Made on a 1974 Smith-Corona Galaxie XII typewriter. All rights reserved by me.
diced in butter sizzle
homely aromatic delight —
- a form of five line poetry
- first line (L1) & L5 are 2 syllables
- L2 is 4 syllables
- L3 is 6 syllables
- L4 is 8 syllables
Obscured Moon, hay(na)ku
and the moon
- A poetic form created in 2003 by poet Eileen Tabios
- Is a 3-line poem with one word in the first line, two words in the second, and three in the third
- Rhyme is optional but rare
- Multiple hay(na)ku that make a longer poem are fine
- Also poets linking is easy and a fun activity
than cucumbers do
than cucumbers too
Leaving the Winter Woods
the winter woods
light strikes all the way through
still darkness, shadows in plain sight —
I copied Adelaide Crapsey, a twentieth-century poet, who wrote cinquain with 22 syllables in five lines as a 2, 4, 6, 8, and 2 pattern.
Her poems feel similar to Japanese tanka, another five-line form, and share a designed focus on imagery and the natural world.
Golf Made Easy, Limerick
There’s a duffer named Squire Tristan
at golf cheats any way that he can.
He cuts a stroke here,
bogus birdies appear:
Sir Shanks-alot— his score is a scam.
mists, unleashed filter through firs
sun slack, the same hills darkly
the stream divided meadow
where the young deer grow
21 September 2018
Syllables per Line
The ordinary room clear rigid
that broken glass, you said,
that broken glass on the floor.
Familiar as more glass in disarray
slight fear un-guilty moving
away from that spot on the floor
avoid danger, clear out—be shy
noblesse oblige broom and pan
glass room rigid un-tidy danger.
That broken glass on the floor,
turn a page of the magazine.
Familiar even, leave the floor
remedy apparent transparent—
you said, broken on the floor, again
again, glass shines, danger, even
warns this floor spot, broom and
pan oblige, un-said moving away
broken glass spot shy noblesse.
The Blue Ridge Mountains give name to a geographical area in the eastern United States.
In my turn, the time, that has no hold on me–
Perhaps I should hang out in a nice recycled clear glass bottle; beside a tree; close to a little brook with riffles; that has a long view of a verdant valley.
My inkwell is clear so I could mingle with ink; be part of a love poem; a last will and testament; official nuptial document; or child’s first practice with a pen.
I see the image shared that at once; I shall never see yet remember then when coldness shall come; aware I am transformed cosmic though I do not recollect a womb-life; as yet I cannot conceive life ongoing then that very thought aspiring is the root of all hope and exploring.
–so go I direction and destination unknown my hand upon the rudder.
03 June 2018
Thank you “poetryfromtheinkwell”
End of day
sun goes down
next cuppa coffee
Chores all done
loosen tired sinews
tell a Whopper
to bed down.
Do it all
for little pay
and a solid roof
at end of the day
buy that’s something, ain’t it.
03 June 2018