Party Time in Senoia, Georgia, a Rhuput poem



They sat at the bar    they couldn’t go far    the keys were in my pocket.
It was dark in the car    the town was bizarre    the door clicked as they locked it.
While outside was chaos    for which they’re famous     the folks kicked up quite a din.
Some hooted and growled    they shambled and prowled    Dead trying to get back in.
Then the night got “too quiet”    silence after a riot    what gives, is this all you got?
Scores of Walkers poured in     some thick and others way thin   a back door they forgot it.
It all ended….well    the party was swell      same time next year in Senoia
For Walking Dead fun    that makes your heart run      and laugh at your paranoia.


© Lemuel
30 April, 2018
Rhuput Poem
NaPoWriMo 2018
Notes Rhuput Poetic Form
  • Written in lines or stanzas
  • A form of Welsh origin
  • Each line or stanza contains 3 to 5 sections
  • Each section has 4-syllables. Okay, mine had a few more than 4.
  • The final section of each line or stanza rhymes with the final section of the other lines or stanzas. I only rhymed  each line’s three sections and that’s a lot of rhyme.

Our Poets, a Ghazal Poem

Our poets tickle words; invoke a tale from the writing reed,

Others unprovoked, quiet read the lines of the writing reed.

Fill books and manuscripts invoke the writing reed.

Reed thrives in sunlight and in gloomy places,

Tight or roomy spaces make the writing reed.

Fill books and manuscripts invoke the writing reed.

Where salamanders dream the groom gathers the weeds,

The carver grooms weeds and makes the writing reed.

Fill books and manuscripts invoke the writing reed.

Thieves may steal an idyll of silver made by the writing reed,

Endowed with ink words flow like a vast fount from the writing reed.

Fill books and manuscripts invoke the writing reed.

Listen, lowing breezes of the night, lights to darkness concede,

One, as all, Beloved of God, a scribe, puts down his writing reed.

© Lemuel

29 April, 2018

NaPoWriMo 2018


Ghazal Poetic Form

  • Minimum of five couplets
  • Each line of the poem must be equal (syllables) in length
  • Couplet one introduces the scheme, rhyme, followed by refrain
  • Follow-up couplets pick up the same scheme in the second line only
  • Final couplet includes poet’s signature referencing the poet in first-or third-person or a derivation of the meaning of their name.
  • Rhyme scheme is AA bA cA dA eA, etc.
  • Each couplet ends on the same word or phrase.
  • Themes can be love, melancholy, longing, or metaphysical questions

Essay, What I Learned, NaPoWriMo 2018

Essay, What I Learned, NaPoWriMo 2018


I wanted the 2018 edition of the National Poetry Writing Month to be a challenge to me. Last year I read some fine examples of poets dropping off their gifts to the readers, largely these skillfully crafted verses were satisfying, and some were otherwise. I could see the joy, their deliberate reckless abandon; I noted their skill and their unabashed demonstration of fortitude or maybe it was their sheer lack of self-respect. Those are my people.

I learned new (to me) poetic forms. That was part of my purpose. Some forms were ancient; some constructs were from around the world, and in the main largely unfamiliar to my normal.  Some poetic ways were demanding and strict, even rigid—I tried them and to varying degrees had some success—and in some ways no so much elusive victory. In the case of getting close, or not, I noted my effort was ‘missing-the-mark’. In truth a confession but more like a deflection, for my own protection, because I didn’t aim for perfection.

Next, I wanted to prove to myself I didn’t need to be ‘in the zone’, or in-the-mood, or to wait as some empty vessel for the Muse to fill me if I were standing on the anointed street-corner at the stroke of midnight—although all of those are still true.

I have the ability to find (everywhere) what I didn’t think I knew (so I am a fool). I can form what I do know, and take what is a wild-ass-guess and fit this all  into the skin, the format called poetry. Then by sifting, sorting, and throwing a whole lot of my gut into the effort I see and hear, after the re-write is finished (again), here’s a bright shiny new poem that has never existed since I began.

I wanted to reach the heart and the mind and perhaps show the soul an extraordinary light show. I dared my imagination to take off the shoes and dance in fields of clover without fear of bee-stings. I wanted to uncover my eyes to see life refreshed. I traveled through the path at the tip of my pen to places and times and feelings yet undiscovered.

And, then I discovered the additive effort (pleasure) of writing well. Accomplished writing was a huge goal I prepared prior to diving into this year’s challenge. To accomplish it I had to be brutal and humble to make poesy on my own terms and flip-side to accept what just came from “gods-only-know-where”. I weighed every line, each word, mood, tone, and tendril to make something honorable and for me to be true to the Art of poetry. And I had fun.

Having fun making solid poetic examples;  leaving room for making slights to honored and true edifices, picking at the nose of the monolithic, with a trickster’s rag-a-muffin dis-respect, in other words I wanted to make poems funny, to exude humor, to put laughs on the menu so to speak. Being clever was never a goal but the action does confirm and indict the accused.

This last bit I feel is the most important sound bite. I could write all day. Type all night. Tear sheaves from giant rolls and waste reams of paper. Then,  lock the poems away neatly in cigar boxes, secret, silent, dark on shelves in  pantry and await  a day when I’m long mouldering gone for someone, a miner, some cryptic delver, come to discover, perhaps to share the script and scrawl of mine with others. I might have been that way once, but not now, nope, no more.

