Good ideas never really come all at once.
Your lightbulb moment
is more like the switch on a kettle
pinging to off when the water finally comes
to a full boil.
The stillness can be mistaken for suddenness,
takes longer to steep.
The size six snake
three trees over,
slithered past here
The iguana on fern
saw her by the pool.
Think’s she looks better
in the water.
Told the croc by willow
he should swim on.
Big boys like him
stand no chance.
This is what happens when poets start commenting on other poet’s work. You end up down the rabbit hole with snakes, iguanas and crocodiles.
(It didn’t end well for the rabbit.)
To check out the writer who provided the inspiration for this quadrille, and then joined me in the madness, hop over to Jane Dougherty Writes. There you can find more of her work like the poem below:
resplendent in green and black beading,
striped vicious as a wasp,
terrifying as braided headdress,
twisted and entwined
with feathers and human teeth,
squirms and twitches and sloughs,
that this shrugged off apparel,
skin of skins,
must be how he looks.
Do chameleons ever forget
how to change?
Do they lose themselves
in the backdrops.
Forget skins on tree branches,
upon broad, flat leaves?
Where water pools in stills,
catching light like a trap.
Do they see themselves
or just the skin they wear
So I’ve just had a bit of surprise while scrolling through the wordpress reader! My poem ‘Until The Light Gets In‘ has been accepted and published on The Drabble. They did email me to let me know but I hadn’t check my email this afternoon and happened on my submission mostly by accident.
I do believe the dVerse Poets Pub Quadrille night is the perfect way to celebrate.
They told me you were hard to puzzle out,
a riddle wrapped in a conundrum.
Like an onion, I would have to peel back the layers
to find what you really were beneath.
your smile was so open,
I walked in uninvited.
I’ve kept all the pieces of you that I could find.
Stored them safely,
in a box somewhere hidden and warm,
until I can remember how the puzzle goes
and slot you back into yourself,
a little more fragile perhaps
but whole again.