This was a project I did basically during the pandemic. I started writing a poem a day. Once ‘real life’ started again it got harder to write everyday, which is interesting.
winter time today
white covers the ground
gray skies hang around
stuck in winter time today
wish the cold would go away
want to go outside and play
Limericks
There was a woman in Wheaton
Who felt she had maybe been cheatin’
Writing silly old rhymes
That don’t take much time
But her streak was mostly unbeaten
There was dog on the couch
You would never call him a grouch
Give him a treat
Or something to eat
And by your side he will slouch
A man asleep in his bed
A pillow soft under his head
He dreams as a boy
Who plays with his toy
But he wakes to a mountain of dread
spring to cleaning
messy
dusty, grime
hanging, covering, coating
daring me to attack
spraying, wiping, sweeping
shiny, bright
clean
morning to night
morning
reliable, sweet
promising, beckoning, unfurling
quietly bending to the inevitable
covering, eclipsing, blanketing
heavy, dark
night
Playing here with a poetry form called diamante. I broke the rules a bit but oh well….
cinquain: one form
Cinquain
Count syllables
First two then four, six, eight
Used first by Adelaide Crapsey
Knowledge
work-a-day life
working
the day begins
the pattern stays the same
coffee, writing, to the machine
begin
something new - the senryu
I am the haiku,
perhaps the most popular
of all the poems.
How do you know me?
Count first to five, then seven,
back to five...the end.
I should talk about
nature. But today, I am
breaking all the rules.
Here is a secret.
In truth, I am called senryu.
You can look me up.
Just because I’m nice —
here is a great article
about me, senryu.
Playing with Iambic Pentameter
Do you know how to name a foot in verse?
The word I found and learned today — iamb.
It is the thing that gives this line its pulse.
You can hear it if you start out da DUM.
No stress, then stress, no stress, then stress, to ten.
And then, of course, you can break all the rules.
snow blower
softly blanketed
neverland
outside my
window
bursts of noise
loud grinding
outside my
window
everyone in a
rush
B-e-a-u-t-y
Behold the strange condition
each of us is in —
alone in a great mystery, only
understanding our small piece of the world; but
then, there is
you.
F-R-I-D-A-Y
Finally end of week arrives
Relax and revitalize
Ingest more than you should
Dawdle through the neighborhood
Allow your look to be a little rough
Yes, Monday will come soon enough
The Knitter, The Watcher, and The Boatman
The Knitter works in silence, joining random hearts
The Watcher fails to notice, stuck behind thick glass
The Boatman trolls the seas of fate, playing his own part
The Knitter moves through others, leading them to art
The Watcher finds no comfort, although he does amass
The Knitter works in silence, joining random hearts
The Boatman meets his post, his focus on his cart
The Watcher fills with sadness, as the time does pass
The Boatman trolls the seas of fate, playing his own part
The Knitter makes connection, built with no clear chart
The Watcher stands alone, claiming higher class
The Knitter works in silence, joining random hearts
The Boatman does his patient work, there when you depart
The Watcher fights for certain, but truth he may bypass
The Boatman trolls the seas of fate, playing his own part
The Knitter will encourage, tugs to make a start
The Watcher will resist, claiming deep impasse
The Knitter works in silence, joining random hearts
The Boatman trolls the seas of fate, playing his own part
all the letters for you
A is for Always, right there beside me
B is for Best friend, forever
C is for Cuddles, early each day
D is for Dog, nothing better
E is for Ears, yours are long and they flop
F is for Friend, here again
G is for Gassy, you sometimes are
H is for Heart, mine you are in
I is for Itchy, you seem to be sometimes
J is for Jumpy, for sure
K is for Kisses, when saying good bye
L is for Lap, mine is yours
M is for Missing, I do when I’m gone
N is for Nails, yours are long
O is for Open, I want to go out
P is for Petting, stopping is wrong
Q is for Quiet, not with the mailman
R is for Race, to the door
S is for Smelling, pretty much everything
T is for Treats, give me more
U is for Usual, isn’t it time for a walk?
