Yet to Be

Who am I to be? I deign not to ask

A decision not mine to make alone

An ovarian joins to complete that task

I lay dormant in a state of my own

Not yet of flesh, sinew or even bone

I’m half the potential that’s yet to be

For now frozen in anonymity


National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 13 brings hope of life in a Rime Royal

The Rime Royal or Rhyme Royal stanza consists of seven lines, usually in iambic pentameter. The rhyme scheme is ABABBCC.

Of Loneliness

Abstract artwork of one pale figure alone amongst an array  of dark figures.

This is something I need to address
To find the words to make it clear
I want…a way out…of loneliness

Surrounded in the city’s excess
I’m screaming but no one seems to hear
This is something I need to address

My soul, before, I’ve tried to undress
For a solace that does not appear
I want…a way out…of loneliness

And further on me it seems to press
Try as I my might to find a way clear
This is something I need to address

And so, I’ve come here to confess
That death is the only cure I fear
I want…a way out…of loneliness

I long to be free of this distress
Get back to the things I held dear
This is something I need to address
I want…a way out…of loneliness


National Poetry 2021 graphic

National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 12

Another Villanelle

I heard the line on loneliness in a video yesterday and Muse flew with it.

Every Second

Bored ambivalence was the word of the day
Decided I was going to go home the long way
It’s only curiosity, was the cool wind blowing around me
Seemed like a day just like any other one
But then a curve ball was thrown into the mix hon

There she was the new big city kid now in a small country town
Sitting on the fence by the creek, so all alone and looking down
Didn’t take a psychic trick, to see she was homesick
I had passed by, but Fate triumphed and I came back after a while
And the reward I reaped was to see beauty in the light of her smile

Every day she smiles it’s just pure elation
Every hour she laughs I can’t help but laugh too
Every minute we kiss it’s an inspiration
And every second she breathes — I thank the heavens it’s true

I tried to descend from the fence, but my foot wasn’t quit clear
And yeah, she laughed as I fell in the water dead on my rear
But she was quick to quell, any hurt feelings and that was swell
By the time I walked her home as first stars shone bright
I was dry and she knew everything was going to be all right

We became friends who flitted twixt that love or the other
Took two years to learn that we were only meant for each other
The great gift I was to find was to let me live inside her mind
What wisdom knew back then, that one act of kindness from me,
Would ascend to a love for you that’s here for all eternity?

Fate stays unconquered every time on the when and where,
We only knew we had arrived once we got there

Every day you smile it’s just pure elation
Every hour you laugh I can’t help but laugh too
Every minute we kiss it’s an inspiration
And every second you breathe — I thank the heavens for you

 


National Poetry 2021 graphic

National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 11

The Space

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

Coming of Aging

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

Pick-a-Laugh

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!

Cartoon woman laughing

National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 8 brings some giggles.

Days Versus Nights

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.

Never Imagined

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.

All That I Need Is Time

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.

This Love’s Season

Spring came with a quickening
Belies frost from days ago
The verdant grass thickening
Wraps this love in rays aglow

Summer raised up paradise
Ablaze in tender poses
Focus on the edelweiss
Blinds this love’s thorns in roses

Autumn felt the forbidden
Narrowed eyes that look away
From tears that come unbidden
Cools this love gone so astray

Winter brought down Xanadu
Once filled with hope so pleasing
In apathy’s residue
Leaves this love interred, freezing

National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 2

Has me trying a brand new form (for me): Ae Freislighe Poems

The Ae Freislighe is an old poetic form from Ireland. It has a quatrain stanzas (4-line stanzas) of only 7 syllables per line. What makes is interesting (and somewhat frustrating) is its rhyme scheme.

Lines 1 and 3 rhyme together, but they rhyme as three syllables (xxa)

Lines 2 and 4 rhyme together as two syllables (xb)

A unique element of the form is that the final syllable of the poem should be the same rhyme as the very first syllable of the poem.

An Ae Freislighe poem can be as concise as one stanza, or scale out as far as a poet wishes.