Away

Exile works both ways;

do you ever miss my touch,

soft along your skin?

Image by experienceproject.com

Opponents

Your move;

I wait  

You take your time to

take your turn.

I wait.

This is the game we play:

Your move,

while passive, patient,

plotting, planning,

in my head

I grow bitter

for this is the game we play.

You take your time to

take your turn

I wait.

Your move;

I wait.

Image from toptenz.net


Go to the dVerse pub for a belly full of amazing poetry from some very diverse poets!

On Love and War

In spite of the

red flag

I give you my

heart

in a bright storm of love

to push back

the edge of darkness,

chaos,

unknowing

Image Red Spot II by W. Kandinsky, 1921

This is provided by Tess Kincaid as a writing prompt for The Mag.  

On Time and Space

A fixed point

cannot be altered,

but with a wrinkle

of fabric

parallel lines intersect

between you and me

Image by design-char.com


This is posted at dVerse Poets Poets for their writing prompt about undercurrents.

Lack of Time

Tic, tock, tic -

Hurry.  Stop.  Hurry.

Tyranny

of small clocks,

imposed patterns, divide us

keeping bliss on hold

Image by Daryl Edelstein

This poem is done in response to a wonderful photo by Daryl Edelstein.  This picture and others and the written responses they evoke can be found at IGRT (Imaginary Garden w/ Real Toads).  Also, the poetic form I used is a Shadorma, which consists of 6 lines with the following syllable count: 3/5/3/3/7/5 

Why Bread Triumphs Over Death

Whenever I bake bread
Grandma is here.
I knead dough on

the board in her kitchen,

scoop flour from her bin

She hovers, ibbur-like

as I settle the dough to rise

in her thick, ocher bowl

I slide glistening loaves

in the oven and wait

in her arms

breathing in the aroma

of warm bread

This is for G-man and his kick-ass FF55 where you can read lots of cool 55 word long bits and pieces.

Image: realbakingwithrose.com

The Other Side

Begin

with flat shadows and deep whispers,

tumble through the mirror

till finally

you reach

the end

then spin around

look at your reflection

scoop up fistfuls of dark fear and

let go

This form is called Mirror Cinquain, which is defined by the following syllable count per line: 

 2/4/6/8/2-2/8/6/4/2.  Please follow this link: Imaginary Garden with Real Toads to check out more poetry  for their Open Link Monday.  And submit on of your own if it strikes your fancy!

Image from iheartchaos.com

Linear Thinking

In a world of black and white,

tied to a blanket of fear,

you are cushioned from direct contact

You must compartmentalize

   -thoughts

   -feelings

   -relationships

each in its own separate bundle

to be categorized and filed away

minimized, stripped down to its essence

vacuum packed, freeze dried, neatly labeled.

With too many connections, one tug

of the string could pull everything down.

The center will not hold

and the first tear could create an ocean,

deep enough to drown in.

Do not dare to dream

or you may come undone.

This is written for the wonderful image provided by Tess Kincaid at The Mag and also posted at Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Riddle Me This

Riddle: What’s black and white and red all under?

Answer:

This absolute groaner of a riddle is, in part, the fault of Tess Kincaid who provided this wonderful image (which deserves much better) at The Mag.  Go there to see some much more worthy responses :o)

Secret Smile

Ohhhh Mona

you sweet, sweet thing;

who put that smile on your face?

Ermmm… right, that would be

Leo.

He put the smile on your face

and the twinkle in your eye,

with a turn of his wrist

and the soft tickle of

his well-placed brush stroke.

He is truly an old master.

55 foolish words for G-Man and his collection of 55 word long gems over at Mr. Knowitall: Friday Flash 55. Click on the link to see 'em all in one swell foop!

Image from google 

Out

Snuff the candle

watch the smoke rise, swirl, waver

and dissipate into nothing

Over at the pub those dVerse Poets are doin' shots of Imagism.  


Image from neatorama.com

How I Became Invisible

At Donna’s house

she left the yellow living room

to make coffee;

the cloak of my husband shifted

and as the remaining men talked

I realized I had become

invisible

I tried to join the conversation,

they spoke of seemingly familiar topics:

houses, people, music but they

could not hear me-

could not see me-

I feared one of them would reach through me

while gesturing

or grabbing for the dish of nuts

In time they grew dim,

their voices tinny, far away.

By the time Donna came with coffee

they had disappeared entirely

and I was free

to move about the room

as I pleased


Image from sikhdharma.org

SOPA

SOPA/PIPA Petition - click on the link to sign the petition against - Please!

Zen Cat

My cat sits

stout and Buddha-like,

inscrutable.

