Category: Poetic Forms
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Day 8
Found Poetry from source: “Flowers In The Attic” by VC Andrews (pg 19-25 iBook version). Life is water. It floated out the door, hardly audible. But death, that’s bleak. A dark. It’s haunted. It didn’t scream or whisper, but still, its mask froze. That day went on and on. Still.And hollow. for…
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Day 7
two poems for PA’s Writers’ Digest PAD, Day 7 “Jealous” I. Brief Because life is brief, I wake early, and then late to bed. No real dread or regret do I give time. Not like a sunflower’s surrender or winter’s blackened apples. Life is luminous, a tide with a degree of knee-jittering uncertainty, and I…
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Day 6
Found Poetry from source: “Flowers In The Attic” by VC Andrews (pg 18 iBook version). Momma was fairy-tale fresh. A pearly knotted glide. She was small. And intimate. I need another bath. And a splashy dress. Also viewable at Tumbr for PA’s Writers’ Digest PAD, Day 6 “After (blank)“ Afterwards After we…
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Day 4
for PA’s Writers’ Digest PAD, Day 4 Painter’s Name About Constable This man wrote letters to his wife, signed them with endless love. That same hand loaded brushes with darkest weather, and nature’s trouble, slashed canvas with angry wind and grey contempt. His heart was nature’s fabric. His hands bodiless as he folded pigment greens…
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Day 3
Found Poetry from source: “Flowers In The Attic” by VC Andrews (pg 12-13 iBook version). The Facts Behind Icicles Momma was cut-velvet breathless, all diamond icicles — wouldn’t live two years. I know that now. It was early May, and she didn’t want whining, or crying. It would displace me. for PA’s…
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for Twiglet 120
There’s eternity in waves, as constant as a clock that never stops. A Ginsberg’s American Sentence for Twiglet #120
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For Wednesday’s Muse
Japanese Poetry Forms for Wednesday’s Muse #1 she is the branch furthest away from me now. just an occasional reminder, like a wind-flicker or a scent or a fold she left behind just before the trees went bare. For Wednesday Muse #1 poem form: mono no aware (mo.no-ah.way.ray) 5 lines depicting sadness at the passing of…
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15 March 2019 – American Sentence
I’m up for a bit of turmoil, like feeding paper to a pen Poetic Form: Allen Ginsberg’s “American Sentence” 17-syllables
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for Red Wolf Poems #427
Too Easy, Far Gone Do you remember when we were breezy? We laughed like birdsong. Adieu, you said, like wind that slips through windows. Where is your breeze now? Too easy, far gone. Do you remember when we were harmony? A two-part chorus. Cold burns my ears. You still burn my heart. Do you remember…
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Twiglet #113 Constraints
Playing with Twiglet #113, the phrase “a pinch of fog”. Same Thing Four Ways A man’s eyeing my garbage bins, Gnats heavy around his head. He’s thinner than a pinch of fog. I’m trying not to be annoyed. I’m trying not to be annoyed. A man’s eyeing my garbage bins, He’s thinner than a pinch…
It's Still Life 