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