The Versesmith

dVerse   MTB: Ubi Sunt and that Where, Oh Where?   And our MTB prompt today is simply to use this Ubi Sunt motif in your poetry as such: title your poem with the question – where are the/they… use the questioning within your poem, even with repetition DO NOT ANSWER it though – the questioning is rhetorical employ concepts of mortality, the transience of life, a sense of nostalgia ubi sunt is a term meaning "where are they??" taken from the Latin phrase "ubi sunt qui ante nos fuerunt," or "where are those who were before us?"   Where are the friends who promised forever? Who vowed a cradle to grave? Where are the sisters who pricked their thumbs? Who undying kinship gave? Have they forgotten those carefree days? Broken our childhood pact? Have they forgotten we were as one? Ignoring our solemn act? Where are the friends we used to know? Those we held so dear? Where are the ones on whose sides we stood? W...

 dVerse Prosery   Write a piece of flash fiction or other prose up of up to or exactly 144 words,  including the given line from this poem.  “ The future gathers in vine, bush, and tree: Persimmon, walnut, loquat, fig, and grape .” From the poem “ Time and the Garden ,” by Yvor Winters dead zinnias 144 words      It’s been a long summer, so long I’ve given up on the garden.      The Shasta daisies once tall and proud, now tall and brown, crisped by the August sun.  I’ve let the pluots drop to the ground.  I’ve no energy to haul out the ladder to pick the ones past my reach.  Keep my distance, out of sight is out of mind.        Did I say no energy?  Yes, that, plus I just don’t care anymore.  After illness a few springs ago the garden’s gone to seed, to weed, to pot, as it were.  Nothing was weeded that year.  Last year their seeds grew wild, too much for me to handle, this spri...

  Poets and Storytellers United Friday Writings #190   I went with the way the prompt was worded last Friday. So, it's not quite a summery spooky Summerween (which I have never heard ov) poem.  Just a scary summer thing.  " ...we’ll invite you to write poetry or prose inspired by Summerween (or scary things that happen in the summer). " Scary things that happen in the summer around here are wildfires. In recent years too many weeks of the summers have been spent indoors avoiding the smoke that fills the valley (there haven't been any this summer, knock on wood).  In 2020 Portland, OR had the worst air quality in the world due to the wildfires across the Pacific Northwest. The air quality in my city broke records for the worst air quality ever.   2020 was the most destructive wildfire season in Oregon on record. In early September, 2020, an arsonist (still unknown) started a fire that grew to destroy nearly 3,000 structures, leveling entire neighborhoo...

dVerse #229 Just pen us a poem of precisely 44 words, not counting the title, and using some form of the word jabber . image public domain Stop your jabbering, chattering drivel. When in public  you must speak civil.  You run off at the mouth, babble and yak. You sound like a duck the way you quack. You mummer and mutter all the day. Stop the yapping, you’ve nothing to say! ©2025 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved    #quadrille #dverse 

  Poets and Storytellers United Friday Writings #189: The Most Important Step "...for today’s optional prompt, I invite you to write poetry or prose which explores the same question: What’s the most important step a person can take? "   Perhaps the hardest step to take, yet the most important, is the first step away from a toxic relationship, be it romantic partner, family member, or employer. Those on the outside may find it easy to give the advice, “ Leave, just walk away .” Easy to say, hard to accomplish! But, once that first step is taken, the next steps become easier. Step away. Step away. I know it's harder to do than say. I was young once, and in your same shoes. I didn't step away and I'm paying my dues. Step away. Step away. I know it's harder to do than say. It's better now than in a few years, before there are children, who will add to those tears. Step away. Step away. I know it's harder to do than say. Take the first step. Hold onto my ha...

Poets and Storytellers United Friday Writings #188  Rather than the optional prompt, I've gone with a triolet .   The summer days are long this year. Our garden planted dry as bone. With scorching sun, the skies are clear. The summer days are long, this year I miss you more than last, my dear. I tend our garden all alone. The summer days are long, this year our garden planted dry as bone. ©2025 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved  

  dVerse #228   Write a quadrille and post it on your blog or website. Our inspirational word this week is " fish ."  She is fishing for complements once again. She baits her hook with clever words designed to flatter me. Once upon a time she reeled me in, a trophy catch. Now I gasp for freedom’s breath. If ever did you love me, throw me back! ©2025 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved  