He is one with the couch

Siren Song

 Poets are not afraid to drown. -Janet Frame

All our gods have turned to stone.

We are edified, petrified

by the letters of a law

chiseled onto tablets,

absolute, unyielding

Thou shalt not…

instead

speak deep

sing low

there is grace here

submerge

in my

lips


Image by Jason deCaries Taylor


This was written for The Mag where Tess Kincaid provides a weekly visual writing prompt.  Congratulations to Tess on the 100th Magpie prompt!  Also submitted to Poets United Poetry Pantry. 

Beyond Fashionably Late

I do tend to be fashionably late, but I think this may be stretching the fabric of time-fashion, as this is written for the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads mini challenge for New Year's weekend.  Oh, here it is anyway.

Prime Poem:  In this poem all the form rules have to do with prime numbers.  There are 2 beats per foot, 5 feet per line (iambic pentameter), 7 lines and 3 rhymes, with the rhyme scheme as follows: a-b-a-c/c-a-b-a and the c/c indicates a rhyme within the line. 

Here is my example, which is inspired by the US presidential primaries, sort of.  And, I'll point out that my stress pattern in the final line is a bit wonky, but let's just pretend that's done on purpose for comic effect. 

The year: 2012, the dye is cast:

Election year insanity ensues.

Commercials come at us so hard and fast,

while candidates are slated for debate.

Their (lack of) reasoning leaves me aghast

Displayed attractively, but without clues

they make me think this year should be the last!

Image from Google images by zimbio.com

Brrrrds

Chillin’ with my peeps

January in Wisconsin

Cool man, really cool

*Photo by me

dVerse Poets

grey skies

threaten to fall

so heavy with regret,

dark clouds seeded with betrayal

rain stinging, bitterness

soaking through to

the bone


Image: flickr, unknown photographer

Untitled

Today is dull grey, a day of unmaking –

unmade beds and unremembered dreams

unfinished poems, undelivered letters

untied knots and unraveled promises

The empty hours stretch before me

with so many words left unsaid,

so many acts of kindness left undone.

Today is dull grey, a day of unmaking


Image is from J-CIO on flickr

New

The hour chimes

the ball drops

and everything is new;

savage celebrating erupts.

But here

in the quiet, still center

a flame burns

blue-white and steady

in the palms of my cupped hands

illuminating a small circle

in the vast  night

where shadows shiver and multiply.

Chaos falls like snowflakes;

come,

share my light.

This is written for Mr. Knowitall's Flash Friday 55.

*Image from internationalministries.org

Wounded

The gash you carelessly sliced 

lay open,

fresh and clean

glistening in the cold morning,

steam rising from my warm flesh.

Bright, viscous blood

pooling

No pain at first,

it was so sudden,

betrayal so sharp.

Later the ache started

Blood coagulated, dried

hard and thick over the wound

as it should.  But

you returned

You came again and again

and white ooze seeped out

as you kept at the flap

of skin

now hot, red 

infected

Because you won’t leave,

my Promethean suffering goes on

(image by mohzart)

Gingrich in Song

Does anyone else notice that Gingrich and Grinch sound so very much alike?  Just for fun I made up something about Newt after his disappointment in the Iowa caucus to be sung to the tune of Mr. Grinch.  Remember, if JUST IN FUN!   (Image from Reason.com)

You're erratic, Newt Gingrich.
You’re up and then you’re down.
You're as constant as an elevator; 
Smile first and then frown, 
Newt Gingrich.

You frighten the party base like a weird, scary clown.

You're a loser, Newt Gingrich.
Your platform’s full of holes.
For another hundred votes.
I think you’d sell your families’ souls, Newt Gingrich.
I wouldn't vote for you with a 
Thirty-nine and a half point lead in the poles.

You're a moron, Newt. Gingrich.
Your brain is in a fog, 
You have all the smarts and logic of a Mad Alaskan dog, 
Newt Gingrich.
Given the choice between the two of you, 
I'd take the mad Alaskan dog.
You're incompetent, Newt Gingrich.
Your bills are full of gunk.
Your contract with America
Nearly got us sunk, 
Newt Gingrich.

The three words that best describe you, 
Are as follows, and I quote"
Stink! 
Stank! 
Stunk! 

After the Storm

When the mud from the river-bottoms has settled

the hazy sky reflects on the surface

smooth and flat.

Mirrored sliver of sky and trees

so calm, no hint of  stormy skies

or rough waters that came before.

No hint of what’s beneath.

Picture: River by Marina Moevs

This was written for Magpie Tales and dVerse Poets Open Link Night.

2012

This year I resolve
to write more, love more, give more
and sew seeds of peace

*image from google