Saturday, August 11, 2012

Bicycle Built for Two

Image courtesy of Magnificent Revolution

Bicycle Built for Two

Be mine, he said,
Because I love you.  We
Belong together.  This is not
Boutade – oh no,
But rather,
Backdrop for a billion brilliant bons mots…


Notes:  The form is Pleiades.  The poem was inspired by Sepia Saturday's prompt having to do with bicycles and tandem rides, couples, balancing and fun.

Monday, August 6, 2012

Ardent Dance

Image courtesy of WikiCommons Images/Georges Villa - Les Ailes

In a passionate but private moment…

Insulated from the world
I sing a silent song of ancient words.
Is informing all my thoughts.
Images dance by to the ardent music, but like
Icarus, they fall too soon back to earth.


Notes: The poetic form is Pleiades.  It was invented by Craig Tigerman, who was an editor at Sol Magazine.  Sol Magazine was a wonderful poetry publication (and project)  I discovered  several years ago.

My poem was written in response to Khara House's Our Lost Jungles Poetic Forms Challenge.  'Pleiades' is her 6th forms challenge.  The form takes some thought, but it is a lot of fun to write.  I highly recommend it!  

Sunday, May 27, 2012

A Strange Bedfellow

The Tempest: Prospero, Miranda and Ariel, 1976, Rosemarie Beck

Tempest Tossed

“Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. I will here shroud till the
dregs of the storm be past.” ~Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act II, Scene 2

Be careful of the too strong drink.
Beware the potent potable.
With just an innocent-like clink…?
Be careful of the too strong drink.
Strange bedfellows.  Nudge-nudge, wink-wink.
Potential here is notable:
Be careful of the too strong drink.
Beware the potent potable. 


Notes:  Yes, it's another Triolet.  For the merry month of May.  (And yes, that rhymes.)  But anyway...the poem was inspired by the prompt of 'strange bedfellows,' thoughtfully provided for by Sunday Scribblings. Take that, Mickey Finn!

Looking in the Mirror

Image courtesy of Wendy's Life Changing Experiences


I am a word, a phrase…grapheme*.
I’m my own special creation.
No matter how it all must seem
I am a word, a phrase…grapheme.
My face?  It mirrors self-esteem
without rationalization.
I am a word, a phrase…grapheme.
I’m my own special creation.

(*a written symbol that is used to represent speech)


Notes: The form is Triolet.  The poem was inspired by the prompt of 'Walk of Life' from Poetic Bloomings.

Friday, May 25, 2012

At the Market at Ballybricken Green in Waterford, 1910

Image courtesy of Sepia Saturday

At the Market at Ballybricken Green in Waterford, 1910

The tea and coffee van is there.
A day at market.  Cattle roam.
There’s lots of people everywhere.
The tea and coffee van is there.
They’re serving cuppas in the square.
I like my tea with milky foam.
The tea and coffee van is there.
A day at market.  Cattle roam.


Notes:  The poem's form is Triolet.  The photograph seen above is the prompt this week from Sepia Saturday.  They provide some really amazing antique and vintage photos for their prompts.

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Grasset's April

'April' - from Eugène Grasset's Calandrier 'La Belle Jardinière' 1896

Grasset’s April

April’s surely the sweetest time,
where flowers bloom and tendrils climb.
In my mind’s springtime eye, I see
you…with a nosegay of sweet pea.

Meandering rills frame a scene
that’s dotted with pink and soft green
but the fairest of all must be
you…with a nosegay of sweet pea.

And, oh, how I find myself spun
in pastoral dreams, with the sun
spreading its warmth.  Beside a tree:
you…with a nosegay of sweet pea.

O in this garden, by Grasset,
the centerpiece this April day
is just the one who’s dazzingly
you…with a nosegay of sweet pea. 


Notes:  The inspiration for this poem originally came from Sepia Saturday's prompt of a black and white World War II era photograph of some people working in a garden.  Now, as you may have already guessed from earlier posts, I'm a huge fan of the poster art of La Belle Epoque, so this Grasset poster worked really well for the words that were playing in my head.

On another note, most of the other poetry I'm penning this month can be found at Robert Lee Brewer's April PAD Challenge.  In case you might wonder, for the most part, I've 'challenged' myself to write in the form Kyrielle.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Apocalyptically speaking...

Image courtesy of  The Meta Picture

Zombie Apocalypse

“Zombies are people, too.  Okay, dead people with poor grammar skills.” ~Night of the Living Dead

Let’s celebrate apocalypse –
the zombie kind. Here are my tips:
So…one: you moan, and two: eat brains.
Three: Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ reigns.

It’s ‘Doomsday’ – zombies can be found
at Starbucks, Game Stop…all around
the shopping malls and bowling lanes
where Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ reigns.

Their biggest problem? When they talk.
But only zombies rock ‘the walk.’
It’s even better done in chains
‘cause Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ reigns.

Zombies, existentially,
are what the world will zombday be.
If zombies are the last remains,
then Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ reigns. 


Notes:  The form is Kyrielle.  Over at the Poetic Asides PAD Challenge, Day 14's theme is 'Doomsday.'  Well, anyone who knows me knows my poetry typically doesn't want to be a downer. It's meant to be clever and funny (I said 'meant to be', you know) and it's really just shiny, happy people poetry.  


I mean, I have my causes and my rants (and don't get me started, okay?)  But I also believe that life is too short ('though not in a doomsday kind of way, of course) so why not laugh.

After all, the zombies will get you zombday anyway.

Propeller Tales

Image courtesy of

Air Mail

Postmaster, here’s another dime.
Please get my package off in time,
and tell my Bobby, ‘Yes, I’ll wait!
With hugs and kisses.  Love you, Kate.”

This faster service, this ‘air mail’
I hope will, in the end, prevail.
Five cents is worth it. (I’d pay eight.)
With hugs and kisses.  Love you, Kate.”

Dear Bobby, here’s your 'Miss You' box
with goodies like some hand-knit socks.
I’ll gladly pay the extra rate.
With hugs and kisses.  Love you, Kate.”

And so, I’ll wait for your reply
that comes when e’er the mail planes fly
and bring their cargo – precious freight!
With hugs and kisses.  Love you, Kate.”


Image courtesy of asutravelguides

The Swingin’ Stews of 1965

I dream of flying in a plane
to London, Paris or to Spain.
The stews in flight quite happily,
will offer, “Coffee, tea or me?”

The year is sixty-five and I’m
a handsome fella in my prime.
Those swingin’ stews, I guarantee,
will offer, “Coffee, tea or me?”

Up in the clouds, I will applaud
the safety demo.  I’ll act awed.
I know this trick will work.  You’ll see.
They’ll offer, “Coffee, tea or me?”

Perhaps one stew will be ‘the one.’
A guy can dream ‘cause it’s in fun.
But so you know, my choice ain’t tea,
when she says, “Coffee, tea or me?”


Notes:  Sepia Saturday provided the prompt of 'flight.'  So...I looked for some vintage (or vintage-ish) pictures from which I could make a couple of narratives which might reflect the mores and attitudes of the times.  

What's odd about me writing for this theme is that I hate to fly!  Yes, I do fly  - because it's the most expedient way to get to a destination that's way far from home, but the strange thing is that I fly to places with my husband, who has his private pilot's license - because I encouraged him and gave him his first lesson as a gift.

And also, when I was younger, I actually considered a career as a flight attendant ('though not a 'swingin' stew.')