Too Early

With vernal equinox comes joy
I smile at the new buds it brings
Beauty to see walking the park
Belies the chill in sharp employ
I’m not ready to feel such sting
Much too early for autumn’s bark

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Walking in Central Park felt more like October than April.

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National Poetry Writing Month 2016 – Day 9

Today I bring an Italian Sestet

The original version of the Italian Sestet had no set meter, but after Spenser introduced it into England, eventually the poets there began to use iambic tetrameter or pentameter.
The rhyme pattern example is as follows (Using iambic tetrameter)

Sedusa Medusa

Be silent with me, seek
The passion in my stare
For what you will find there
Is not meant for the weak
And surely not the meek
But only if you dare

Aye, come closer a pace
Spy the twists of my curls
How they move how thy swirl
Reveals the smile on my face
Knowing you’re trapped in place
Stone cold within my lair

Too late to make a fuss
Oh et tu Perseus?

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National Poetry Writing Month 2016 – Day 8

Today I have with Medusa’s vexing hex in the form of  a Hex Sonnetta.

The Hex Sonnetta, created by Andrea Dietrich, consists of two six-line stanzas and a finishing rhyming couplet with the following set of rules:

Meter: Iambic Trimeter
Rhyme Scheme: a/bb/aa/b c/dd/cc/d ee

 

A Solo Sail

She’s lived her life in a fish bowl
Always under another’s gaze
Done as was told year after year
And lost her self in small degrees

She looks back on her once young days
From this view now like tales of yore
When she once had a ‘joie de vie”
Now social mores fill her with fears

She grew up from a girl dirt poor
”Oh good girls don’t” was all she learned
Self taught to yield to make her way
Through ranks of yacht society

But decades passed by all she yearned
Daughter, lover, wife and mother
She dutifully played her role
Her wants pushed to another day

She stifles one, then another
Of yawns that had become the rote
Until she saw yards of bright sails
Unfurl and it just grabbed her soul

Decided she will sail a boat
All have their time and hers was now
“She’ll turn yellow once hands hit helm”
They laughed, for ywis she would fail

But she laughs last standing on bow
As salty winds blow through her hair
She sails on terms all of her own
The thrill of it near overwhelms

Sees horizon and thinks “to there”
For destination’s not the goal
Flying solo upon the seas
This moment hers and hers alone

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Written for today’s
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Real Toads Prompt for Today: In the Footsteps of the Suffragettes

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National Poetry Writing Month 2016 – Day 8

Policing the Uterus

http://www.nbcnews.com/news/asian-america/indiana-has-now-charged-two-asian-american-women-feticide-n332761

I literally saw red as I examined the above article.  I felt my blood pressure spike at the thought of this. I mean are you fucking kidding me?!?!

Granted laws make exceptions for when a woman has a miscarriage–but only if there is no human intervention involved. Had it not been for the shame of pregnancy, Ms. Patel did not receive professional medical attention until after the miscarriage occurred, and her situation grew dire, she likely would not be facing jail time.  The shame of the pregnancy kept her silent, that silence meant when she realized she was in the midst of a miscarriage, she tried to hide it. Her trying to hide it snowballed in this craziness here.

Because the Uterine Police, not just the law, also investigates miscarriages, and whether in a hospital or without medical assistance, it must be reported and a fetal death certificate issued. If the cause of death is unknown, it must be investigated.  If the woman can’t, or won’t, tell how it happened, then the Uterine Police can ask family members and friends how.

Even if a woman has made a decision to abort, but miscarries before she can act on that decision, experiences some heartbreak.  There is no best of circumstances for a miscarriage, it rends. Now imagine going through that physical trauma and then having the Uterine Police interrogating your family, your friends and maybe even your colleagues trying to dig up dirt to punish you for it. Because in this increasing culture of “Better the mother dead, than the fetus” not all states will recognize a woman choosing to save her own life when the fetus she is carrying can very likely kill her, such as the case with some ectopic pregnancies, as valid.

The Uterine Police will search your computer, your internet history, your online purchases to use it against you if it can.  Just ask Ms. Patel.

