Category: Poetic Forms
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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…
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Quadrille #73
A Gathered Net And what if my brown-eyed wishes gathered into a fisherman’s net, into oil and greased twine and knot, and soused silver-finned fish big as a whitened loaf. Would all my wishes come home to roost, if my wishes were kisses, would I be loved. dVerse Quadrille #73
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for dVerse Quadrille #72
A Fall Skyward It is blowing out there in that field where rapeseed grew. The old oak laboured and fell, roots skyward. It snapped through icy power lines, and splashed like a whale on to the rain-steeped fallow soil. Today was hijacked by a weathercock spinning wild. dVerse Quadrille #72: Steep
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