  Poets and Storytellers United Friday Writings #187  "...write a poem of celebration, whether of a person, a thing, an event… Optional extra: do it in the form of a Sapphic ode." I got the syllables right, as for the meter?  I have no idea!  If not, it's a syllabic poem celebrating cooler days! ©2024 Lisa Smith Nelson I rejoice in the cooler days of autumn,  when faces lift to October's soothing breath. With dying light, the season's hush appease a summer weary soul. ©2025 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved   #syllabicpoetry #poetsandstorytellersunitied #sapphicode 

  Ronovan Writes Cinquain Poetry Prompt 10: TREASURE is your inspiration.   after too many days of scorching sun garden  withered wilted harvests wanting sweet rain  ©2025 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved   #ronovanwrites #cinquain #poetryprompt #syllabicpoetry  

dVerse's #227 The word we are writing to today is turn or a word that has turn in it. Pen us a poem of precisely 44 words (not counting the title), including some form of the word turn. image public domain 44 Words I imagine whispered voices down nameless alleys hurried steps on the cobblestones a shadowy figure seen over my shoulder billowing black cape rancid breath warm on my neck his mouth agape teeth wet with blood paralyzed I cannot turn is this terror or pleasure? ©2025 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved  

  Poets and Storytellers United Friday Writings #185 " ...find inspiration in the following quote: “Don’t be afraid to start over. This time you’re not starting from scratch, you’re starting from experience. ” You always make the same mistakes time and time again. Hoping your results will change,  they only bring you pain. You never learn your lesson or try a different route. Never do you pick the nice, you always choose the lout. You say you want to change your ways, you’ve learned from your mistakes. Then you see a handsome guy and fail to use your brakes. I can’t keep listening to you bemoan your dismal luck. While I see red flags flying high, you claim to be love-struck. I don't believe you ever tried to start again from scratch. I see a lazy user, you see quite the catch.  Experience is not your friend, although it is for most. You proudly introduce your beau, as though he’s worth the boast.  Please think it through the next time, before you jump in deep. That w...

  Friday Fictioneers   "The Challenge: Write a complete story in one hundred words of less." Mine worked itself into a story-poem. photo prompt © Roger Bultot 100 words Please don’t. I said, don’t ! Turn off the TV! You know the dog is afraid of boom-booms, why would you add more when there are enough outside right now! Look at him! It’s not funny. He’s shaking and drooling and won’t go outside to pee before bed. No, I won’t drag him out! I’ll clean up his accidents. You’re cruel. I wouldn’t force you to face your fears, and you understand what’s happening, he doesn’t. You are a jerk. I hate you. I really do. Yes, I love the dog more. Go, or I will. And, I’ll take the dog. ©2025 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved Only two things in this are true.  My dog, Mickey, is very afraid of fireworks, which are, unfortunately, legal (with exceptions, but people ignore that and bring the banned ones from out of state) in Oregon from June 23 through July 6.  He also will ...

Ronovan Writes  Cinquain Poetry Prompt 8: RELEASED is your inspiration. image " Slack bitch ." He's drunk again. Too long I've held my breath,  feigned sleep. This night I gain release,  break free. ©2025 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved   #cinquain #ronovanwrites #syllabicpoetry 

  Poets and Storytellers United Friday Writings #184: Let's Go Formal  "Your (optional) prompt this week is to write a limerick, a ballad, or a sonnet – or to write on the subject of formality without necessarily doing so in formal verse (or even any kind of verse). If you choose to write a sonnet, the particular kind is up to you (Shakespearian, Petrarchian, Clarian, Curtal, American ...) but please do let us know ." I have attempted to write a Shakespearean Sonnet.  This is actually my first sonnet attempt, so be gentle with the comments please!  Harvey , in author's collection  I'm surrounded by faces on the walls. They watch me go about my daily chores in the dining room, parlor, and the halls, reflected in glass above the drawers. The darkness of night obscures them from view, mere reprieve from their contemptuous glance. Safe again 'til daybreak's pale light breaks through to catch the last of midnight's eerie dance. By radiant ...

  Poets and Storytellers United Friday Writings #183 "...I'd like you to  write about a perfect afternoon, either one you've had or would like to have." Fort Bragg, CA hair windtangled salty and damp another day of fog cold wet sand between my toes clam shows at surf’s edge precarious steps over seaweeded rocks pools left behind by the tide sea anemones swaying hermit crabs scrabbling sea stars clinging jacket pockets full olive shells and sea glass to fill a jar on the window sill ©2025 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved  

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 

 Mindlovemisery's Menagerie   Sunday Confessionals: Dictionary print by © Jen Galaxy - in author's collection words on paper obsolete not to the artist inspiration flows divines limitless galaxies  ©2025 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved