The Versesmith

Poets and Storytellers United  Friday Writings #214: Love, love, glorious love! detail of stone lithograph in author's collection, 1909 - K. C. Baking Powder - ©Jaques Mfg. Co., Chicago  White roses by moonlight. Butterflies in the hollyhocks. Scent of vanilla rising from my coffee. Roses dry as bone. Butterflies have flown. My coffee cold and bitter. Love-lost, I live in shadow. ©2026 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved   #poetsandstorytellersunited #fridaywritings #sevenling #lovelost 

dVerse's  Quadrille #241 : Swearing by all Flowers  Pen us a poem of precisely 44 words (not counting the title), including some form of the word flower. Dead Winter is not the time to view my flowers. An ugly wasteland of crumbled seed heads, rotting leaves. Dead Winter is not the time to view my flowers. Although, even now, I have last summer’s memory, and visions of the one to come. ©202 6 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved  

dVerse OpenLinkNight #400 "There is no specific form or theme required..." I saw the ravens again, waiting atop the lamp post, watchful as I walked past. A message to deliver, they attempt to catch my eye. It's best I acknowledge them. I write these words and wonder, do I trust myself enough? Heed a hunch? Believe a dream? The ravens' reappearance all the answer that I need. I'll leave them something shiny for their troubles. They journeyed far to strengthen me. ©2026 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved  

 Poets and Storytellers United  Friday Writings #209: Start Where You Are  ... take inspiration from this quote by Arthur Ashe, "Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can." At the moment starting and using and doing sounds like more that I am capable of.  Here's a sort of stream of consciousness, word association thing.   Starting out. A starting line. A line in the sand. Don’t cross the line. Wait here in line. Lines of latitude. Lines of longitude. Line up. Single file, don’t jostle, keep your hands to yourself. What do you have? Show me. Open your hands and let me see. You want me to guess? A coin? A rock? A lizard? No, a promise! Close your hands! Don’t drop it, promises are fragile, easily shattered. What can we do? Not much can be done. Time will tell. Time’s on our side. Time heals all wounds. No, that’s not right, not all of them. Some wounds never heal. We scar over them, pretend they aren’t there. Throw our hands in the air...

Poets and Storytellers United Friday Writings#208: Fireworks! "...be inspired by – Fireworks!" After a noisy New Year's Eve (and slightly less noisy New Year's Day night), and a very noisy morning (the dog cornered a raccoon in the yard), I couldn't help but appreciate the silent explosions of the dandelion.  I have written a  senryū. New Year's Eve too loud I prefer the quietude of dandelions ©202 6 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved   #poetsandstorytellersunited #fridaywritings #senryu #syllabicpoetry #dandelionpoetry #fireworks 

dVerse -  Open Link Night #396   You can link up one poem of your choice below or write to the optional mini prompt which we are offering today. Consider the opening line from Edna St Vincent Millay’s poem “Love is Not All.” source “Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink nor slumber nor a roof against the rain." I read her words, then lay the book, spine up on my lap, and wonder. No, “ love is not all …” I found it once. Lost it, and never found another. Yet I do not hunger nor thirst for love, nor lose sleep, alone in my bed. If I lay awake at night, it’s to hear the rain upon my roof. No, “ love is not all …” It’s merely a part of one sort of whole. Which leaves another sort of hole when it parts. ©20 25 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved