonnet for the dVerse Quadrille Challenge. Yes. I *am* crazy.

it dawned on me
tis hard to write
when sonnets be
wound up this tight
you cannot fit
much more than three
words and a bit
per line although
you’re trying hard
you’ll surely know
you must discard

perhaps you’ll fail?
bemoan bewail!


Although I love the quadrille challenges at dVerse, it does make it very challenging to write such forms as the sonnet…unless, of course, you’re willing to use dimeter instead of pentameter  🙂