V is for Vet, we must go
W is for Water, I love to jump in
X is for Xray, oh no!
Y is for Young, I wish you could always be
Z is for Zillion, the pounds of joy you bring me
❤️ This poem is dedicated to my friend David and his new buddy Athos. ❤️
under a tree
i’m seeing it all
as a great adventure to test
out things that i have not tried before to watch
what happens when i try something new and maybe
delight in what occurs or maybe not like it at all but it is
becoming clear that it does not matter much what happens
once the deed is done and the thing whatever the
thing is yes we have tread that ground
before but sometimes perhaps
i will get tired and i
will
want
to sit
under
a tree
and
rest
and
see
bees buzz
around me and
then i will smile and be done
The Letter
I am exploring forms of poetry. One is called The Letter or Epistolary or Epistle. Not that I knew this before I looked it up but a piece of learning - the Latin word "epistula" means "letter."
Here I am again, coaxing
At your door, waiting for you to throw confections
out of the window
Trick or Treat… Trick or Treat
I have, up to now, known you to be
benevolent
Always giving me what I want and sometimes much more
But trust does not come easy
on this side of the glass
I want to confess something to you
I hope this doesn’t damage Us
Yes, I called Us, this thing we are doing,
an Us, is that ok?
I’m afraid I haven’t given you what you need
Does that make any sense?
Instead of bringing you Walt Whitman
I show up with Walt Disney
Instead of Robert Bly
I bring you Rob Lowe
What I’m trying to say
is I may have brought us down.
I worry, I’m sure you feel this,
and oh I hate to say this,
that your ability is not as it once was.
Maybe I’m wrong?
I hope I am.
I have noticed one thing, as I struggle to change
the tone and the tenor and the vibe and the feeling and the spirit of this letter
Is that you don’t let me down with knowing where to go next.
So perhaps as I reflect in this Epistolary
(and yes, there we see a new kind of diet emerging)
we will venture forth as Us
Using our diet full of sweets as our starting point
and maybe even our ending point
how can we really know?
I will work on Trusting.
And, here I turn again and ask you,
can you work on Focus?
Sometimes this new diet does seem bland
or boring or dense or impenetrable or impossible or tiresome or irksome even
but I have the feeling we need to keep ingesting it, albeit slowly.
I have no expectations,
and let’s make this clear here as we make this stop along the way,
I have no imagination of becoming who We aren’t.
What I want, and it is really fairly simple,
is to make something that someone else, who isn’t Us,
might call Beautiful. And maybe I also want Us to call it Beautiful.
Not all the time, mind you.
But sometimes, or even once.
There is really so much to learn.
I’m seeing it all as a great adventure.
Maybe here I can close with this -
I am glad you are my partner.
I can imagine no better traveling companion as you.
I’m sure we will stumble, we have many times.
But we will keep going and
because I know how We are together,
we will have some fun doing it.
The Villanelle
I am working on learning different forms of poetry. Here are two poems that are written in a structure called a Villanelle.
The Truth of We
There is a matter dear to me
Tender purpose I hold close
A place others do not see
Setting aside my own warm tea
To make the meal loved most
There is a matter dear to me
Stopping to tend the growing weeds
I allow occasional boast
A place others do not see
Listening to unvoiced needs
I see a long past ghost
There is a matter dear to me
Watching for the urge to flee
I reach for inside post
A place others do not see
Hoping for the truth of we
To invite my heart to host
There is a matter dear to me
A place others do not see
Lick of Madness
Lick of madness, rough worn tongue
Words have claws and bite
Smoke of sadness, overcome
Return again to be stung
Hold shoulders tight
Lick of madness, rough worn tongue
Knife of malice, slice and hum
Letters twist out of sight
Smoke of sadness, overcome
Endure days, lowest rung
Do not dare to fight
Lick of madness, rough worn tongue
Quiet sorrow never sung
Retreat day and night
Smoke of sadness, overcome
Breathe it now from your own lung
The wettest form of fright
Lick of madness, rough worn tongue
Smoke of sadness, overcome