Broadleaf Salute

Le Jardin de l’artiste à Giverny – Monet

do you remember snips of tissue –
pink bunnies and yellow chicks
sticky fingers layering air
while the cellophane ribbons were nests
holding the fledglings we couldn’t wait to eat
for their sweetness?
speckled eggs
in the garden, as the crocuses marry muscari
while the tulips flute a song as the daffodils
officiate; but summer transforms us
from saplings to swans, so the iris grow to wear beards
carrying crossed swords about their breasts
and we raise a tipple of gin for this broad leaf salute
as the light dapples the trees tipsy

— the sun is an otter rippling in his own reflections in the earth

© wildchild47 2023

for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday Ekphrastic Poetry Challenge #312 where the featured image is by Claude Monet. I’ve chosen FREE VERSE and a 17 SYALLABLE ONE-LINE HAIKU.


The Sweetness at the Top of the Sky

how can we navigate
if the moon has shifted
her weight to the unpredictable –

you’re too suspicious, too outgoing
and swollen to be anything
but a thief

— did she taste of vanilla blossoms
or bitter dandelion roots?

why did you leave nothing for me –

© wildchild47 2023

for d’Verse Quadrille #172 where Mish hosts and asks us to consider the word “shift” in our 44 word poems.


She is a semifreddo dessert, half-light
infesting my half-sleep —

did you enter my wound from another wound
like a dirty coffee cup stain on white porcelain

or did I snare you on my sharper edges
twin sister in the forest, with tree branches for arms

running without sound
in needles and thrush, song birds

like breath shapes in frosty air
dodging the kohl-eyed toadstools

you, bare-foot
I in skippered moss

scatting off into the darkness
with plum-jam sunset eyes

come morning
I shall know you
by the litter you have left
and by your bloody foot-prints.

Italicized lines are from Lola Ridge’s poem “Secrets”

© wildchild47 2023

inspired by Carrie’s The Sunday Muse #251. This week I chose to write a black-out and cento poem using “Secrets” by Lola Ridge.


In this big city, out beyond the reach,
on a charming boulevard, if only in your mind,
the gypsies overflow, swirling dervishes in red
and aubergine, their mini-cymbal fingers
tinkling chimes and talismans. And you,
so dashing, with your blue crushed-velvet eyes,
try to persuade, of love, as if forgiveness is
the yellow rotary-dial telephone on my night
table, as if I’m a nodding daffodil falling in
misty sighs, in your fable. But there are haulers
and hawkers, and peddlers in the market,
these ruined sailors whose spoils are now worth
pennies on the dollar, and for all your posturing
in county-fair costume, you wear emotional blackmail
like a portmanteau of cigarette ash and cheap wine.
And her kiss was a subway token in your scrubby hands,
scarecrow farmer’s son. Don’t ask why you didn’t see
my reflection in the bedroom mirror, because I’m a
Dream — a black cat fortune, a ruling runner
of back alleys and wharves, dealing in
silver and gold coins.

© wildchild47 2023

for Shay’s Word List Challenge: Randy Newman – where we choose words from the provided selection and write poetry. I chose the following:


Young Animal


and lime

moss push-push

what do we think we understand, meat puppets that we are, she asks under a midnight Arabica coffee bean sky

under-earth fingerling roots, whispering tendrils, chive chivvy
fungi in sparks and pulses, stewing in grainy soundless waves

above-earth starlings speak in murmurations and we only know what we see at the breaking point of earth-crust cleaved open –
this wound a birth canal

moss push-push

do you know snow’s properties, its chemical consonants in the mouth?
chant its mantras, naming its taste on your tongue;

to do so you must sniff the air like a wild dog, while remembering your wolf pack family from before, know the wind as a frilly slip of lingerie — a gambol in the field, a river running serpentine silver

hurry flurries pullulate
over particles of sand and gravel
transform winter’s iron fist
with a new twist and slamming of your gavel

alchemical is the process
sometimes named saltation
which sounds like a yoga-flow
sun salutation
— or perhaps
a cracker variety?

so what do you think, the meat puppet asks: what do we know of pith and bones, of curls and coils, of couplings, compounds and chemistry, other than what we see, believe to Be, in the birthing bed of a new season —



snow renders life in black and white but green tea dissolves a sugar cube

(17 syllables – One Line Haiku)

© wildchild47 2023

for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday Challenge #311: Synonyms Only. This week we must find synonyms for the words “spring” and “green.” I’ve delved into a variety of different words – using colours, changing tenses, finding some new and delicious treats – like pullulate and saltation. I’ve considered the changing of the seasons, how Time and Nature never rush; I’ve pulled ideas from different senses, like movement and taste, and I’ve been examining different landscapes and how the elements transform our world and consequently, us. I’ve gone with FREE VERSE and then 17 syllables – ONE LINE HAIKU.


abrupt evolutionary change; sudden large-scale mutation
the movement of hard particles such as sand over an uneven surface in a turbulent flow of air or water

the action of leaping or dancing.

early 17th century (in saltation (sense 3)): from Latin saltatio(n- ), from saltare ‘to dance’, frequentative of salire ‘to leap’


multiply or spread prolifically or rapidly
be full of or teeming with

early 17th century: from Latin pullulat- ‘sprouted’, from the verb pullulare, from pullulus, diminutive of pullus ‘young animal’.

Definitions from Oxford Languages

Want to learn some really interesting and cool things about the venerated ancient – moss – check out this article – and for all kinds of information about tea – varieties, grades, harvesting processes and growing locations, etc., you can stop in for a brew here.