The Versesmith

  dVerse OpenLinkNight #419 Welcome to OpenLinkNight everyone. As you know, this is your opportunity to link 1 poem of your choice as this is no prompt-day. Here's something I've had hanging around unposted for a while from a postcard poetry prompt.  Memories of elementary school!   Postcard of  Gymnasts , by Bożena Grzyb-Jarodzka Did you have a playground with bars and rings? Did the popular girls do it better than anyone else, skipping two rings at a time, back and forth, no effort at all? Rubbing tan-bark dust onto their palms like chalk on a gymnast’s, those girls wore their blisters like badges. Did you have a playground like that? Were you one of the popular girls, destined to bear the pompoms and date the quarterback, your path set by age eight?

dVerse Quadrille #259: Sing It!   Pen us a poem of precisely 44 words (not counting the title), including some literal form of the word SING.  detail of Pear and Crows in author's collection  Summer’s melody has ended, the cicadas song is done, the crickets silent once again. No birdsong, only cawing of the crows, massed as one in the crab-apple tree. Startled, they rise. I pick up a feather, glossy black, to add it to my collection. ©2026   Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved  

 dVerse: A Haunting  Choose any of the three paintings and compose a poem of 31 lines or fewer. What misfortunes do the artworks stir in you, the viewer? I chose Rain Woman , by Svetlana Telets.  What misfortunes does the artwork stir in me?  Reading the artist is from Ukraine, I think that should be obvious.   Svetlana Telets, Rain Woman (1996) I stand on the street corner, stunned. R ivulets of rain spill over the brim of my hat, run down my neck. Shall we be abandoned to yet another bleak winter? I am chilled. Allies have turned their backs. Yes, I am chilled, yet, I am not surprised.  ©2026 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved  

dVerse - MTB: Imagism in 5 The Cadralor Not a form I am familiar with, the Cadralor is an invented form named for its inventors, Lori Howe and Christopher Cadra.  * 5 numbered stanzas * choose 3-10 lines per stanza (but keep same chosen stanza length throughout) * each stanza stands alone as an imagist poem (just the obliquest of connections) * 5th stanza pulls the 4 unrelated stanzas together into a poem of love, of yearning * rhymes and syllabic meter are NOT wanted I I don’t go to the far back of my yard anymore. I t’s dead; the grass, onions, parsley, gone. I let it die; its prior beauty gone, now crunchy underfoot, II T he wind blew over the fence, such as it was. I left it there, nothing to fence in, or out, except the persistent raccoons that straddle the top boards at dawn . III G eese honk overhead on their way south, the stragglers louder as they strive to catch up to the lopsided Vs of their fellow migrants. IV Autumn leaves drift down, carpet ing...

Quadrille #256 – Ho-hum, it’s time to Poem Ho-hum, it’s time to poem! Pen us a poem of precisely 44 words (not counting the title), literally including some form of the word hum. Summer prepares to cede the stage, as Autumn a waits in the wings. H er pallet drip s with color, russet, gold, or crimson. The buzzing of the bee has ended, along with cicada’s rythmic whirr . The Hummingbird will flit among the morning glories, one last day. ©2026 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved  

 Poets and Storytellers United  Friday Writings #244 : If the Glass Slipper Fits For this week's optional prompt I'd like you to write something from the point of view of a fairy tale character. image Oma made me a coat of red wool. With a hood. She said it was for her “little Mäuschen.”  She called it a riding coat, yet I don't have a pony. I sure would like a pony though. Papa says “No, meine Schatzchen, no pony.” I tried to convince him my pastry deliveries would be ever so much quicker on ponyback, but no. It’s not fair. Papa says kinder always say things aren’t fair and to “ Live with it .” As for my coat? Oma doesn’t know me at all. I hate hoods. Wool makes me itch. And I don’t even like red. I hope I outgrow it soon.  ©2026   Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved