I live at the edge of your atmosphere a sunset strip colorific and clear in a life despite God I cheer raindrops on a sunny April afternoon as tears
Ineffable lamentations surge sweetly to my ears
I bang the drum called your heart with sass for life in a bottle is a house made of glass it was a fruitloop daydream to think me a mere lass the tiny box of lies – the molehill now a mountain of morass
Is the wafting requiem heard through the crevasse
I wake laughing when you knock me out weeping I am my father’s daughter, my lure your curse vastly sweeping your eyes wide shut, don’t touch me while I am sleeping the hate with which I slumber – the secret lover I’m keeping
In the melodic dirge of your tears slowly seeping
dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Let Music Speak
Yesterday at dVerse, poet-tender for the evening, paeansunplugged, invited us to let the music speak and challenges us to write a poem based on prompt phrases from the music of Linda Perry:
Edge Of Your Atmosphere
Life Despite God
Sunny April Afternoon
Bang The Drum
Life in a Bottle
Tiny Box Of Lies
Knock Me Out
I Am My Father’s Daughter
Don’t Touch Me While I Am Sleeping
We were only required to to incorporate two of the above choices in our poems about music. As usual Muse chose not understand the message. All twelve prompts are there in the order as given.
For this week’s Quadrille, Kim (Writing in North Norfolk) is prompting a revolution for a quadrille, a poem of exactly 44 words not including the title, but must include some form of the word “revolution”.
Here I give gentle nods to Gil Scott Heron (The Revolution Will Not Be Televised) and Marvin Gaye (Inner City Blues)
The silence was loud – A cacophony In the moment felt after – Their two hearts beating as one What once was – scattered – What it now collects So beyond what could have been – In the moment of his kiss When he marked her with a smack – That she returns it in kind
Tonight, Laura is hosting this week where we are challenged to cleave antonyms in a contrapuntal poem.
Here I play with the ending and the beginning of a relationship, tenses and use of the word smack a bit of a contranym itself.
Choosing from a collection of opposing word pairs as a prompt. We must then write two distinct poems, while including the chosen words somewhere in the body of each poem and then combine as one larger composition as either a Contrapuntal, Cleave or Reverso form.
When looking up examples of the above poetry form I realized I knew of another form which aso fit the desired theme perfectly and offer a Super Tanka.
This love thing Wasn’t my calling Sentiment Not a thing I could stand Yet you right zoomed in So enthralling Put a wrench To my solo life planned And though I haven’t finished falling, It’s good to know It’s with you where I’ll land
on Quadrille Monday De Jackson (aka WhimsyGizmo) had us zooming around the history of a humble four letter word that, in the beginning, literally sounded like something fast and exciting – like race cars. Thanks to Covid, the word has also become somewhat synonymous with a slow dreadful thing to be avoided – like online office meetings.
As such we’re being asked to Zoom our way around a quadrille, a poem of exactly 44 words not including the title, but must include some form of the word “Zoom”.
Here my mind zooms in completely different direction than my previous quadrille.
Yesterday on Quadrille Monday De Jackson (aka WhimsyGizmo) had us zooming around the history of a humble four letter word that, in the beginning, literally sounded like something fast and exciting – like race cars. Thanks to Covid, the word has also become somewhat synonymous with a slow dreadful thing to be avoided – like online office meetings.
As such we’re being asked to Zoom our way around a quadrille, a poem of exactly 44 words not including the title, but must include some form of the word “Zoom”
This is the bend before the break. This is the mercy not the grace. This is the proof and not the faith I try to find. There shouldn’t be a good in goodbye. –Jason Walker / Shouldn’t Be A Good in Goodbye
The night beautiful and starry Then you pull me close – whisper I’msorry And something inside begins to shake For I know in the morning you’ll walk away It’ll only hurt more if I ask you to stay And this is more than I can take This is the bend before the break
It’s not what’s meant by ‘till death us do part’ When the thing that’s dead is your heart But I see the nothing left in your face So when you tell me it will be okay I know in the morning you’ll walk away Leaving me in the pain for time to erase This is the mercy not the grace
This is not how it I want it to be My heart shattered all around me The loosened knot of the ties that bind I know in the morning you’ll walk away You tell me, I’ll be fine again someday And it is a truth that’s most unkind This is the proof and not the faith I try to find
Even though we it’s far from right When I let you stay for one last night You hold me with love, that I know is a lie And there’s not a damn thing left to say When I know in the morning you’ll walk away So when the dawn and I break, I don’t cry There shouldn’t be a good in goodbye
Never one for romances I was blinded to arrive Apart from old advances By time’s sweetest contrive
You chipped at the iciness That fear had given quarter Revealing warm spiciness Under this cold heart’s mortar
With twin hearts now emblazing Gave no choice but to sever The cold to the amazing This love so dear so clever
Day 2 of National Poetry Writing Month I bring you an Ae Freislighe poem
The Ae Freislighe (ay fresh-lee) 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. (Yes, I cheated here – rhyming the word, not the syllable. It said should not must – shoot me.)
An Ae Freislighe poem can be as concise as one stanza, or scale out as far as a poet wishes.
I Do sense Here and now This first bright spark I shall not waste it
You Also Know the gods This moment touched You will not waste it
We Now one Deep feeling This sacredness We do not waste it
I kick off National Poetry Writing Month with an Arun, as I have done these past few years, in honor of the fiend (<– not a misspell), and creator of this poetic form – GirlGriot, who first got me into this yearly challenge.
An Arun is a fifteen-line poem in three sets of five lines. Each set of five lines follows the same syllable structure: starting with one syllable and increasing by one syllable with each line. 1/2/3/4/5 — 3x. There are no other rhyme or structural requirements.