Two faint stars meet at the edge of night,
Sharing one moment in the hush of twilight.
They cannot contend with the rising Sun,
Nor ask the morning what they have begun.
So they shelter together beneath each other's umbrella,
Sharing a glance, a chance, to write their brief novella.
Pricklescoff sits at a Moses Toe
where two rivers meet
where two rivers flow
with one from his left
and one from his right
as he, a troll, sits at the point
where two rivers meet
on into the night
and see all the fish
stickleback, minnow
swim as he sits
at the Moses Toe
Based on the novella Where Two Rivers Meet, A Dark Romance Fantasy by Clive Culverhouse
Who's that goo
He knows these rules
Been part timed
An hesitant he won't forget
She's his worries
And hurt wisdom
Join with me
His excellence sees
Bring me frees
Poet trees
Some words spring
La la la
In his stead she wakes i bring
Cause everything
Cause winter won't rent for me
Climbing back words maths
Fast friends still say bye bye
Augustus
Pardon, Tia Jenna
Superior Novella pairing at the store lunch bench?
Bambi G rating Kev
Que Mas gratis audience of two
Mira's condolences on the loss of the new balcony
BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'S*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
While nibbling on French croissant so fine,
Audrey sipped coffee, feeling divine.
She struck a pose, twitched her chin,
The staff oohed, awed, gave a grin,
At bunny who dined with glamor and shine!
“Oh, daaaarlings,” she said with a flair,
“I’ll nibble on pink pearls, I swear!”
“I’m Holly Golightly,”
She said most contritely.
This dazzling bunny made Tiffany's rare!”
*"Breakfast at Tiffany's" is a 1961 romantic comedy film directed by Blake Edwards, starring Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly, a quirky socialite in New York City. The film is based on Truman Capote's novella and explores themes of love and identity. (Source: Wikipedia)
She was certainly the most beautiful woman I would ever see.
Not appearing to age at all, the young lady's name was Nefertiti.
As my guide, Nef gently took me by the hand.
I saw a beautiful town where anyone else would see just sand.
There were no children in the town, but the adults did not age.
This was a place where the book of time turned no page.
The redolence of orange groves permeated the desert air.
Residents went about their daily business without a care.
I have to return to this place where nobody has to die.
This is a huge task, but it is something I have to try.
based on the novella "Now and Forever, Somewhere a Band is Playing" by the late Ray Bradbury.
sea nymph falling prey
to harsh world realities
~ love overrated
Inspired by Ondine which is a play written in 1938 by French dramatist Jean Giraudoux, based on the 1811 novella Undine by the German Romantic Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué.
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
(To be sang to the tune of "Cruella DeVil"
from Disney's 101 Dalmatians)
Novella DeVil. Novella DeVil.
She writes to humour,
To move and to thrill.
She stirs her readers feelings
With her Quill.
Novella. Novella.
She stirs her readers feelings
With her Quill.
Novella. Novella DeVil.
On the surface
She is quite a shy one.
Yet, through her works
She reaches out to you.
You'll look into her eyes
And you will wonder why
She's worn a cloak called "Fear"
Her whole life through!
The time will arrive
When she'll realise
The cloak doesn't shield her
But it cramps her style.
She'll throw away her fear
And she will shine.
Novella. Novella Devine.
Novella DeVil. Novella DeVil.
She writes to humour,
To move and to thrill.
She stirs her readers feelings
With her Quill.
Novella. Novella DeVil.
Eyes move across her page,
I have read her before,
memorized her mind.
The book on her lap
is a tragedy.
Her lips move, as I approach,
as if she is reading a sudden thought.
Are we still writing a thriller,
or is this mutual recognition,
a romantic interlude,
a magnetic, moment,
an impulsive flame of truth,
that flares between the covers
of a fictional novel.
You stayed in your home
yet not alone, but with others,
and fate did mock at you
and you borrowed a different form.
They locked you in
and often hurt you,
and you fled from hurt
and came here.
First, we concerned;
second, we rebuked you;
and then we, too, hurt you
letting you live as a ghost
in a dark room.
We hated your presence,
and we banished you
to a different place,
seeking sheer relaxation.
One day, we heard of your
tragic death.
We built a gigantic sepulcher for you,
in our guilt-ridden memories.
But, now I remember you………………
Cockroach, Gregary Samsa,
If you lived “normal” in our fairy palace,
I know you would still live with us.
A 3rd Place in Catharsis Poetry Contest judged on Dec. 10, 2020.
