Category: Poetic Forms
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AprPAD Day 17
It was shortly after I broke my bedroom window with a baseball, which by the way wasn’t my fault, my little sister threw like a girl and I swung a bat like a boy, and it wasn’t my fault that she didn’t catch the ball when I threw it back a tiny bit too…
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AprPAD Day 12.1 A Lament
It’s National Poetry Writing Month, which explains the surge in activity. I’m following three different sites generating daily prompts. Writers’ Digest Poetic Asides, the National Poetry Writing Month website (NaPoWriMo) and my old friend, Walt, over at Gnomes. All of these pieces are drafts. < p style=”text-align:justify;”>
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AprPAD Day 12 – A Haibun
12 April: The rain stopped about mid-morning. We jumped in the car for a drive. On a country road. On the South Downs near Beachy Head. Past the Jack and Jill windmills. Views straight toward France. The wind off the sea here strips the chalk hills bare, bald as a golf ball, except for…
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dVerse Quadrille #52
And There Was Room to Grow This is the portrait of a parka with a broken zip, with pockets deep enough to hold my hands, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and a bag of salt and vinegar crisps, and a red apple, and that was just in one pocket. for dVerse Quadrille…
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AprPAD Day 5.2 TLT & Gnomes
I. for: Three Line Thursday – Ink in Thirds her room is a girl’s blur of pinks and curls and furry slippers where the cat purrrfers to sleep and then I just kept going … II. for Gnomes, an Etheree poem her room is a girl’s blur, pinks and curls and furry slippers,…
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a dVerse Tanaga
(Untitled) These are stale days. Always grey and knotted. Nowadays, shadows shed colour; paler than air, blanker than paper. for dVerse: poetic form: Tanaga 7.7.7.7/aabb (untitled)
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Quadrille #53
Goodnight Sweet Girl I’ll tell you how on the night my aunt died, she was tucked tight and laid straight below crispy sheets, sheets white as her tight thin skin, and how her night nurse sat beside her bed, held her hand, as if fragile as eggshells. for dVerse’s Quadrille #53
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A Triolet for Gnomes
Bare Bone Cold The thought of being on that hill, in that wind as hard as marble … it’s such a thick and smitten chill, the thought of being on that hill. Fingers cold, nose so froze until my every word is ice and garble. The thought of being on that hill, in that wind…
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Twiglet #67
Three American Sentences All About Weather I. Stood on a muddy track, umbrella in hand. A moody slash of rain. II. Saw a sculpture. Looked like wizard fingers. Or a seahorse. Rain does that. III. You’re out on flattened water. Fishing. As rain slashes at my window. written for Twiglet #67 “Slash of Rain”
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Quadrille #52
Catching Stars It’s March just beyond the edge of rain-soaked snow. Beyond the fire of northern lights and imaginary sheets of singing smoke. I watched the stars that shot sideways, plotted maps to catch their washed-out blurs. Their light is my night — a deep ripeness. for dVerse Quadrille “Fire”
It's Still Life 