Tag Archives: Ars Poetica

Burning the Blankness

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The blank page
My tomb – My womb
Where I smolder,
Gossamer – Nebulous
A spark from beneath the surface,
I scratch at an idea,
Thoughts slowly burning,
The kindling of
Letters and punctuations
Until I am borne anew
A phoenix
Burning away blankness
In sentences and paragraphs
In verse and prose
Then in splendiferous coda
Of the final character
I vale to the emptiness
My tomb, My womb
Of the next blank page

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dVerse Poets Pub | Poetics: Creatures of the Blank Page

dVerse Poets Pub graphic

Dora from Dreams from a Pilgrimage, challenges us to a write poem using any animal of choice (real or mythological) as a metaphor for how ideas and words take shape for you on a blank page

A Page That’s Blank

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This is the only true terror to be
The blinking cursor that moves not one space
Or those ruled lines that scream to be penned on
A page that’s blank, while pen is full scares me

Thoughts clash around in ambiguity
Those wisps of words, so close within my grasp
Yet I cannot make heads nor tails of it
This is the only true terror to be

Sometimes mere scribbles are all that I see
But at least there is hope for something more
Empty eight by elevens have no chance
A page that’s blank, while pen is full scares me

This is the only true terror to be
For someone whose whole life depends on words
A page that’s blank, while pen is full scares me

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Ars Poetica in a Villonnet

All One Remembers

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Be it that simple rhyme given to the first friend
The classic ”Roses are red, violets are blue…”
Or on the finest parchment that can be penned
With a method and grace that evokes much ado

Poetry is the verbiage that traces the path of a setting sun ray
Whose impression lasts long after the indigo eve holds sway

We don’t deny that amphigory can crack a mighty smile
Cooling off the sensual steam from a sexy free-verse mix
Metaphor and imagery are just a part of a poem’s style
Though it glitters it’s not silver, is one of its many tricks

Mighty words can pool one’s anger enough to shake the rafter
Or fill a pool with gut wrenching tears if that’s what it’s after

Some say the true crux of a poem’s job is to entertain
It’s a bonus if a lesson happens to be learned
Poorly or very well done, both can bring much gain
And even the rich know its value is not in dollars earned

For when all is said and done, pens down, books close, lips seal
All one mostly remembers of a poem is how it makes one feel

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dVerse Poetry Pub : Ars Poetica – Poems about Poetry