It is not a coincidence that this has happened to two Asian-american women. Their conservative culture making them easy prey for those in the Uterine Police, who could not care less about their right to their own bodies, let alone their right to privacy. They needed scapegoats to make examples out of and these two women fit the bill. And let’s call a spade, a spade here. This likely would never have happened to a white female.  Yet even that is rendered near irrelevant in this.

Because once again, this is mostly men, (ab)using the law, using their personal ideologies to control every woman’s uterus.

Every session someone tries to introduce a bill that would outright make abortion a criminal act.

This bullshit here is one step closer to it.

For The Love of Persephone

First day of spring–
I keep thinking about
The end of autumn.
Matsuo Basho – First day of spring

Lo, how she trembled that first day
Flowers grew where she tread
To quickly die as she walked away
An incongruous sight for the dead
Even Charon was saddened to bring
To the damned, such a beautiful thing
Nor did she bother pretending to resist
When her first earthly return, Demeter insists
For above the living do sing
First day of spring

Years pass and a rapport twixt us grew
I had a golden circlet woven for her as balm
A token of my love as our time to part was due
Adorned with flames and a pomegranate charm
She laughs and I thought I felt love sprout
Yet she left it on our bed with a pout
A hope had glimmered
But her eyes shimmered
It is in the doubt
I keep thinking about

The underworld was hell anew in her wake
Yet the surprise was mine upon her return
To learn her leaving it was not mistake
But to remind me that her love in turn does burn
Now laden with eternities under the sun
From first bud to last leaf it compares to none
For she now returns without regret
To lay claim to me, her love, and the bracelet
Aye, my love, my life always comes
The end of autumn

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Today at Real Toads, Susie prompts us with “bracelet” as inspiration. Basho’s classic haiku brings to mind Hades longing for Persephone.

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National Poetry Writing Month 2016 – Day 7

Today as I continue through the alphabet of poetry forms this month I reach the letter G, and my favorite poetry form, the Glosa.

Something Changed

That
Eve
We trailed
Upstream where
The fireflies were
Fireworks in the new moonlight
And the riverbank shimmered its reflection to us
Water lapping at the shoreline
We sat unafraid
Yet nervous
As some
Thing
Changed
Changed
Beneath
The scent of
Sweet honeysuckle
Wafting in the indigo skies
Where something that was once lukewarm in the sultry day
Became more in the soft nightfall
And with one sweet look
You and I
Were now
An
Us

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Written for today’s
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Real Toads: Compound Word Edition

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National Poetry Writing Month 2016 – Day 6

Today’s form adds up to the Fibonacci Spiral

Those Things That Are Expected

One
Day
Perhaps
When I’m sage
The old rocking chair
May have a place in my life when
I have gray hairs and the wrinkles aplenty you know
Those things that are expected then
Once I reach that stage
When I’m more
At still
Yeah
But
But
Right now
It is such
A long way off from
Those things that are expected then
For they most certainly do not apply to me now
Wherein the only things that rock
Are my jewelry
My music
And of
Course
Me

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National Poetry Writing Month 2016 – Day 6

Today’s form adds up to the Fibonacci Spiral

The Fibonacci Poem, or Fib Poem for short, is a single stanza poem based on the first 7 numbers of the Fibonacci sequence 1,1,2,3,5,8,13. The first and second lines are one syllable, the third line two syllables, the fourth line three syllables and so forth following the Fibonacci sequence. It traditionally ends at seven lines (13 syllables), but some have taken it longer following the sequence.

The Fibonacci Spiral poem is a more structured poem with two stanzas.

The 1st stanza has 13 lines, the 2nd stanza has 12 lines. The last line of your first stanza is repeated to become the first line of your second stanza with no gap between stanzas. Repeat the syllable count to form the spiral for a total 25 lines altogether. If this confuses you just look below.

The syllable counts must be as follows:

stanza 1
1st line – 1 syllable
2nd line – 1 syllable
3rd line – 2 syllables
4th line -3 syllables
5th line -5 syllables
6th line -8 syllables
7th line -13 syllables
8th line -8 syllables
9th line -5 syllables
10th line – 3 syllables
11th line – 2 syllables
12th line – 1 syllable (word must be at least 4 letters)
13th line – 1 syllable
stanza 2 (remember there is no space between the two stanza)
14th line -1 syllables
15th line -2 syllables
16th line -3 syllables
17th line -5 syllables
18th line -8 syllables
19th line -13 syllables
20th line -8 syllables
21st line -5 syllables
22nd line – 3 syllables
23rd line – 2 syllables
24th line – 1 syllable
25th line – 1 syllable

The poem should be Centered.