Catharsis Poetry Poetry Contest
Silent One
Dec. 6, 2020
Inspiration form a Franz Kafka’s novella, The Metamorphosis
Some say you are lost
If you are not found
On their ground
Some think you are blind
If you do not find
What they find
I am an atheist who believes
The universe is a tapestry
Not a thread
The science to chart the stars
Is but a celestial church
That medicine and vaccines
Are answered prayers
That communities
Can save each other
That math and music
Language and learning
Rebuilding destruction
And regretting a wrong
Are inherent miracles
That to plant a tree
Water a garden
Kiss a scar
Soothe a bruise
Give a smile
Hug a sorrow
Cook a meal
Play a song
Clasp a hand
Bandage a cut
Wipe a tear
Hear a need -
Is divine
I believe the soul of nature
Is sacred
and a rainbow's refraction
Is all the more radiant
For the formula it contains
I believe the finitude of life
Makes a more precious day
And, to my friends of other faiths
I believe - we can meet halfway.
4/27/20
(this was inspired by a poem I read by Anil Deo called Any Athiests out there - thank you for your kind response to my novella-of-a-comment, Anil!)
To Dis a Ray
Tim felt prismatic and took off his polychrome Ray Bans
He had to revisit his novella and needed undistorted vision
To sort out gems from false gold and writer’s confusion
Had he really been so blinded with bands full of colour
Why were so few synonyms for variegations of rainbows
Was he too cheerful or flippant as an unredeemable scribe
The paper oozed with pots of gold and layers of colour
Chakras went up and down spines of meditation and joy
Jesters wore crowns and purple attire to rise from below
Clouds were made for the twilight of tranquil surrender
As he had to write all Peace in pastels on the fabric of hope
Was he really a utopian fantasist who shines through my pages
Repetitive maybe but the mist mixed with sunshine above
Droplets of kindness painted a picture of perfection’s illusion
He had to tweak it because even climbing roses had thorns
So many words in the canon and chorus of dreams and delight
Revising a story amounts will not hinder narration and license
Maybe he will just dis one ray from his tale and see how it goes
17th November 2019
~Once upon a rhyme, many years ago~
a charm of wordsmiths gathered on an emerald mountain
took dreamy strolls on piney paths along its golden crown
dipped their wits and winsome in a pastel-painted lake
while sun and shadow played a game of enchanted charades.
The moon unchained a spray of applauding stars
from the muses' hearts, the gemstones gently flowed
like a rush of songs from a bevy of meadowlark
Shakespeare's ghost stirring just beyond the glow.
All the while the old poetess listened quietly
her novella etched in the eyes and beech bark hands
seeing things the green sprigs would never see
her cane tapping stardust into an empty hourglass...
The coals slipping silently into quiet blush
as sonnets wove seamlessly upon a sable brush.
A ruby-throated angel fanning poetic vows
sealing us to our muse in a jaded stand of boughs...
We bid farewell and made promises we'd never keep.
Carving our weighted hearts into the shag bark of memory.
I'm bald and have piss-yellow teeth; don't use balm or whiteners to appear young again.
Every scar is a jagged path to a novella called living.
Cursed and blessed with a good heart,
Wild horse temperament that's bucked most riders off.
Loyal to the few who've stuck it out,
through all the ups and downs.
I could blow out of here at any time
, but for now everything's just fine.
I've crash-landed on a cay of calm.
Quite proud that I've made it this far.
More than halfway to a hell, oft mistaken as a star,
At times slipping into the murky waters of mundane,
Just another battered face rooting through a discount bin.
Always on the fringe of a spinning tassel of contentment.
Everywhere there are mounds of glitter glued to plastic bags.
Covering up the dry rot-I've no interest in any of that.
Shocking I can pull it together at a funeral, but not when I'm putting down a pet-
I want to be a whirling dust devil outside this hollow town.
Not inside the plastic masks of all the dead-hearted clowns.
Underneath the red umbrella,
my Johnny stole a kiss from me,
so I felt like Cinderella,
for like a handsome prince was he.
Despite the cold, I melted when
underneath the red umbrella,
Johnny gazed into my eyes; then
whispered softly, “You’re my bella.”
Oh, the kiss from that sweet fellah!
Although the rain kept falling down,
underneath the red umbrella,
deep love is what would make me drown.
Romance cut short – though filled with bliss -
just didn't fill a novella.
Yet I cannot forget that kiss
underneath the red umbrella.
Nov. 7, 2018 for Eve Roper's Red Umbrella Poetry Contest
the rapture of a souls song plays out inside the mind
as she sits quietly reading in a late fall moonlight
trading the falling leaves for the keys to the kingdom of pain
she scours the printed page for flaws to crow about in the dawn
but she fails to see the falling tears and the raging snowstorm
she feels but refuses to see
all our childhood dreams lined up as toy soldiers
on a battlefield of right and wrong
of love and despair
with one absent minded finger dancing in her hair
she fumbles for the meanings in the steady rain
she feels out the sentences written in summer skies
the novella there in between the covers are the story she reads
but its the long silence in the room between two people
that shapes her fate
writes her tears
the rapture of souls song plays out
with a beautiful melody
and such heartfelt lyrics
but no beautiful song lasts forever
anywhere but in the heart
and her song still plays for me
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