I want to hold you

under a winking crescent moon
preparing for its cradled nap,

in the autumn’s cool wind
relaxing the warm summer trees,

after the birds quiet their songs,
cuing crickets’ soft summer drone,

before your next plane leaves
and my bed is empty again.

–by Sabio Lantz, May 31, 2018


Prompt: It is open link night at d’Verse Poets.  For the love of my life, a few days after her birthday.


Throwing Away Books

Throwing Away Books

My books squirmed to stay alive,
knowing they pain my tired eyes,
they demand too much concentration
and over burden my imagination
while videos easily fill my mind.

So I gathered the ones I will never reread
I tossed out much of my history.

by Sabio Lantz, April, 2018

Prompt: Lillian, at d’Verse Poets, asks us to write a quadrille (44-word poem) using some form of the word “gather”.

My Poetry

Stirring occasionally like a summer breeze
lucky to cool the sweat off the busy day,
my poems give me reprieve
sometimes moving my pen
but usually, are caught in the sail
of the boat down the pier
as it drifts out of sight.

Like an autumn wind
that tickles leaves
to whisper illusions of life in the bushes,
my poems give me voices
that say more
than I intended.

Winter snow piles blindingly white
like the poems I can not write,
while spring rains fall on my verses,
to quicken affinity or to drown in curses.

Other Poetry

A poem has no obligations,
no shoulds nor musts,
no need for rhyme nor style.

A poem demands no audience
and only needs to please
the writer.

But, ahhhh the poem written for the reader:
a poem that actually communicates,
a poem that seeks intentional relationship,
a poem worth remembering.

And woo the poem that is only read by obligation:
Private, patchy, vague and abstruse,
leaving each reader so puzzled
that they have to graciously struggle
for a positive comment.

Prompt: Paul at D’Verse poets ask us to write a poem expresses our aims for our poetry and/or our theories about other poetry.  So I have chosen to write about both. Mind you, this is personal, not general.  And as always, coveted comments are those that are critical, questioning and anything but perfunctory.

Zip Codes

Zip Codes

Savannah, Georgia
is what makes a circle round.
Keansburg, New Jersey
says “hELLO” upside down.

Springfield, Massachusetts
is unlucky in base two.
Carlesbad, California
is when I met you!

This zippity Quadrille
is certainly no more odd
than the city of Kerby
in Oregon.

–Sabio Lantz April 2018


Prompt: De, over at d’Verse, asks us to write a Quadrille using some version of the word “zip”. So I have playfully done so with this rhyming, esoteric math puzzle. In the comments, please join others to tell us any of the Zip Codes you can guess.  BTW, the “you” in the second stanza is for my sweetheart, so that one may be a bit difficult to guess.


How We Fool Ourselves

I thank Krishna for my parking spot
so close to the grocery store.

I thank Buddha for my daughter’s
safe fall from her horse.

I thank Jesus for my son’s
scholarship acceptances.

I thank Yahweh, for the rebound,
of my 401k.

I thank Allah, Zeus and Amida
for peace in the Middle East,
in Asia, and in Parkland Florida.

I thank all the gods
who control the world
for their personal
love of

I thank the universe for all her beauty,
and that everything happens for a reason,
and that all those reasons
center around


Prompt:  It is Open Link Night at d’Verse Poets.  The previous two poem challenges at d’Verse Poets dripped of religious spirituality: “Faith” and “Holy Places”. So I was inspired to write this tongue-in-cheek piece.

Eternal Amen!

Eternal Amen!

Beauty attenuates
and wonder fades
while sacred punctuates
and holy delays.

Better to spin,
myths, fables and lies
than live within,
what reality provides.

The rich and powerful,
aware of our trends,
spin all things masterful
to make our minds bend.

Thus blissfully we chase,
after sacred places and men
as pilgrims on a race,
for an eternal amen!

by Sabio Lantz, April, 2018

Prompt: Amaya, @ d’verse Poets, asks us to write about holy places.

A Vacation Memory

A Vacation Memory

Tahiti, a round green Pacific dot,
is roped by a coastal road
with an opal ocean to one side
and a flourishing forest on the other.

Rounding her continuous curves
in my tiny rented tourist car
I was enjoying the leisurely scenery
and the lulling scent of ocean air,

when suddenly, in front of my car
stretching across the narrow asphalt road
was a proud mother Tahitian duck
followed by her ten tiny trusting ducklings.

With nowhere to safely swerve
nor time to stop
I had no choice but to smash through
the innocent line of newborns.

Under my heavy wheels,
I felt and heard nothing.
Only through my rearview mirror
did I see the flat tiny duck.

Her siblings were marching by, one-by-one
looking down in surprise but waddling on
to keep up with their mother,
who never looked back.

Over time, I’ve wondered
how different was my decision from other juggernauts:
of industry, countries and armies;
of schools, gods and lovers.

— by Sabio Lantz, January 2018

Prompt:   True story, of course. Grace hosts Open Link Night @ dVerse Poets