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| Image courtesy of E2NZ |
Street Baseball
Broken glass
lying in the street
means one thing,
just one thing:
I hit a huge line drive. Now...
you have no windshield.
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Today, I'm going to be posting a bunch of poems. The above Shadorma was written in response to two different prompts by Big Tent Poetry: 1.) write about a broken window, and 2.) write about something that no longer exists. If you want to be picky, I suppose the window in my poem does actually still exist, but instead of one large piece of glass (ie the windshield) attached to the car, now there are lots of little tiny windshields which have been (for lack of a better term) set free.
Magpie Tales provided a photographic prompt of a glass of ruby colored liquid sitting on a marble surface. Inspired by the Shadormas I saw on Reflections' and Jinksy's sties yesterday, I wrote yet another one:
Vintage Shadorma
A wine glass
holds many secrets
one unlocks
with a sip,
but beware: one secret, like
one sip, leads to more.
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And finally, Poetic Asides. The prompt (a two-fer for Tuesday) was to write a poem in poetic form and/or not (ie anti-form.)
Pro-Forma Shadorma
The pressure
from having to write
a poem
on each day
for a full thirty days is
undeniable.
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De-Versify
Poems written in free verse
on metric scale are simply worse
than any rhyme. They are a curse.
But if you still would wish to nurse
your muse, instead of the other way ‘round, you can write whatever you want to write then without worryorfearofthosenastyrhymesandemetricswhicharesuchapainintheyouknowwhat.
Rebut?
Poems written in free verse
on metric scale are simply worse
than any rhyme. They are a curse.
But if you still would wish to nurse
your muse, instead of the other way ‘round, you can write whatever you want to write then without worryorfearofthosenastyrhymesandemetricswhicharesuchapainintheyouknowwhat.
Rebut?
###
Couplet
Anti-form is not the norm
for poetry that’s penned by me.
Anti-form is not the norm
for poetry that’s penned by me.
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