Written for: Poetic Bloomings2 – InForm Poet – Tanka
“In Japanese, tanka is often written in one straight line, but in English and other languages, we usually divide the lines into the five syllabic units: 5-7-5-7-7. Write TWO different poems: one Japanese style (one straight line), and in the second divide the lines.”
In the constant rain, sun specks
appear to taunt me, never staying out
long enough, but watering can
is full, plants are happy.
in light of full moon
the sky opens wide its arms
i can see each star
view seems closer on clear night
I imagine touching stars
Written for: dVerse Poets Pub – Poetry Form: Ghazal (posted by Gay Reiser Cannon)
Traditional Ghazal rules of form are very clear. The opening couplet is called a matla, which sets up the rhyme scheme (qaifa) and refrain (radif) by having it occur in both lines. Then this scheme occurs only in the second line of each succeeding couplet for at least five additional couplets and in practice as many as needed. To end the ghazal, the poet has a signature couplet, the (makhta) in which they mention their name or refer to themselves.
Couplets are usually complete sentences; internal caesuras are fine but not an enjambment.
Contemporary Ghazals explore more subjects, are experimental with the ‘what and where’ of rhymes and refrains and don’t have a formal signature couplet. However, they do keep to single line couplets, pay attention to cadence and are associational.
When my life feels like a spinning top
you know what I need is the ocean.
Roar of waves, ever dependable
as are flowing ripples of the ocean.
Takes little time for me to breathe easily
when I stand on sand and look at the ocean.
I follow footprints of landing seagulls
like hieroglyphics written at the ocean.
A mist of salty sea-scent sprays my face
I am refreshed and calmed by the ocean.
Written for: Wednesday Muse #9 (posted by Toni)
“I am making this short and sweet: write about an anniversary or several in one poem. Let’s try our best to make this true poetry instead of prose broken into lines. Fireblossom wrote a wonderful article about writing poetry and it woke me up a bit.”
Anniversaries are not always happy,
celebration of sadness does not take place.
In lieu of a cake, which would be tacky,
tears well up, old dragons need slaying.
Our world has changed since that black Tuesday
when buildings collapsed and death took charge.
We all had to learn to live a new way,
searching for loved ones, their faces in collage.
Funerals were held without a body,
and rescuers dug in blinding ash.
Now that truth of health toll is known, we agree,
death of responders grows each year that passes.
Politicians decided, let’s build bigger,
yet, still I see that gaping hole, and shiver.
Written for: Poets United Midweek Motif~Light (posted by Sumana)
Our words can create both darkness and light. For today stick to Light; whatever Light means to you. A compare and contrast will also do.
“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.”— Edith Wharton
Height of romance is candlelight
Faces are prisms in flickers,
a glowing warmth, smile of delight.
Height of romance is candlelight,
bewitching after midnight,
when every sound is a whisper.
Height of romance is candlelight
Faces are prisms in flickers.
Written for: Poetic Asides #481 – “Pick any writer, make him/her the title of your poem, and then write your poem.”
He knows where
the bodies are buried,
has a ticket to
the boneyard. When
the sacred gin mill
closes, it’s time to go
get sober–give it a shot–
if not, he will be walking
among the tombstones. One
drop of the hard stuff,
and Scudder is a goner. He
is trying, but you know,
everybody dies. He will
just beat the end of
a long line of dead men.
He knows where
the bodies are buried.
Written for: The Twiglets #127 – “knocked him down”
He put himself
on a pedestal–
they knocked him down
She did not know
that the School of Hard Knocks
a smoke-gray funnel
There once was a man on a diet
whose wife convinced him to try it
She said, isn’t this great
he is a perfect weight
Too slim, knocked down by Hurricane Wynn, he felt disquiet
Written for: Carpe Diem #1665 Tan Renga Challenge Month May 2019 (12) “special” Basho “Miscanthus bud”
“Welcome at a “special” episode of our Tan Renga Challenge Month May 2019. Today I have a few nice haiku by Matsuo Basho (1644-1694) for you to work with. You may choose a haiku to work with of you can use them all. Why is this episode “special”? Well I realised today that this year Basho’s birth and death are celebrated. He was born 325 years ago and died 375 years ago, so in my opinion this is “special”.”
another year is gone
a traveler’s shade on my head,
straw sandals at my feet © Basho
journey finds me back at home
stand in worn hat and sandals © Sara McNulty
now then, let’s go out
to enjoy the snow … until
I slip and fall! © Basho
covered in fresh snow up to
neck . . . like a giant snowman © Sara McNulty
Written for: dVerse Poets Pub – Quadrille #80 – “Eat The Rich” (posted by Kim)
We have expressions and sayings, such as ‘eat the rich’, ‘poor little rich girl/boy/kid’, ‘rich as Croesus’, ‘life’s rich tapestry’ and ‘strike it rich’, and songs about being rich, for example ‘If I Were a Rich Man’ from ‘Fiddler on the Roof, ‘Rich Girl’ by Hall and Oates, and Aerosmith’s ‘Eat the Rich’:
Pets enrich my life. They distract
me from strife, illness.
They fulfill this by
right into your eyes,
as if to say, ‘What can I do?
Petting me usually soothes.’
And, of course, when I stroke
their rich fur, we both purr.
Written for: Poetic Bloomings2 – Prompt #248 – The Result of April Showers
“Write a “flower” poem. It could be a particular flower, a favored bloom. It could be a flowering of a sort, not necessarily plant related. Make the flower your title and water and nurture your poem with your vision in words.
She grew from a seed
planted by two,
into a bloom that lit
up rooms when she
hair, wide wise eyes,
sensuous lips. She
sun-sparkled, silver dust
brushed off on all
the people she charmed–
young and old. But,
petals became damaged,
ravaged by darkness
of the mind. Life
was unkind. She could
not find her way out
of the maze. The bloom
withered; the flower died.
Written for: The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #404
Words: walking, soft, song, trials, heart, back, hope, booth, gate, cement, surprise, mercy
Trials of the heart
Once a soft song
of hope filled
the chambers, but
the gate open
back and forth
on delicate tissue
as if it were made
she feels the wisest
way to cope is to close
that ticket booth, no
more stubs of risk
to let her to believe
she is hearing