Spring My Aunt Susy’s Satchel

In winter people complain about the cold.  The deeper in winter it gets, the more people complain. It’s a given. However, there comes a point in winter, usually around Ground Hog Day, where I find myself complaining about those complaining.

It’s winter, it’s cold – uh hello – it’s WINTER – that’s what it does – get cold – duh!

Still, by mid-March I am just as happy as everyone else at the hope of spring being mere days away. And while the First Day of Spring brought light snow, and temperatures during the first week fluctuated wildly, we finally had our hopes of warming climes substantiated when last Friday came in all nice and cozy. Friday was also April 1st, a.k.a. April Fool’s Day and the joke was certainly on us.

The temps have steadily decreased from the oh so loverly 78 degrees of Friday to the whopping 43 degrees high expected for today.  I mean really now. By the time I walked in to work you could have easily convinced me that we somehow went back a month in time. The 30+ degree wind chill that greeted me this morning was just mean. Singing “Baby It’s Cold Outside” in April ain’t cool y’all. I was all set to hang up my winter coat for the next six months and this happens.  Clearly Ol’ Man Winter and the March Lion have not received their official GTFO memo from Demeter. Seriously, chick – hop to it already!

Yes, the deities of mythology and I tend to have major conversations when the weather is adverse to what is expected. Those of you who follow my blog may have already read posts referencing Ol’ Winter, the March Lion and Lamb, and Persephone and Demeter. Suffice it to say all of them had a major talking to from me this morning! From what I can read from my scattered friends online these past couple of days, very few of us in the upper parts of this North American hemisphere are happy with those fickle deities and weather personifications shenanigans.

I apologize immensely for all of you who suffer from allergies, but I am so ready for the annual floral orgy. When I start hearing the masses of you discuss (ahem- whine/complain/grumble -ahem) about your struggles I will know for sure that spring has arrived truly and is hanging around to stay, because right now my Facebook says this:

spring my

And I think that says it all.

By the way I don’t have an Aunt Susy – let alone her satchel.

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Let’s see how my fellow slicers are holding it up this week:

sol

Slice of Life Tuesdays | Two Writing Teachers

The Sun Comes Out Today

The sun comes out today
Sun after so much rain
Comes soft as sweet refrain
Out in its warmth I’ll play
Today I’ll feel no pain

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The above is some serious wishing thinking on my part. The sun is shining, but it is a cold day out there today. My face hurts.  It’s April, my face should not hurt because of wind and cold.  Get your act together Demeter!

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National Poetry Writing Month 2016 – Day 5

Today I try out the Emmett form.

The Emmett has 2 rules:

1.The first line of the Emmett is five WORDS long. Each word of the first line becomes the first word of the following lines. So the second word in line one becomes the first word of line two, the third word becomes the first word of line three, etc.

2. To make things a little more complex the Emmett has a rhyme scheme of a,b,b,a,b.

There are no other restrictions on meter or line length.

The Last Hurrah

Sometimes it does snow in April
Ol’ Man Winter exerts his will
With the March lion he’s allied
Our calendar they’ll not abide
The masses seem most mortified
That snow would deign to fall outside
Demeter smiles in mock deride
As Persephone is by her side
For his blustering’s not bona fide
And that lion runs at the lamb’s chide
It’s the last hurrah until autumn’s chill
I laugh as the scant snowflakes spill

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National Poetry Writing Month – Day 4

Real Toads Challenge: Nature Poetry

Today’s form: Duo-Rhyme (12 line)

The Duo-rhyme, is a 10 or 12-line poem, with the first two and last two lines having the same rhyme scheme, and the center of the poem (lines #3 through #8 or #10) having their own separate mono-rhyme scheme.

Meter: 8 beats per line, written in iambic tetrameter (4 linear feet of iambic)

Rhyme Scheme: 10-line: a,a,b,b,b,b,b,b,a,a  or 12-line: a,a,b,b,b,b,b,b,b,b,a,a