The space between us
that once only measured with microscope
is now spanned miles
even though you lay beside me
The space in arms that hold myself
where they once held you
in laughter in comfort
or just for the sake of holding
The space in my heart
that overflowed with joy
now filled to the brim
with heartache
The space in our conversations
say more than what’s spoken
we ignore the silence
civil words cannot hear
National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 10
I’m not questioning Mother Nature deciding
That the zipper of my favorite jeans parting
Is the result to my refusal of publicly farting
Father Time’s clock’s jingling, its hand landing
On where my body temp starts its constant revising
Between suddenly dropping and suddenly rising
Miss Clairol’s been looking more and more inviting
‘Cause not a word you say will be convincing
When the grays come in packs, I’ll be rinsing
Elastic is my friend while I’m weighting
And I carry a fan or a cloth for wiping
I’m content for now to cease my griping
I’m in no way catering to the act of aging
I’m simply deciding that the act of coping
Is more preferable than the act of moping
National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 9
I’m taking a trip down the lighter side of life even as I acknowledge that my trip is more like a prat fall – enjoy!
And today’s poetic form I tackle a Tritina
The tritina is a reduced version of the sestina written in iambic pentameter, which uses 3 repeated end-words (i.e. the final word of each line is repeated as the final word of each line in subsequent stanzas, just in a different order) and 3 three-line stanzas with a concluding one-line coda that must contain all three repeated words in order of their original appearance. The pattern/order of the repeated end-words is:
a
b
c
c
a
b
b
c
a
a–b–c
Is a distinguished hearty-har,
More fun than a simple guffaw?
Care to tell a chortler
Their tones are that of titterers?
The ground rule is a simple one:
The volume rises with the fun!
Come point out an open chuckle
From sniggers that burst a buckle.
But pick a laugh it’s yours to call
‘Cause I’m about to slip and fall!
National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 8 brings some giggles.
The days I survive It's the nights I dread When faced with the emptiness of our bed The day I spend madly running to and fro coming home only once I've exhausted every other place to go Under the guise of being busy Under the prayer, I'll quickly sleep Stretched out in a space unnaturally wide I can't enjoy it you're not by my side You're out on the road and not just for a small while I'm faced with the reality of not seeing your smile For each eternity I lay awake gets closer to the tears I'll shed Yes, while your voice on the phone makes the moment feel alright once we hang up, it's just me Just the emptiness, just the night The days I survive It's the nights I dread When faced with the emptiness of our bed
National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 7 finds me pondering the lamentations of a long-distance truck driver’s spouse in free verse.
Sympathy
accord, rapport
caring, recognizing, supporting
compassion, benevolence, singlemindedness, distant
ignoring, unseeing, uncaring
insensitive, blind
Apathy
dVerse Poets Pub — Poetics | Flipping Meanings
Tonight at dVerse Lisa challenges us to play ‘The Opposite Game’ and Flip the Meanings of poems.
I chose to create a poem using the Diamante form which goes as follows:
Line 1: Noun or subject
Line 2: Two Adjectives describing the first noun/subject
Line 3: Three -ing words describing the first noun/subject
Line 4: Four words: two about the first noun/subject, two about the antonym/synonym
Line 5: Three -ing words about the antonym/synonym
Line 6: Two adjectives describing the antonym/synonym
Line 7: Antonym/synonym for the subject
As its name suggests, a Diamante forms a diamond shape when done.
“Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.”
Though often (mis)attibuted to John Lennon, the earliest certain source of the popular quote was by Marthe Troly-Curtin in her novel “Phrynette Married” (1912).
I used this exact opening a couple of weeks ago when I attempted to have a day vegetating. Today I use it response to a complaint.
“God! Every time I call! Why are always writing a story, or working out a poem, or you’re painting something. Pick something, ONE thing and be good, really good, perfect at it. Maybe you could make money off it and stop wasting your time.”
My pithy response: “I write and I paint because I like it and because I have no space for carpentry workshop and a kiln.”
Oh, there was so much to unpack with that loaded statement and her not understanding why I was offended by it.
What is with limiting a person to one form of expression? The whole pick one thing and be good/perfect at it nonsense, is in a word nonsense. Dion Sanders and Bo Jackson excelled in both baseball and football in their heydays. Venus and Serena Williams are both phenomenal tennis players and wonderful clothing designers. Several of Hollywood and UK actors also excel in other creative outlets. It’s Art. You know that thing like beauty is in the eye of? So who determines what’s good or God help us perfect creatively anyway? Who determines its clock value? Is the pursuit of a second passion for pleasure only limited to those those who can afford it? If it’s not making money, it is waste of time?
As I understand it Art students study other art to learn what’s good. Though they both use pointillism, no one is going to confuse a Seurat with a Lichtenstein, but they’re both good. Rembrandt, Warhol, Monet, Max, Michelangelo, Haring, Picasso, Van Gogh, Pollock, are all amazing artists, not one looks like the other and none of them did what they did to be “good.” The artists painted what they wanted, the way they wanted – period. That others cottoned on and made some of them renowned during their lifetimes was a lucky bonus. Some of the names mentioned were not famous, until after their deaths. It likely wasn’t perfect, to some of them. It may not have even been “good” to them, but you know what it was? Good enough to make them happy or they tried again until they were. They did it for they were inspired, because it pleased them. I am 10,000 percent sure someone had said to each them at some point “stop wasting time.”