I read once, “Forget about fear. It takes real courage to make a fool of yourself.” Poems (for me) aren’t for fame, or for “likes”, or as week-end-newspaper-review-adulation, or for honorable prizes (lofty offices), and not to get funky titles for my CV (my résumé). Poems are for people. The one’s like me who are so often wrong, but can be delightful in our failings.

If none of my goals and my lessons learned gets a tick mark, I know the last one did.



© Lemuel

29 April, 2018



NaPoWriMo 2018


Aubade, for a Button-Down Shirt


Aubade, for a Button-Down Shirt


He rang the buzzer

he heard the shower

running over which

her voice said, “Yes-ss?”


“I forgot my car keys,”

the door unlocked with

a hissing that always

made him finch.


Up three flights he ran

the door ajar he’d be late

for his flight for sure.


The shower running

“…did you get everything?”

“Yes,” and there she was

on the bed in

one of his button down

shirts undone.


So he helped her out

She helped him in

The day was lost

The day was won.


© Lemuel

29 April, 2018


NaPoWriMo 2018



Aubade Poetic form

  • Anaubade is a morning love song about lovers separating at dawn.
  • Early forms the 16 century for example dealt with unsatisfied love supposedly not a big deal in Elizabethan times.
  • Shakespeare in Romeo and Juliette penned this:

Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day:

It was the nightingale, and not the lark,

That pierc’d the fearful hollow of thine ear



come and gone, a kimo poem


come and gone

young father looks so small cradles newborn

generations come and gone

first crying, last farewell


(c) Lemuel

27 April, 2018

Notes Kimo Poem

  • A variant of the haiku
  • 3 lines
  • 23 syllables line 1 10-syllables, line 2 7-syllables, line 3 6-syllables
  • Offers a snapshot view, frozen action, usually no movement is expressed.

Love Me, Love Me Not, a Cyrch-a-Chwata Welsh form

ball eight 2



A quest for some sort of sign–

Ordinary or divine;

“We’ll be lovers or benign?”

Shake that black orb one more time:

“Pursue or merely resign?”

The ball gives “No Clue”, ‘tis fine

“Seek answers online we go,”

Eight Ball, gives a “NO”, denied.


© Lemuel

26 April, 2018



  • Ancient Welsh poetic form, “kirch-a-chóo-tah” (two rhyme a chwta).
  • Attributed to Einion Offeiriad (c.1320-c.1349) a Welsh bard and grammarian.
  • Octave stanza , 8-line stanza for this form.
  • 7 syllables per line.
  • The rhyme matrix:

x x x x x x A
x x x x x x A
x x x x x x A
x x x x x x A
x x x x x x A
x x x x x x A
x x x x x x B
x x B x x x A
(B can shift position slightly)


NaPoWriMo 2018



Come on Spring, a Kentucky Derby Toast



horse thoroughbred race with jockey

Come on Spring, a Kentucky Derby Toast


March was tired by the thirty-first.

And so say all of us.

Frigid snow falls too many frosts.

And so say all of us.

April was a right awful clown.

And so say all of us.

Gales and blizzards, icebergs abound.

And so say all of us.

So here’s to May our Derby hope.

And so say all of us.

In Louisville we’ll need no coat.

And so pray all of us.


© Lemuel

25 April, 2018



  • A Chant or a Toast either works.
  • Get your Mint Juleps (Bourbon) and sing along.
  • The Kentucky Derby is May 5, 2018 at Churchill Downs in Louisville, Kentucky, y’all.

NaPoWriMo 2018


The Night Garden, an Ottava Rima Poem




Before the waking of the day– darkness;

Night creatures roam the same garden I weed.

Tiny prints in soft soil– passed in silence;

Carapace discarded — a growing need.

Taunt tendrils pure woven resilience,

Attested arachnid geometry.

Snail silver streaks streaming longitude lines,

Meander as caravan crossing signs.


© Lemuel

25 April, 2018



Ottava Rima Poem

  • Originally an Italian stanza of eight 11-syllable lines
  • Lord Byron adapted it to a 10-syllable line forDon Juan
  • Eight lines iambic pentameter or 10-syllables per line
  • The ottava can stand alone or can make an un-limited poem


NaPoWriMo 2018


Winsome Mary, an Ae Freislighe


Gone. So, you love another,

No apology needed.

Soon then you will discover

My heart was never deeded.

I suffer no misery,

I’ll sleep well but not alone;

relish my sweet mysteries,

my oath, you’ll never abone.*

(c) Lemuel

2 April, 2018

NaPoWriMo 2018


The Ae Freislighe Form

Quatrain stanzas (4 lines)

7 syllables per line

Lines 1 & 3 rhyme as 3 syllables xx a

Lines 2 & 4 rhyme as 2 syllables x b

The final syllable, word, or line of the poem (poet’s choice) should be the same as it was when the poem began.

First Date, a Nonet



Friday, a first date always nervous.

Trying to keep calm being cool;

writing questions I might hear.

Trying on clothes matching

my shoes to get the

look right as if

it’s for points.

First kiss?



© Lemuel

24 April, 2018


Nonet Poetic form

First line is 9-syllables in length. Each line thereafter reduces the number of syllables by one until the ninth line has a single syllable.

NaPoWriMo 2018