When I Ran Up Monet’s Hill

When I ran up Monet’s hill
a man in tights was up there
feeding his horse some hay.

We smiled at each other
and I continued along my way
to the Villa where pie awaited.

I had three slices with tea
in the conservatory with my
mother and seven sisters.

Later Chef brought us cigars
but we opted out and opened
a bottle of champagne each

then sat on the porch ’til well
after midnight eating chicken
and laughing the night away.

Yes, that’s what happened when I stepped into the above painting!

for dVerse Pietry and Poetry.  Week 43 Open Link Tuesday.

xooxoxxoxo

She Steps Back

she steps back

from the canvas

of her first verse

and finds it

pleasing in color

and jannie-sais-quoi.

(she forgets about the mind
and feels her way along the
corridor of chords and silk.)

she lays down

her brush, tosses

her songwriting

apron over

her guitar and

slips under

her pantry

door into the

Luxembourg

Gardens of

your smile.

a little something for dVerse Poetry’s Open Link Tuesday.

Sorry I’ve not been around to your blogs as I’d dearly hoped — but I think this week will be the week!!

I actually added in the your smile part here on Thursday, June 13th, 2014 about 12:26 a.m. Texas Time. Which actually makes it June 14th, early morning.

I forget what I had there before.

xoxoxooxoxoxooxoxooxoxoxoxo 

photo “grace a” Affordable Travel France.

One December

klimt was waiting inside my honda
the candy wrapper night you walked
me from your paint box to the stars,

yes the night your eyes caught fire
and melted to pots of butterscotch
that sank into my heart on wings.

But back to Klimt…

🙂

all the way home he kept pulling songs
and caramel pies from the secret lining
in the top of his old gold fishing hat,

lighting candles the color of sunset
and dabbing my hair with moonshine
he’d made himself from antique lace.

these days, drifting drunk on poems
and new violins, I hear the patter of
leaves breathing in this backyard,

the alto chatter of morning doves
planning baby showers and i wonder
if you’ve found your mountain yet.

a little something in maple fudge for all the wandering pub poets.

Oh… and edit: after 8 comments, forgot to say that’s Klimt’s “Tree Of Life” cropped. The whole painting is actually…

xoxoxooxo

Two Teeny Flying Bugs

two teeny flying bugs

are square dancing

on my laptop screen

here this afternoon.

The smaller gnat

must be the girl.

She’s quite the

jaunty jumper,

making sure to

keep her feet

always within

the pixels, like

a child avoiding

sidewalk cracks.

The male is off

my screen now

— gone to fetch

beer I imagine.

🙂

This is for The G-Man, fiction in 55 words.

square dance photo belongs to Jim Osborne, square dance caller.

Fluffy Butt

fluffy butt
thinks she
owns this
house and
everything
in it, and
truth be told
— she most
likely does.

~~ end of poem

Somebody cute has a new napping spot — atop the placemats in the dining room.

She woke in curiosity as I took these pics, but soon went back to slumber.

Happy dVerse Poetry Open Link Tuesday!

xoxooxox