Mind Games


I’m climbing steep grades
Gets steeper as I go up
No way to go down

Head off back of pillow…

My mind floated through
Struggles from the past // long gone
Woke to a new day

Glad dreams aren’t reality
Reruns seem real while asleep


Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today is Quadrille Monday once again and Mish, at d’Verse, asked us to use the word steep as a prompt. That got me dreaming and this poem evolved in my mind! A quadrille of exactly 44 words.
Join us at d’Verse: https://dversepoets.com

Black Crow Awakening

crow sillouite

Today I am attempting a Renga poem for Frank Tassone’s Haikai challenge. He asked us to write a Haikai poem of our choice that included crow’s first call. A Renga is usually more humorous in nature and often composed by two or more people each adding a verse. I hope I have done it justice!

Bad dreams awake me
Incessant cawing won’t stop
Outside my window

Black crow’s obnoxious racket
Creeps loudly through my pain(pane)

I lift the window
Yelling loudly at the crow
Crow ignores my fuss

I shout and bang on the pane
Breaking glass falls at my feet

My toe is bleeding
Frustration drowns out the pain
I reach for my gun

With shells in my hand I load
A bullet in the barrel

A loud gunshot fired
Black crow quickly flies away
My shot went awry

Hitting nothing but blue sky
Black crow flew back as I cried

On blood marked carpet
I tiptoed to the bathroom
Getting a band-aid

I wrapped up my toe tightly
Black crow perched laughing loudly


Print of crow: Bing/pintrest

Join us at: https://frankjtassone.com/2019/01/05/haikai-happenings-68-1-5-19-first-raven-crow-cryhatsugarasu-haiku-senryu-haibun-tanka-haiga-renga/


Old House

Monsters in My Sleep

Locked away

Creaking green monsters

Make noises

Dry hinges

Waking me out of my sleep

Frightening me to death


Eerie sounds

From behind chimney

Frightened boy

Hearing ghosts

Visions of creepy monsters

Screaming calls for mom


Woke from sleep

Wiping cheese from eyes

Comes to me

Assures me

There’s no such thing as monsters

Must be this old house


Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Amaya came up with a unique and interesting prompt for our d’Verse Poetry Pub.  She asked us to write a poem using the  Shadorma form which has six line stanzas and a syllable pattern of 3-5-3-3-7-5.  The concept is something that is elusive… perhaps paranormal… there but not there…something you cannot put your finger on. I chose to write about an experience of waking up at night, hearing creaking noises and imagining green ghosts in the walls, and calling for my mom.

Come join us at:  https://dversepoets.com/



Bad Dreams

Driving into the darkness

The fog closes in around me

I see nothing but pitch black

But I’m still moving

I look for a way to stop

Nothing seems to work

And I am still moving forward

Driving up the hill

The slope gets steeper and steeper

Two-Thirds of the way to the top

Cannot go any further

I stop stranded in mid-climb

Can’t turn around

Can’t back up

It is time for school to start

I am not in my classroom

All the students are there

I keep trying to find my way there

I never get there

I know I ‘m late in a panic

Can’t seem to find my way

What am I going to do

I wake up!!!

Head way back over my pillow

I’ve got to go to the bathroom

Nightmares go away

My heart is still beating wildly

Adrenalin still pumping