Draw of Lavender

Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 – InForm Poet~Quinzaine

“The English word quinzaine comes from the French word qunize, meaning fifteen. A quinzaine is an unrhymed verse of fifteen syllables.

These syllables are usually distributed among three lines:

seven syllables in the first line,
five in the second line,
and three in the third line (7/5/3).

The first line makes a statement.
The next two lines ask a question relating to that statement.”

Lavender fields thrive

Have you tried the oil?

Isn’t it calming?

https://poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com/

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Surroundings

Written for:  Imaginary  Gardens With Real Toads – April Poems – Day 19
Micro Poetry~”I am my own muse”  (posted by Kerry) (55 words)

“Do you have a recurring theme which continues to inspire you to write poetry?

“I am my own muse, the subject I know best.”
Frida Kahlo

A love of nature–
We are surrounded by beauty
that some take for granted.
Curiosity–
It is unfathomable to me
that people pre-judge others
they have not even met.
Why not become acquainted
before you taint someone?
We need to be interested
in different cultures.
As for guns, that’s a poem
for another day.

http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/

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Recuse Me

Written for:  Poetic Asides 2019 April PAD Challenge – Day 19
Write a license poem.

Jeff Sessions
Answered no questions
Had license to recuse himself
Went back to being Santa’s elf

https://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides

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Little Jingle Bells

Written for:  Poetic Asides 2019 April PAD Challenge – Day 18
“Take the phrase “Little (blank), replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then write your poem.”

Written for:  Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads – April Poems – Day 18
“Bits of Inspiration~Bell”
Allow the quote and images to bring poetry from you.  (posted by Susie)

“The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers”
~ Matsuo Basho

images-6.jpg

Wee bronze jingle bells
clear, crisp ting
merry sound on sleighs
warning in centuries past
Pagan use–to ward off ills

https://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides
http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/

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Poetry vs. Prose

Written for:  Poets United Midweek Motif~Writing Prose  (posted by Susan)
“Your challenge is to do one or more of these in a new poem:”

-describe prose vs. poetry
-use the prose element of dialogue fitting the character who speaks it (within your poem)
-praise prose to the utmost
-show us a prose writer at work

“A good sentence in prose should be like a good line in poetry, unchangeable, as rhythmic, as sonorous.” ― Gustave Flaubert

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ―Zora Neale Hurston

I find more freedom
and challenge in poetry.
Line breaks where
I want them, enjambment,
and what I call verse instead of
sentences. Well written prose
has its imagery, metaphors,
and similes, but in paragraphs
of longer sentences. Poems
are often enigmatic, which allows
the reader to find his/her
own meaning.

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/

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The “rest” of the Time

Written for:  The Wednesday Muse #4 – Busy Body  (posted by Toni)
“Speaking of which, what do you all do to rest? do you sleep, take naps, take walks, ride a bike, got to the beach, climb a tree? This prompt is all about what you do to rest. If you meditate to rest, that is fine but mainly, this is about resting, of changing your routine. This is a simple prompt. Write about resting. That is all – let it rest, let it be.”

Walking your dog? Vary the route.
Read a book you cannot put down.
Plant–the earth is rich and pungent,
feels cool between fingers. Outdoors
brings songbirds, and leaves
whispering secrets. Watch water
cascade down mountains. Sleep
on the wrong side of the bed,
get up on the right side. Variations
carry newness.

The Wednesday Muse #4 – Busy Body

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Barring the Mind

Written for:  Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads – “Somewhere in the midst of Stirring April”  – (posted by Sanaa)

The Mind Is Its Own Beautiful Prisoner

the mind is its own beautiful prisoner.
Mine looked long at the sticky moon
opening in dusk her new wings

then decently hanged himself, one afternoon.

The last thing he saw was you
naked amid unnaked things,

your flesh, a succinct wand-like animal,
a little strolling with the futile purr
of blood; your sex squeaked like a billiard-cue
chalking itself, as not to make an error,
with twists spontaneously methodical.
He suddenly tasted worms windows and roses

he laughed, and closed his eyes as a girl closes
her left hand upon a mirror.

by ee cummings

“Cummings exhibited an ongoing interest in both love and the erotic as a subject in both his writing and his painting. As a painter, he dedicated a separate series of paintings each to nudes, burlesques, and to lovers.

As a poet, he was a sensitive and supple writer who ferreted out distinguishing nuances in relation to love and its complements unlove and lust. The poem speaks of a man who has lost his lover and covers various themes such as loss, betrayal, paradoxical dichotomy and mental self-imprisonment.

Our frame of reference is the title of Cummings’s poem. Choose your own form or write in free verse, if preferred. I look forward to reading what you guys come up with.”

Your mind is self-imprisoned,
new thoughts are turned away
by you. Afraid to run out
of space? If that is the case,
I can assure you that you are
not using half of it now. Open
your mind like petals of peonies.
Maybe you will discover your
core, and know there are more
haven’t-dones than dones.
Experiment. Remove the bars.

http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/

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Because

Written for:  Poetic Asides 2019 April PAD Challenge – Day 17
Write a reason poem.

I do not need a reason.
Why? because I am your mother.
Cry all you want–no pierced ears.
Dyed hair was bad enough; but this other

act of piercing, I find barbaric.
Fact is, it detracts from your looks.
Yackety-yak to all your friends,
bracket me as mean, the hit the books.

https://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides

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the air sleeps

Written for:  The Twiglets #122 – “the air sleeps”

The air sleeps,
but does it dream?

She sleepwalks
on many a cold night,
and does not feel
the frigid air.

On a still summer evening
in a tranquil setting
you can hear the air sleeping.

A fine well-bred fellow from Crete
would unwittingly fall asleep
On his wedding night
he passed out like a light.
A mortified bride cried, if only I’d known ‘fore I leaped.

https://thetwiglets.wordpress.com/

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Poetry as Solitary Seed

Written for:  Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads – The Tuesday Platform:
“You Are A Poet!”  (posted by Anmol)
“Write a poem titled, “Poetry as…,” perhaps in the style of Ferlinghetti who speaks of poetry as an insurgent art while exhorting the poets to use their language and expression to save the world by answering/heeding all the challenges that we face today. Let your imagination soar and think of the many things that poetry can be. Here are some titles that I can think of (you can choose one of these as well) — Poetry as Poison, Poetry as World Annihilation, Poetry as a Criticism of Poets, Poetry as a Lonely Endeavour, et al.”

Solitary thoughts roam at front
of your brain, or are tucked
so far away, you cannot gather
them, and harvest them into
a proper crop. You pick
another crop, gather the seeds,
and hope they germinate.

The beat generation saw poets
in coffee houses arguing art,
and politics. Sometimes to
music. Now poets are left
on their own. We can hermit
it, espouse it from a stage,
or web it.

Imagination paints private
pictures of your ideas. There
is no asking another for an opinion.
You write, revise, write. Each time
you share your printed ideas
a piece of you is out there
mingling. Are we expected
to be “The Voice” of poverty,
inhumanity, climate change,
and non-speaking species?
I do not have an answer,
but my solitary roam continues;
my planting allows hope.

http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/

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