Why must damn near everything in life sans breathing, and bathroom functions, can only be considered worthy of one’s time if it can also potentially line one’s wallet? Stop that nonsense! Elizabeth Barret Browning, Alex Haley, e.e. cummings, Arthur Conan Doyle, Langston Hughes, James Baldwin, Nikki Giovanni, Ernest Hemingway, Sylvia Plath, Octavia Butler, Stephen King, Diana Gabaldon, Andrew Wilmot, Amanda Gorman: none of them wrote their very first stories and poems, because they were out to make money, they wrote because they had stories to tell. It just so turned out that eventually others liked the stories as well. The rest is the luck, ill or otherwise, of the draw. But we know their names in the first place solely because they had a story they needed to tell. The story got told. It was not a waste of time.
We blog, and some of have regular followers, but the mass majority of us are not, nor have any intent to be “influencers.” Still, we blog because we have stories to tell, in words or in art or both.
I create because it pleases ME. The moment it becomes something I have to do to make money, it becomes a job. And knowing me – it will no longer be something I enjoy. I create the ways I do because I want to. I’m not trying to be good, I am having fun. That others enjoy it is wonderful, but is never the impetus for me to type out pixels or pick up my pencil or brush. It is always time well spent, even if I hate the result. On the outside I am an adult exuberantly expressing my creativity through mixed media. On the inside I’m a four-year-old happily making a mess scribbling and finger painting. Ask any preschooler…
…That is never a waste of time.
Slice of Life – Tuesday Writing Challenge
Two Writing Teachers
They were alone at last.
On his knees.
His face wet with falling tears.
How he always liked him.
Hands clasped tight in front of him.
His voice hoarse from begging.
His knees wet with the tears that have fallen.
How he always wanted him.
He waited for the stark voice of his command.
He waited for the tantalizing touch of his control.
How he always needed him.
He knew he waited in vain.
So, he looked up at last.
In wet tears of grief.
In front of the marble headstone.
How he never imagined him.
National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 6
Muse does enjoy taking things in an unexpected direction. Sorry/not sorry.
Walking the vineyard
Early that morning
Wine fermented air
In the day dawning
A table waited
Laden with mounds
Of the deepest
Sweet rounds
There sparkled a diamond
Brighter than the dew
“My love,” you knelt smiling,
“I’ve a grape to pick with you.”
dVerse Poets Pub : Quadrille # 125 – In Praise of the Grape
Tonight at dVerse bar Linda serves us some wine to prompt our taste buds to verse the quadrille.
A Quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words, not including the title. It must include the prompt word wine. Muse was in a silly mood.
National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 5
We rise now in this fateful hour
Once in thorns, now is nimbus crowned
For He is risen, the blood has power
Knelt in prayers and tears dour
Those of us who are still earthbound
We rise now in this fateful hour
Some stare in awe, others cower
None can deny, the sight astounds
For He is risen, the blood has power
From our knees we grow and flower
New grains to sprout up from the ground
We rise now in this fateful hour
On this third day to now shower
A faith anew with life is found
For He is risen, the blood has power
We cling to the Almighty bower
Spread The Word with joyous sound
We rise now in this fateful hour
For He is risen, the blood has power
National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 4
And today Easter Sunday I offer a Lenten poem in the form of a Villanelle.
The Villanelle is a poetic form composed of nineteen lines. These are arranged as five tercets (three-line stanzas) followed by a quatrain (four-line stanza).
There is no established meter to the villanelle – modern villanelles tend to pentameter, while early villanelles used trimeter or tetrameter.
The most striking thing about a villanelle is that it has two refrains (“A1” and “A2”) and two repeating rhymes (“a” and “b”). The first and third line of the opening tercet are repeated alternately as the refrains, until the last stanza, which includes both refrains.
With this, the pattern of the villanelle can be illustrated as as
A1bA2
abA1
abA2
abA1
abA2
abA1A2
where “a” and “b” are the two rhymes, and the upper case letters (“A1” and “A2”) indicate the refrains.
All that I need is time To smooth these nipped edges How much more can I take I’m living a nightmare While standing here awake All that I need is time To help me muddle through These dreams of yesterday Like popsicles in sun They come then melt away All that I need is time You're still very much here Not like I have much choice Each breeze ignites your touch As the wind holds your voice All that I need is time Just take it day by day Small comforts slowly grow Nothing lasts forever This urgent pain will go
National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 3
And today’s poetic form is a Monchielle
The Monchielle is a poem that consists of four five-line stanzas where the first line repeats in
each verse. Each line within the stanzas consist of six syllables, and lines three and five rhyme.
The rhyme pattern is Abcdc Aefgf Ahiji Aklml.
