Category: Poetic Forms
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30 August: 20 Pieces of a Poem
Piece #5: The One with a Person’s Name His name? Don’t think you’d find anyone who remembers that. People just called him Ida’s Youngest. His face, yes, everyone knew his face. Ida’s Youngest. God spit that boy out on a Tuesday, mistaking him for an olive pit. That’s what the priest told Ida, and that…
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A dVerse Soliloquy Stream of Consciousness
My-My-My My mum lived in a little blue houseat the top of a hill where lodgepole pinesleaned in the wind like a widow’s hump,and there was a creek, raged full when itrained, but the soil sucked it dry by July, (I’m being generous when I say “creek” –it was more like a drainage ditch), and…
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20 August: An American Sentence
I would rather be bored by myself than be bored with somebody else. Poetic form: An American Sentence. 17-syllables. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter. Photo by Sepp Rutz on Unsplash. ©Misky 2021
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Stream of Consciousness Saturday
This Week (a haibun) Monday. I change the tablecloth on Mondays. It’s the African one this week. I watched a woman weaving it. On wooden looms. Meadow green threads. Beetroot reds. Crow black. Crisscrossed fabric. Monday used to be laundry day. Not anymore. Retirement. Lockdown. The hamper takes forever to fill nowadays. There’s just the…
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dVerse Haibun for August
Against August heat that’s pinpricked into the brick wall, and wings warmed awake and brittle in the sun, bees work within the scent of lilac and lavender as the long days slide sideways. Last scents of summerA sharp edged breath in the treesLast bluing of sky Written for dVerse Poets, Haibun Monday “August”. Main photo is mine, published on Unsplash,…
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Stream of Consciousness Saturday
31 July 21: A Stream of Consciousness Haibun The bees are crazy on fermented honey, like happy little saints working their way to heaven, and there’s pink and white and green in this a mangle of flowers, a handful for granny’s vase, and in a few days they’ll wilt and drop across the table, lily…
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a dVerse Monotetra
A Storm Approaches Over sea and land, bleaching sky,Endless chase this wind from heaven.Harvest moon, a fever struck sty.Broke and driven. Broke and driven. Written for dVerse. A poetic form developed by Michael Walker: Monotetra. Stanza Structure: Line 1: 8 syllables; A1 Line 2: 8 syllables; A2 Line 3: 8 syllables; A3 Line 4: 4…
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dVerse Quadrille #132
Roll On After the icicles thawed,and damp left the basementthrough open windows,I remember wondering what happened to winter,I’ve no clear memories of it. Sometimes I’m like a stream,not knowing where I’ve come fromor where I’m going. I justroll on. Quadrille for dVerse Poets, including the word ‘stream‘. Photo by Fabrice Villard on Unsplash . Shared with #APoemADay on Twitter …
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Seventeen Syllables and Some Prose
The clipped wings of prayers still rise through the morning mist and falling raindrops. It is no effort to stay, rooted in the moon’s clatter, in this oily dusk, but when all parts of me are worn out, I’ll be freed to dissolve in the lipped waves of some spacious stream, gone from the green of…
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Saturday’s Stream of (un)Consciousness
My house has a red door. Not sure why I chose red, except that I like red. Nobody else around here does, it seems. Across the street, their front door is white. Next door’s is white. The other side is grey. Next to them is grey. There’s a blue one up the street. And a…
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