Ronovan Writes SIJO Wednesday- Contentment-One Splendid Pursuit

There are:

  • Three Lines
  • 14-16 syllables per line
  • A total of 44-46 syllables for the entire poem.

One Splendid Pursuit

A pursuer of splendid new things is the precocious child.
Energy builds strong bones and joyfulness expands the soul.
All a frisky blitz toward the reward of tranquil contentment.

Tanka Tuesday Poetry Challenge-A Troiku- Aging in Full Color

The Troiku is a form created by Chèvrefeuille at
Start with a Haiku then create 3 more Haikus using each line from the original.

When did I grow old?
In a moment? A year?
Transcendence is life.

When did I grow old?
Bright colors in crisp Autumn
Focus my reward.

In a moment? A year?
Wholeness created new value
A crescendo sweet.

Transcendence is life.
Seasons promote refinement.
Growth requires time.

Haibun Monday-d’Verse Poets Pub- Sharing a Song

  • Write a haibun about a special moment in September and post it on your blog.
  • Click on Mr. Linky below to add your name and direct url to your work.
  • Add a link for dVerse on your page so others can find us as well.
  • Visit other poets on the list to read their poems and comment.
  • Visit our virtual pub and say hello.
  • Have fun!

The most memorable songs that I learned in grade school were about Autumn. I’ve taught my favorite ones to my granddaughters and just this last weekend, a cool breeze accompanied by the sound of migrating geese made us break into song.
“Autumn leaves falling and Autumn birds calling. Nippy cool weather for flying South together.
Leaves of warm orange and leaves of golden yellow, cover the hillsides with colors soft and mellow.”

I cannot find this 1960s children’s song anywhere on the internet. How delightful that I was able to pass it along!

Beyond September
Nature will hearten seedlings
Topped by tattered leaves

As an afterthought, I looked for an old video of my oldest granddaughter singing our song. I found it!
She was four in the video… just this month she just turned 17. Follow my Facebook link to hear it.

Six Sentence Story- Remnants

Rules of the hop:
Write 6 Sentences. No more. No less.
Use the current week’s prompt word.
Link the URL to your post via the blue “Click here to enter” button below.
Link is live Wednesday through Saturday night late!
Spread the word and put in a good one to your fellow writers.

Prompt word: remnant

Photo by Jonathan Borba on

Martha sat with her hands folded in her lap watching, who she was told were her great-grandchildren, chasing each other with a garden hose beyond the large window in her cozy room.

She’d overheard the word ‘fading’ used, in sentences containing her name, a lot lately.

Language had become a barrier in recent months, rather than her lifelong ‘poetic wings’, as common words oft eluded her grasp only frustrating and confusing her caregivers.

From somewhere a child squealed, and suddenly her lap contained an infant so familiar that she was filled with joy as she brought it to her breast and inhaled its aroma- her first born lie cooing in her, now youthful looking, arms until she heard her name.

“Martha? I heard you speaking to someone, are you alright?”

She nodded, and contentedly sighed, nourished for the day with a secret inner peace from another (of many) remnants that she was at a loss to describe to anyone.

It’s Six Sentence Story Thursday Link Up! – GirlieOnTheEdge’s Blog (

For other stories on this prompt, click the link below.

InLinkz – Linkups & Link Parties for Bloggers

Random Word Story # 20~My Giraffe

giraffe calf | out of reach
giraffe calf | out of reach (Photo credit: Adam Foster | Codefor) has a random word generator.

I have 6 words to incorporate into a short story.


Here is my story:

The worn out toy giraffe was losing stuffing at an alarming rate. Many of its seams had loosened from the wonder years of generous hugs. The local pigeons wasted no time in poking their beaks into the holes and extracting mouthfuls of fluff. Not being alive made moving out of the question for toys. So he sat silently on that park bench…resigned to the indignity of growing old and being forgotten.

Giraffe had once had a certificate of ownership, a purple t-shirt and a little straw hat.  Oh, in the beginning, he was a brilliant orange with embroidered brown patches. Now, his orange was all worn away and the brown patches faded. To the unfamiliar eyes of strangers, he resembled a dis-proportioned cheetah with the mange.

Toy giraffes very often “lose their heads” through the years. Their necks would flop over, unable to support their button-eyed cranium, then finally give up. Decapitation usually brought on the trash bag of nevermore,  even in the clingiest child’s toy box.

Giraffe had had a good stretch. He had been handed down from grandmother to great-grandson. Never was he called by any name but My Giraffe. It had a really good sound, though.

Giraffe had never sailed on the pond before. He captained the toy boat and its fleet yesterday. Sailing was a new activity since he was not water repellent. Usually, he’d served as the pillow for his boy’s neck while riding in the car. His boy had finally invited him along to the park to play and here it would end. The garbage bag of eternity was on its way for sure. Daylight was breaking as the garbage truck roared in the distance.

“TA DA!”

An elderly woman held him out for another one to see.

“I had one of these fellas when I was a kid. Finders keepers.”

The wooosh of air brakes announced the arrival of the garbage collectors. The women sat with the giraffe between them as they fed the pigeons day old donuts. One of them tossed the wrapper toward the bin. The  garbageman grimaced as he bent to pick it up and tote it away.

“How ’bout you ladies hand me the rest of that trash.” Then, he pointed to the toy.

With that , the woman who had first claimed giraffe, held him tightly to her bosom.

” Apparently, you are unable to judge what “is” and “is not” trash my good man. This fellow here is My Giraffe .”

Inside Out

Susan (age 4)


I’m still here

It’s the same me

From last year

I am older

yet I’m not

Just my outside

changed a lot

I still day-dream

I still fish

On the first star

make a wish

Smelling flowers

Christmas eve

telling stories


Can you hear me

Here I be

Still the same girl

Yes, it’s me.