dVerse, Paul's Rhythm Journey, Quadrille

tons of sobs

electric fingertips channeling screeching soul

air magiced vibrato tugging the guts of it all

smoky vocal painting velvet strokes

snake hipped bass lines with funk to spare

a beat so far back it was the original rhythm

young gifted bluesmen breaking out

breaking Free


Posted for Quadrille #40 at dVerse

Notes: Formed in London in 1968 by vocalist Paul Rodgers, guitarist Paul Kossoff, bassist Andy Fraser and drummer Simon Kirke, the group signed with Island Records and released their debut album Tons of Sobs in 1969. At the time of their formation Rodgers and Kirk were 18, Kossoff 17 and Fraser just 15. One major musical disappointment in my life is that I was too young to see them burn their bright star before it was all over.

‘We were hell-bent on what we did. I didn’t care if I live or died, but for the band.’        Paul Rodgers



dVerse, Quadrille


ghost open fear’s still scars

shadow dance dawn’s dream


shimmering balloons rose

leaving echoed breath

to grin storms lulled


twist life ajar

spring free


flicker bliss’s whisper

to melt sound


spill breezes

cloud curled bubbles

spark skipping drizzle

cue giggles


pepper-salt journeys

Earthing green


Posted for the ‘All the words challenge’ for Quadrille #40 at dVerse

dVerse, Quadrille


Greetings, intrepid poets! De Jackson here, aka WhimsyGizmo. It’s Quadrille Monday (my favorite!), when we write a poem of exactly 44 words, including a provided word. Today, I want us to DREAM together.

Here is my version of  ‘The One With All The Words.’


dance dreams of dawning drizzle, flicker fear a(jar)

rose leaves open whispering shadows, shimmering still spring

echo’s ghost curls breath to spill sound, birthing storm sparks pepper

and we skip in journey’s bubble lull

melted green twists breez(y) cloud(s), giggle(ing) balloon cue’s

scarfaced grin

dVerse, Quadrille


It’s quadrille night at dVerse ,which for some, means an attempt at the one with all the words. Here’s mine.



journey rose




breath’s breeze on cue


spilled drizzle(d) scars

upon shadow’s

shimmering cloud melt


echoed dawn’s

open ghostly whisper


to dance and giggle


green leaves sprung

twist(ed) and curl(ed)


till we skip(ped)


stop grin(ning) you balloon


bubble(s) must now lull

themselves a(way)


dVerse, Paul's Rhythm Journey, Quadrille

konnakol (the sound of)

Tonight’s Quadrille challenge at dVerse offered by Victoria is to write a 44 word poem including the word Sound.

This is a poem built from phrases I learned during a Konnakol workshop.


that thom kitta tha’ka

daka dari kitta tha’ka

that thom kitta tha’ka


tha’ka juna thari kitta

thatta thikka kitta juna

tha’ka juna thari kitta


thom kitta that thom kitta tha’ka

thakka dari kitta tha’ka

thom kitta that thom kitta tha’ka

thakka dari kitta thom


Konnakol (also spelled Konokol, Konakkol) (Tamil: கொன்னக்கோல்) is the art of performing percussion syllables vocally in South Indian music, the Carnatic music (South Indian classical) performance art of vocal percussion. Konnakol is the spoken component of solkattu, which refers to a combination of konnakol syllables spoken while simultaneously counting the tala (meter) with the hand.[1]
The term ‘Indian Scat’ used in the video below is not correct but the performance is a fantastic example of Konnakol in action.
dVerse, Quadrille


Tonight’s Quadrille challenge at dVerse offered by Victoria is to write a 44 word poem including the word Sound.


whispers of wind


rustling trees


birdsong at dusk


rhythm of my footsteps

padding on the grass


frog jumps in pond


splashes in my consciousness


a ripple of thought

at the frequency of now


stillness falls over me


cloak of magic


feather light


nada brahma



In the beginning was sound, the word,  and the word was “God.” Yet we complicate the original meaning of the words – forgetting our root, deaf to the sound. Forget that the whole point of our “uni-verse” is to bring us towards the oneness.

My father said, “This sound [vibration of God] is the source of all manifestation….The knower of the mystery of sound knows the mystery of the whole universe.”  Who is not listening?

Nada Brahma, Nada Brahma – all the world is sound. And anything that vibrates reacts to vibrations. [Berendt] At times we put out a signal unaware of its unique imprint and shocked when it returns to us as a harsh reflection, sometimes misunderstood by all.

Sometimes we are on different frequencies, or have static in the atmosphere hindering our communication. Yet, we feel and want for the same things – oneness, connection, fulfillment, athomeness, joy, open arms and unconditional love.

What is the answer?  What is the question? To be free to be who we are and free enough to accept others the same way, no matter what the radar bounces back? Or to keep the same frequency back and forth, back and forth – even though boredom sets in, never changing the station?

Or to be quiet, communicate only through feelings, symbols, telepathy, negating the voice that was given us for expression?

As we forge our way through the brush and rock, swamp and smooth sailing in life, we can  feel some relief knowing we are perfect in our imperfection; for true perfection is static and dead.

Each of us is a note in the sound of God, singing our own song; sometimes in unison with others, sometimes solo. Joy, anger, fear, hurt, forgiveness, love, passion and compassion, expressing all the colors we are. Let’s not deny the god that we are.

And within this symphony, cacophany of sound, there is harmony, and one song emerges between us all.  And the song is God.

© 1998, 2002, Estelle Nora Harwit Amrani

Image source

dVerse, Quadrille

tir na nog

Every Quadrille prompt we offer a challenge to write ‘one with all the words’

This week the challenge is to use these 30 words in the 44 word poem.

dance, lull, bubble, grin, melt, shimmer, twist, skip, green, breeze, spill, rose, journey, jar, leaves, open, shadow, cloud, spark, cue, breath(e), scar, curl, whisper, dawn, ghost, giggle, spring, balloon, drizzle.


could you


ghost spill dawns rose curl(ed) bubble(s)

as some tiny balloon drizzle(d) clouds

from a jar of cool green breath(ed) shadow


would you


spark-dance a journey by lull(ing) shimmer(ed) melts

to skip open spring’s infectious giggling grin

and twist the breeze


will you