Sounds of Silence

dverse Haibun Monday — Silent Sounds — Posted by Frank Hubeny

In the void
the flash of lightening
the grumble of thunder
your anger
and the rumble of words
a toddler’s fall
and a wail of hurt
the world is silent
in anticipation.

Those moments when your heart skips a beat as you wait… for the shoe to drop, for the car to crash, the egg to smash as it fumbles from your fingers. In your mind you hear “no, No, NO” loud, ringing, echoing, like a scream in a Hitchcock movie. Perception of time slows down before normal reigns once again. You breathe and life resumes.

Between lightning and thunder
time ceases to be.
A glimpse of eternity?


Frank said: “Anyway, the theme for this Haibun Monday is anything to do with this internal chatter, what I call silent sounds, used however you are motivated to use it. The form to use is a haibun–prose that contains somewhere within it a haiku.”

So I did a little something different.



imaginarygarden Weekend Mini Challenge: Insects and Bugs

with Kim from Writing in North Norfolk


You hide in the bushes
pretend you’re a leaf
rubbing your wings together
may be a relief
for an itch, I don’t know,
but I do know
come July you’ll sit
and you’ll scratch pistachio
green wings and sing Katydid.
Did what? I question your obsession
for there’s never a confession
forthcoming.  Still I can hardly wait
(though it irritates not to know)
to hear katydid from you and your beau.


Velvet Constraints

dverse Contrapuntal Poetry Posted by paul scribbles

Contrapuntal music is composed of multiple melodies that are relatively independent that are sounded together. In the poetic world, contrapuntal poems are poems that intertwine two (or more) separate poems into a single composition.


The stones lie still                      In this barren dream
perhaps a little deeper              deep in my unconsciousness
on the hillsides cushioned        against my long term memory
in the pale moss.                        of a short attention span

I am like the rocks                     I wander not. My legs restless
in their rootless rest                  longing to run from memories
embedded in the hills and        in the valleys of my frontal lobe
held by soft restrains.                as I scream silently for release.


Not Human Nor Pixie is She

dverse    MTB — Bridging the Gap  Posted by Gospel Isosceles

Select two quotes from two different books, could be poetry, prose, technical, non-fiction, anything. You decide whether you want them recklessly random (as in the above scenario) or slightly/significantly more intentional. Then, construct a poem using one quote as the opening line and the other as the closing line.

She’s a firefly, Sasha. A pinwheel.
Light and movement
Grace and frenzy

She giggles at moonbeams
and pouts at the rain
ancient and modern
foolish and wise

She’s bonny and funny
moody, fey, a wild bouquet.

She twirls like a dervish
within the fairy ring,
Circles within circles.

First line from “Eldest” by Christopher Paolini
Last line from “A Gentleman in Moscow” by Amor Towles



mindlovemisery Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille, March 28th 2018 Easter
Next weekend we will celebrate Easter. I think you all know what Easter means, but this week I love to challenge you to create a haibun or haiku in which you share your thoughts and ideas about Easter. No rules this time.
So this week the theme is Easter …


Easter morn. Sunrise service. The sky blushes red at the remembrance of that day long ago. One man’s love and sacrifice a promise to all. Death thought it had won but itself was defeated forever. Out of a dark and dreary place God’s son arose and every spring royal purple bursts forth from the deep, a vow that repeats His glory.

Purple crocus blooms
burst forth from earth and deep sleep
augured renaissance


Night Shades

imaginarygarden  Curtain Falls  Imagined By Sanaa Rizvi

“…and the very folds of the curtains contained secrets and sighs.” -Anais Ni


Night fell
like shades being pulled down
like blinds closing
like those rubbery curtains at hotels
blocking out the light
preserving privacy
hiding things in shadowy pall
muting sound
closing in
closing out
and I stand here
afraid to look out
afraid to look up
of hidden things.



Help Mine Unbelief

imaginaygarden  Imagined By Kerry O’Connor “The Poem as a One-Sided Conversation”

(I’ll be back Monday to read your poem. Right now I’m heading out to see my granddaughter for just the second time.)


They say you speak in a still small voice
in the raging whirlwind
in the midst of great pain
in the intricacies of creation
in the hum of the universe
in your written word…
some have said they have heard your voice
seen you face to face
conversed with you
and even argued with you.
But, I am Thomas
I want proof
but I’ve been fooled
by magicians before
and so all I can offer
is the want to want to believe.


St. Teresa of Avila: “Oh God, I don’t love you, I don’t even want to love you, but I want to want to love you!”



Dream Thief

Catrin Welz-Stein - German Surrealist Graphic Designer - Tutt'Art@ (24)
Catrin Welz-Stein

dverse  Inspired by Art! Posted by Lillian

Her mind was filled with duty things
home and hearth and job and chores
that she loved with every breath she took
and yet her heart was a fluttering bird
straining at a tug of stronger gravity

She closed her eyes and the sounds around
that lived in home and suburban scenes
were loud, demanding to be heard
but underneath a silvered chord
played soft like the fall of a snowflake

Not yet, not yet, she said with regret
I’ve much too much to do, but, she
promised herself somehow, someway
she’d learn to sing that song…
as the chord grew fainter and dimmed away


Image by artist Catrin Welz-Stein, featured at Catrin Welz-Stein
(THANK YOU Catrin Welz-Stein for allowing us to create poetry from your marvelous images!)


Images in Batik

dverse Quadrille #50 Posted by whimsygizmo “Today, I’d like you to murmur.”


Our days echo into the night
repeating in dreams
on crumbled Chambray.
Pictures flow upon this canopy
in silhouettes of deepening grey.

And shadows murmur
of deeds undone
and hopes as yet unmet,
of fears and tears and muddy
schemes in hard shiny jet.


*Jet is a hard, semi-precious stone formed by the fossilisation of wood. It may be either dark brown, with or without lighter brassy streaks or – and as far as we are concerned this is the significant characteristic – a deep glossy black.