Milling About

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
The Maid of the Mill/Helen Kendrick Johnson, 1900
Public Domain

Homecoming

It’s been nearly fifty years since I’ve been to this old mill.

And yet, those past fifty years rushed right by me.  In a heartbeat,

whirling dust and wood and dappled sunlight streaked, until

everything including time ceased, as I glanced at an uneven bit of floorboard.

It’s where I left a note for you, with all the words my heart could spill.

I pledged my teenaged love to you and agreed we could run away.

But then you never replied. Your voice was silent, still.

So I lifted the board, and with a special sadness, saw the yellowed vellum sheet…

timing is everything, or what you will.

###

The form is Magic 9.
The poem was inspired by Sepia Saturday's prompt of

CanaLife

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
A Venice Canal, 1868/Eugenio Lucas Velazquez (1817-1870)
Public Domain

Canaliculi

What secrets bridge the span as they stand, bestridden

across the damp, ancient sandstone façade?

While the view may appear handsome, it is still forbidden,

since its face, its veneer, remains impenetrable and unsolvable.

Perhaps, in the aged mortar, someone slid in

a secret message or a cipher,

locked within the seams because that person didn’t

want the significance known by man or god,

and so, for all eternity, it shall remain hidden. 

###

Notes: The form is Magic 9, a very fun, addicting form.  It was recently featured at Poetic Asides, as the latest in their Forms Challenges.  The poem was inspired by Sepia Saturday's picture prompt: 

Can't Hide

Untitled/TurgoArt (Turgo Bastien)/public domain/Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Can’t Hide

“Like a church bell, a coffin, and a vat of melted chocolate, a supply closet is rarely a comfortable place to hide.” ― Lemony Snicket, The Blank Book

                                            

‘Twas lookin’ for a place to hide

right after one late night joyride.

But nothin’ worked.  Still in plain sight.

A bell can’t shade a bright headlight.

We knew we were in trouble ‘cause

we broke some laws.  At least, a clause

or two.  Think they will expedite

the coffins?  Damn! A bright headlight.

So Jerry tried to run.  Not me.

Was snagged by Officer McGee.

And choc or closet?  Full of spite.
Can’t hide when lit by bright headlight.

###

Form: Kyrielle.  Inspired by Poetic Asides' Wednesday prompt of 'hiding.'

Fand

photo by Caroline Knopf, image courtesy of Magpie Tales

Fand

Her gilded coat is shiny with

a touch of brine, a touch of myth.

And really, does she stand at guard

with pointed pike and heart so hard?

Or does she honestly reflect

the rocky coast?  Her cheek is flecked

with tears and spray.  Her calling card

is pointed pike and heart so hard.

However, she is just a wraith

who once upon a time had faith.

She’s now at sea: her own churchyard.

No pointed pike; her heart’s the shard.

###

The form is Kyrielle.  The inspiration is based on the photograph above, as graciously provided for by Magpie Tales.  The poem, in turn, is about Fand, a fantastic seabird/woman from the tales of Irish mythology.

Choices

On the Pont de l’Europe by Gustave Caillebotte, public domain. Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Asked and Answered

“Which would you rather be if you had the choice--divinely beautiful or dazzlingly clever or angelically good?” ― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

It is a question, I suppose.

Three choices: what to choose of those.

I don’t think I’ll reply too fast.

The implications might well last.

So, beautiful.  Would that I’d see

a thing divine.  Could that be me?

And clever.  Let me but contrast

the implications.  Might well last.

I think I’m good, ‘though angel-ish?

I doubt it.  Should that be my wish?

I fear I’m at a strong impasse.
Thus, I won’t choose just one, at last.

###

The form is Kyrielle.  The poem was inspired by the Wednesday Poetic Asides' prompt of 'At Last.'

Lego My SnowPlow - An Ovillejo Thing

Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.  Public Domain.  Edited for content.

On this very blizzardly (is that a word?) day, I decided to write a few more Ovillejo poems.  Over at Poetic Asides, the prompt this week was to write a Persona Poem.  I penned two of them, with two very different voices.  That should, hopefully explain the weird, doctored picture, above.

Ovillejo for a Snow Plow Driver

The snow was piling high.

That’s why

with plow, I soon ‘decapped’

(it snapped!)

some mailbox from its post,

almost.

The owner yelled, “You’re toast!”

He witnessed my mistake.

I didn’t swerve or brake.
That’s why it snapped, almost.

###

Mom Who Steps on a Lego Piece in Her Bare Feet

O anguish on my rug! 

It dug

into my poor bare sole,

a hole

that was quite vast, it seemed.

I screamed.

Yes, Legos double teamed.

But what can you expect?

My foot was sorely wrecked!

It dug a hole.  I screamed.

###

And now, I guess I'll go back to bingewatching television.  Stay warm, dry and safe.

Shopping Around

Fashion Store by August Macke/December 31, 1913/Public Domain per Wikimedia Commons

Edit:

I was informed, and rightly so, that I made a structural error to my verse (see the first version, at the bottom of this post below.)  Now, I admit to breaking poetic rules on occasion, but you gotta know the rules to break 'em.  And 'though I've written a number of Ovijello poems in the past, I forgot a key/signature element to this form.  I humbly apologize for my careless error.  That's what comes from writing in haste when one is tired, and full of hubris.

Here is the revised version of my poem.

It’s in the Cards

My credit cards await

their fate

which is to spend the max

at Saks

and other fancy shops

with stops

to buy some shoes and tops,

a handbag, lipstick, jewels.

No limit and no rules.
Their fate at Saks, with stops…

###

My brilliant poet friend De Miller Jackson is currently curating the Ovillejo poem form at dVerse. It's a really fun but challenging form, and since she rather cleverly dropped my name over on Facebook with regard to such things, I decided to play along.

Here's my entry:

Props

My credit cards await

their fate

which is to spend the max

at Saks

and other fancy shops

with stops

to buy some shoes and tops,

a handbag, lipstick, jewels…

No limit and no rules.
Ya gotta have your props.

###

Anyway, as you can see, I've obviously been away from my blog for a while, and whilst I make no promises presently, I figure it's all for creativity, and that is generally a very good thing.