Written for: The Twiglets #98 – “to criticize”
How can I criticize you,
let me count the ways.
Wait! My litany just grew,
and you simply don’t have enough days.
How long does it take to grow
a hide of rugged leather
against hurtful criticism?
Flexible leather would
be best, allowing you to bend
enough to listen, and perhaps
consider another point
of view. It could be enough
to accept, without agreeing,
and without anger or hurt.
Two storybook kids, Jack and Jill
toting pails would both climb up the hill
Jack said Jill was lazy
Jill called him pure crazy
To prove himself stronger, Jack worked ’til pails toppled and spilled.
Written for: Poetic Bloomings2 – Autumn PAD – Day 3
“This prompt sort of plays in with our first two prompts. A fire can combat the cold and could supply the smells of which we wrote. But what about fire? Write a beneficial or detrimental aspect of fire. It might be a forest fire, a bonfire, a fire in the hearth, even a fire in the hole if it fits within the parameters of our challenge. It’s good to ignite our collective muse and choose to let our words blaze.”
playing on the street
in front of
drop to the ground screaming–
prey of drive-by fire.
Written for: Poetic Bloomings2 – Autumn PAD – Day 2 – AROMA
Smell those chestnuts roasting on the fire,
crack and eat with apple cider.
Scent from oven–gingerbread,
and pumpkin pie spices
fill my head. and mums–
Written for: Carpe Diem #1517 – Hope (imagination) (Letter H)
seedling sprouts wings
earth has been barren too long
hope for new crops
Written for: Haiku Horizons – “flash”
before my eyes
window lights up glaring blue
flash of lightning
Written for: The Sunday Muse #25
I wanted to be
an autumn tree, for
what could be lovelier?
Drink me, the bottle
said, and you will forever
be an Autumn tree.
Now, lost on edge of vibant
forest, I cannot remember
how to get home. Alone here
with Autumn’s glory
surrounding me, I see
that I have no trunk; I am
not a tree, and my hair
is bloody red. Oh,
I hope I awaken soon
if indeed this is a dream.
Written for: The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #373
Words: charge, alter, forget, hit, revenge, cafe, will, weapon, between, act, sing, mood
Cold fingers of revenge hit
the cafe that morning. Storming
Will charged in weaving between
lattes and cappuccinos, his weapon
drawn. He was seeking an altercation
with the man who had single-handedly
stolen his girlfriend. After several
tense moments, mood in the cafe
lightened with the realization
that Will’s weapon was a water gun.
He pointed at his enemy, and sprayed
grape juice over the man and everyone
else at the table. It was
an unforgettable moment,
but you had to be there.
Written for: Poetic Bloomings2 – Autumnal PAD – Chapbook Exercise: COLD
“Write a “cold” poem in whatever that dictates to you. Cold temperatures, cold shoulder, cold opening … write your poems as you see fit and then chill!”
Ice Man cometh, so cold
his heartbeats sound
like icicles breaking. Lips
like blue ice floes. Frost
flows from his breath. Streets
freeze on impact with a touch
of his soles. Popular in Summer,
Ice Man’s talents take a hit
in Winter, except for ice skaters.
Written for: Poetic Bloomings2, InForm Poet – Elegy
“Today we re-visit the Elegy. An elegy is a song or poem of sorrow or mourning–often for someone who has died. But, since poets exercise our license, we can also write elegies for the ends of things: a life, a love affair, a great year or era, a sports season, camping trip, conversations, etc. In one of his songs, Paul McCartney wrote of “The End of the End”.
This “form” is more about content, since there is no specific pattern, scheme or meter. So write an Elegy to no end and give tribute or a proper send off.”
From the last thin stretch
of sand, we watched ocean water
retreat further and further.
Relentless ribbons of heat
rose and shimmered white. No
relief in sight. As we said
our farewells to beauty, life’s
necessities, and tolerable
temperatures, we knew the end
had come for us as well.
Written for: Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads – Weekend Mini-Challenge
Fussy Little Forms: Tritina (posted by Marian)
“Tritina is the more compact step-sister of sestina and villanelle, two forms that I (you?) find difficult! But somehow in this shorter version it seems manageable. Could be I’m wrong, but let’s try anyway. Tritina was invented by the American poet Marie Ponsot, who says about strict poetry forms:
“The forms create an almost bodily pleasure in the poet. What you’re doing is trying to discover. They are not restrictive. They pull things out of you. They help you remember.”
So the rules of tritina are as follows. It is a ten-line poem with three tercets and a final line, featuring three repeating, non-rhyming line-end words, like this:
The final line contains all 3 words as 1-2-3
On walking trail under a hot sun
a river otter waddles down the path.
Odd to see this sleek creature on pavement.
Bloated slugs stick to concrete pavement.
White streaks of light shimmer in the sun.
Two dogs, tongues lolling, want off path.
We head home at the end of the path.
Dog pads are burning on hot pavement.
Inside, we drank water, hope for setting sun.
Even a sun lover needs to find the path home when pavement sizzles.