The Versesmith

Poets and Storytellers United Friday Writings: 182: Anger As (Healthy) Fuel  LA Burning 3 - edition 2/40 by Linda Lyke, in author's collection   My fury burns hot, leaving nothing but ash blown off by my searing breath. That is you, the ash, whisked away from my life, I’m all the better for it. ©2025 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved  

Poets and Storytellers United " ...as your prompt this week, I invite you to think of a piece of music which affects you emotionally  whenever you happen to hear it played – whether it warms your heart or brings back different reactions – and tell us what this particular piece has meant to you in your life." While the poem is pure fiction, I often think of old friends preserved in faded photos.  What became of them?  Do they wonder about me too?  The inspiring song lyrics are below.  (The term abstraction came from an unused NaPoWriMo prompt to use an art term in a poem.) ©Win Smith 1962, in author's collection She said she lived her life in abstraction, drew pleasure in exaggeration, in the distorted way she viewed us, squinting her eyes in appraisal. She thought herself another Miro, speaking Catalan to her friends. Once at a party she tossed me out, I'd told her Joan was a man. That was so long ago. A faded photo is all that's left to remind me of her. So wa...

dVerse - Prosery Monday  - June 9, 2025 Greetings to All Poet Pubsters on this beautiful June day. Lisa here, serving up a Prosery prompt, goodies, and liquid refreshments. Prosery is where you write a prose story instead of a poem, using a given line of poetry (or song lyric) to inspire you. Word limit is 144 words, not including title, and the given line must be used without adding or taking away any words in between. Punctuation may be changed. To Hurt is to Steal - Bono and U2, from "Mysterious Ways" on Achtung Baby 144 words      You’ve hurt me once again.   This time will be the first I don’t forgive.        It’s nothing new, your hurting me, yet each pain is like a new stab to my heart.   That’s my fault.  I forget each time what you are capable of.  The cruelty, the lies, the laughter at my confusion.  Yet, why should I be confused?       I learned early on what you were like, wh...

  A Bañarse A Bañarse,   by   Juan Santiago Corbacho in author's collection I sit at the kitchen table, my computer sits with me. I raise my head and there you are, hanging out in the living room. Although surrounded by other places, other faces, you are my favorite. Who brought you here, so far from your native Argentina, to end up on a wall in Oregon? ©2025 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved  

  Ronovan Writes   Ovi Poetry Challenge #86: ENERGY is your inspiration  With energy to burn, no more, this growing old is quite a chore. When waking up my back is sore. Still, it's better than not waking!  How quickly years went slipping by, those limber years when I was spry.   To reverse the clock… would I try? I really do not think so.    I wouldn't want to live the pain, along with pleasure, ere again. The sunshine seasons, dismal rain, recollections best forgotten.  ©2025 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved  #poetryprompt #syllabicpoetry #ovi #ovipoetry #ovipoem #ronovanwrites

 I wrote a poem inspired by this Oaxaca postcard before deciding not to participate in a postcard poetry exchange.  Not to waste it, I've posted it here and on my other blog.  Two demons shooting the breeze, their work-week done. Sipping their lager carefree as you please, it’s their time for fun. ©2024 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved