Tag: dVerse

Nachiketa’s Dream – 10th November 2025

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ 23 Comments

The boy,
too curious,
gets sent from the room.

Confused,
he wanders the wheat fields,
letting the sun in.

Lulled to sleep
with his thoughts,
many questions
float along the river.

He is walking
towards his grandfather.

“On reading, ‘you’ no longer exist

The cock crows

Energy transformed holds no fear
of the temporary canvas

The art of ‘you’ imprinted
on the fabric of reality

Belonging to consciousness
inseparable

Recognise there’s no escape

Seeing through the mirage
finding ‘you’ have always been free….”

Inspired after coming across this post by Shubham Upman
28th Jan 2026 – shared with dVerse Poetics – dream interpretation

Carving – 6th November 2025

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ 16 Comments

the shaper of my own world
from imagination
both triumphs and failures arise

reflections in quiet glass
the storm and calm
of my hands

eyes are open
viewing the rain
from here, inside

the thought
that changed the scene
all upside down
from the devil’s intention

light split
through the prisms
of truth
i see

if the building breaks
i’ll start with new bricks
the carving is the conversation

Shared with dVerse Poetics – craft and how we shape our own realities

Mise en Abyme – 2nd November 2025

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ 16 Comments

*The old librarian still searches for
himself among the shelves. Glasses half-cocked,
hanging on to his nose, rubbing eyes, sore
from a thousand years of dust, sunlight blocked,
but his thirst for knowledge cannot be stopped.
Owlish and wizened with yellowy skin,
slowly but surely, the light will seep in
and he’ll remain his days meditating
on the fact he’s just about to begin
the journey for which he has been waiting.

Shared with dVerse: dizain.
*I had noted down this first sentence from Björn’s poem ‘The Past at Present’ last month, thinking that I would use this idea for something new. Having then forgotten about it until today, I ended up using it word for word to launch this particular write.

Some Surrender – 19th October 2025

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ 17 Comments

The both of me are struggling inside

One wants to just enjoy the ride

A hedonist with parties to attend

A firestorm with fuel to spend

Better to burn out than fade away?

So, tonight is the time to play

…Tomorrow, I’ll write down everything…

The both of me, struggling to get out

The anxious side, processing doubt

Every word needs to be remembered
So that some time must be surrendered

If all this savouring gets rephrased

Will it be somehow falsely praised?

Did it really happen as we say?

The feeling is that it must be done today…

…Tomorrow, I’ll write down everything…

The both of me are struggling to win
A desperate balance being fought within
This happiness must be documented

Not pass by forgotten and lamented
So tonight I’ll simply sigh and say
That if it cannot be done today

…Tomorrow, I’ll write down everything…

Shared with W3 #181 – a bop poem. This poem was inspired by this week’s dVerse prompt, using a line from a Günter Grass poem as a refrain. I saw this line, “…Tomorrow, I’ll write down everything…” used in the poem ‘Tomorrow’ and along with the word ‘bop’, this reminded me (again!) of the dilemma Jack Kerouac would face when having fun with his friends but wanting to rush home to write it down before it got forgotten to the mists of time. I see that I have written this poem before, too! Perhaps this is part two?
In the first stanza, I reference Firestorm, a DC comic character that at one time was two different people inside one body, often struggling with decisions. This came to mind as I had been reading it last night.

Ice Age – 18th October 2025

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ 23 Comments

Shared with dVerse MTB quatern and utilising the phrase ‘what happens when the river stops‘ taken from Günter Grass’s ‘What I write about’.

What happens when the river stops
flowing towards its final form,
to meet dissolution, consumed
in a roiling ghost of gestalt?

Gathering stagnation – is that
what happens when the river stops?
Dammed many times along the way,
it aches to carve a deeper chart;

Breath seeping into the soft soils,
probing for any solve to see
what happens. When the river stops,
frozen skin, a trick of the light,

conceals the hand of destiny
on swirling tides of history.
I find I do not want to know
what happens when the river stops.

Ride Of The Dullahan – 16th October 2025

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ 19 Comments
image source

Shared with dVerse Poetics – headless horseman. I learned a little about Irish folklore while writing this.

in search of final harvests
on a stallion carved of midnight,
its four falling anvils
spark cold dread from cobblestones

his lantern grins with soft decay
the texture of mouldy cheese
the pallor of the moon
that stains a long-forgotten tomb

twin gateways pierce all things hidden
compelling every secret to be shed
unlocking all that’s tethered by a name

hold your golden pins tight

October Again – 9th October 2025

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ 20 Comments

You keep on coming back for more
Every year, the change is the same
I shouldn’t be keeping the score
There are no winners, it’s no game

Every time you keep coming back
Has started meaning less and less
And as my skin begins to slack
I’ve stopped caring, I must confess

I’m still wishing for more returns
Even if they’re filled with dread
To just keep on is what one learns
Cos it’s better than being dead

Shared with dVerse – Poetics: October

Safe Word – 3rd October 2025

~ shaun tenzenmen ~ 7 Comments

Cheekily shared with dVerse – Tuesday Poetics. Always considering a different angle on a prompt, my mind took me to a place that I’ve only heard about (honest, guv!), guided by the Cambridge Dictionary entry for ‘paddle’, which gave me ‘We provide a variety of toys, such as floggers, paddles, cuffs, and ropes.’ I didn’t really get a ‘song’ into the poem but the sounds are clear and obvious.

We provide a variety of toys,
for adventurous girls and boys;

Whack! Whack! 


A sharp crack

lands across a welcoming back.




With floggers and paddles,

over the sub the mistress straddles;

Zzip! Zzip!


A consenting courtship

at the whims of her loving whip.





A kink of ropes, clips and cuffs,
or a silken bondage tied with trust;

Squeal! Squeal!


The trussed and bound reveal

the boundaries of this fetishistic deal.



Blindfolded and restrained,

the traditional roles clearly reframed;


Swish! Swish!


A safe word so devilish,

“No sex, please, we’re English!”