Micorfiction Monday #72

It's Monday, and that means time for Microfiction Monday! Susan at Stony River provides a picture and challenges us to create a story using 140 characters or fewer. So without further ado I give you my haiku:

With one final step
The blue suede shoes are complete:
Now to add the soul

Magpie Tales # 54 - Missing Piece

How can it be?
the pieces don’t fit anymore,
there’s a space
where we used to fit together,
full convex curve
butted up against concave.
Now there’s an ocean of mattress between us
And so many things
have fallen through
that gap

Sunday Scribblings #225 - Food

My response to the Sunday Scribbling prompt of Food:
This is a form called a Dectina Refrain that a friend of mine, Catherin Mackie, from Bleeding Moon Poetry blog created. Here are the rules if anyone wants to try, or just count and check up on me:
A Dectina Refrain is:

1 syllable
2 syllables
3 syllables
4 syllables
5 syllables
6 syllables
7 syllables
8 syllables
9 syllables

Repetition of syllables 1/2/3/4 to make a logical free-standing statement that is the emphasis of the poem.

Smell
the warm
crusty bread
My offering
fresh from the oven
kneading, resting, rising
I become my grandmother.
Standing in her warm, safe kitchen,
we are together, a communion,
generously passing out bread and love

Smell the warm crusty bread, my offering


Smell
the warm
crusty bread.
My offering
fresh from the oven
this is the bread of life
not that flat, tasteless wafer
they pass out on Sunday morning
bread from heaven, but we are earthy

Smell the warm, crusty bread. My offering


And here is another food themed poem. It is pretty much an actual conversation I had with my mom when I was about 7 years old. I can still remember how puzzled I was with that reasoning, that my overeating would help someone who was starving. It was in all earnestness that I suggested sending my food to China, so I was really surprised when my mom was angry with me. I started to make it this conversation into a Dectina Refrain, but it just wouldn’t fit, but I sort of like the idea of it, so here it is in free verse:


Clean
your plate
children are
starving in China

Can I send them

my extra?

Young lady

don’t you talk back!
Clean your plate
Children are starving

in China

Magpie Tales # 53

I am not your sweetheart
my love is savory,
it tastes of salt
there is a bite to it, and
at times
it can sting
but oh,
this is the spice of life -
Relish me

After some input from members of Facial Expression Poetry Group (many thanks) and some thinking and head scratching on my part I have an edited version of the above poem which is as follows:


I am not Your Sweetheart

My love tastes of salt
there is a bite to it, and
at times
it can sting
but oh,
this is the spice of life.
Savor me.

Microfiction Monday #70

Susan at Stony River gives a photo prompt each Monday and the response is to be 140 characters or less. Thanks to you Susan, and here is my offering for this week's picutre:



Messy boy! You’ve spilled something on your shirt. Now go sit next to your brother in the naughty spot!

Poetry Potluck - Love, Bonds and Relationships

This is a little poem I wrote in an earlier with another love poem. I'm reposting this one as it fits the theme this week. Happy Valentine's Day everyone!

Love...

It strikes like a bolt of lightening
out of the blue;
and we are left,
wondering where to hide the bodies

100th Post! - On the Threshold

This entry is a special one for me. It's the 100th entry of my Writing in the Bachs! Woo hoo (pause while I do happy dance). Thanks to everyone who follows, and to those who have read and commented on any of this chaos stew. I have decided to include several quotes about writing that speak to me, and then a poem that was inspired by a past Magpie, but that I didn't enter there. It has also been edited with influence from comments by the Facial Expression Poetry Group I have joined.

Writing is both mask and unveiling. -E.B. White

Being an author is having angels whisper in your ear - and devils, too. -Terri Guillemets

Writers are not just people who sit down and write. They hazard themselves. Every time you compose a book your composition of yourself is at stake. -E.L. Doctorow

Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time. -Thomas Merton

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

On the Threshold

hair and bed sheets in disarray
she rushes down the stairs

a fluttering in her chest
as she opens the door
she wonders -

is this a beginning
or an end?

Thank you all again!

Peace - Poetry Potluck

For this prompt I tried a new (for me) poetic form, the Sedoka. It's actually two shorter poems, called katauta, each a three line a syllabic pattern of 5-7-7. The only other rule is that each three-line section should be able to stand alone. So the sedoka is two sections of three lines each with the following syllable count: 5-7-7 5-7-7
And here is my first sedoka


We are seekers all
racing, chasing after peace
but enveloped by chaos.

The peace that passeth
understanding is here, now,
if we only understand.