Tag: W3

poetry

Hip Pain Sucks

Sally11 Comments

When I rise up from sitting down to standing
My hip protests, “No! No! You can’t do that!”
But I’m active — and I’m sick of where I’ve sat
I actually love the physically demanding!
My hip protests, “No! No! You can’t do that”
When I rise up from sitting down to standing

This was a tough challenge for me! The W3 challenge this week is to write a biolet. A biolet is a six line poem in which the first two lines are repeated as the last two lines, however in reverse. The rhyme scheme can be expressed as ABbaBA (with the capital letters representing the repeated lines).

Additionally, Sadje challenged us to use the theme of love/hate. I love being physically active. I hate the way this stupid hip pain is keeping me from being as active as I usually am.

poetry

Kittens?

Sally9 Comments

It hit me when I saw them play
That fuzzy tumbling adorable ballet
Of baby animals. I was smitten
But — they’re just a kittens!

Okay — not kittens. Tiny webbed feet
Downy feathers, little bills, complete
The picture — Gosh! I’m smitten!
They COULD be a kittens

Actually, I could call them a litter
But they’re a brood, all a-skitter
In the lake. I’m smitten
But no — not kittens!

These ducklings make me laugh and smile
No agenda. No politics. No guile.
Just joyful play. I was as smitten
As if they were kittens.

I’ve been swimming in the lake. Of course, I can’t take pictures of the ducklings while I’m swimming, but sometimes when I see them, all I think is that they’re just like kittens — except they don’t have fur and claws and whiskers. Instead they have fuzzy feathers, webbed feet and bills. Other than that they’re pretty much exactly the same.

This is in response to David’s W3 prompt to write a poem about something that amuses you. Ducklings amuse me. So do kittens.

poetry

The Story of a Clock

Sally17 Comments

There once was a clock FULL of faces
In a restaurant — sheesh — of all places
So loud and so rude
While folks ate their food
Non-existent was homeostasis

So the chef there (whose name was Bill)
Finally reached his fill
Of its public emotions
(louder than oceans)
That he “accidentally” dropped it on the grill

As the clock sizzled and screamed
Bill literally stood by and beamed
Ahh — peace at last
(It happened quite fast!)
Ambiance returned, redeemed

Well, look at me — whipping a limerick or three on the day the prompt was posted.

This is in response to the W3 prompt — and what a great one it is! — to write a limerick based on the photo prompt.

poetry

(not really) a Cento

Sally11 Comments

i have never traveled

So much depends
Upon
The fog
a ribbon of moonlight
the dew on the morning grass
the snow carefully everywhere descending

somewhere, gladly beyond
a smaller gift — not the worn truth
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
the world offers itself to your imagination

Line 1 and Line 8 — e.e. cummings — together these two lines make one complete line “somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond”

Lines 2 and 3 from a William Carlos Williams’ poem that nobody understands but is forced on high school students across the USA.

Line 4 Carl Sandburg — first line of the first poem I remember intentionally memorizing

Line 5 Alfred Noyes — not a full line, but from The Highwayman, the first poem I voluntarily memorized just because I liked it and was smitten by the tragedy of the story. Anne of Green Gables also memorized it, but I didn’t even know AoGG existed at the time.

Line 6 Billy Collins — not a full line, but from Litany — just a poem I love

Line 7 e.e. cummings again

Line 9 also Billy Collins — not a full line, but from The Lanyard — a poem one of my sons sent me for Mother’s Day one year.

Line 10 e.e. cummings — I LOVE e.e. cummings

Line 11 Mary Oliver — not a full line from Wild Geese — a poem one of my sons read at my father’s funeral

A weak attempt at the W3 prompt this week: Write a Cento on the them of Love.

A cento is a poem formed of lines from poems written by others. I didn’t use whole lines most of the time.

poetry · swimming

Where I learned to swim

Sally12 Comments

Those twenty
Yards – chlorinated plenty –
Were my haven after school.
Cool

Wet refuge
After the social deluge
Of people pressure and the strife —
Life!

Yes, water
Is life-giving. The hotter
The peer interaction hash
[splash]

The increase
In joy! To dive in, release
All the heavy weary stress –
Yes!

Go swimming!
When your day has been brimming
With all life’s too-muchness – get
Wet.

This is my response to the W3 prompt this week which is to compose an ekphrastic poem inspired by any image of a body of water (ocean, waterfall, lake, etc.). The Poet of the Week (Sarah David) also wanted us to include the image that served as inspiration.

The photo is from the pool where I learned to swim. The pool itself is long gone, converted into office space. When I walk past that building, I try to remember what is was like inside, but it’s a struggle. I can’t picture the pool.

Then, I found that photo in an old yearbook at a used bookstore. The picture is at least 15 years older than I am, but the memories that flooded over me when I saw it — well, let’s just say I HAD to buy that yearbook for a ridiculous price for that one picture. That pool was such a happy place for me.

The poem is an Irish form called Deibide Baise Fri Toin. It’s made up of quatrains with an aabb rhyme scheme. Syllable count 3-7-7-1. Lines one and two rhyme on a two-syllable word; lines three and four rhyme on a monosyllabic word.

poetry

Fireflies

Sally12 Comments

At the first blink of a firefly in the backyard, we run outside. One blip is followed by two, then six. Soon the whole yard is a-twinkle with stringless winged fairy lights that we try to catch because surely a jarful would light up a whole room.

Such a plain beetle
Wings folded, frankly boring
Then magic begins

This is my response to the W3 prompt this week which is to write a haibun, use onomatopoeia three times, use the theme of “The Beauty of Night.”

A haibun is a new form for me. It combines prose and haiku. I’m not 100% sure I did it right.

Onomatopoeia — blink, blip, twinkle — I hope they count.

The Beauty of Night — bioluminescence is amazing and beautiful, right?

poetry

Sweet Dream

Sally8 Comments

If I
Can just be still
It’s possible I’ll have
The needed peace/quiet for a
Sweet dream

This is my response to the W3 prompt for this week — to write a Golden Shovel poem. A Golden Shovel requires that the end word of each line form another author’s poem or quote. In my case, this is a very well-known quote from Martin Luther King, Jr, from a speech he gave in August 1963 — his “I Have a Dream” speech.

He repeats those words seven times — I have a dream; I have a dream; I have a dream; I have a dream; I have a dream; I have a dream; I have a dream.

But he begins that segment of the speech with these words, “So even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream.” I like the word “still” in there.

This is a Cinquain. Each line has a set syllable count: 2-4-6-8-2

The poem really has nothing to do with the quote.

poetry

Musings on a Spiral

Sally11 Comments

who
can
resist
a spiral
laid in the pavement!
To walk heel-toe heel-toe around
the pattern carefully laid in brick in the courtyard

in
my
mind, it
was spiral —
faulty memory
that I have — when I looked it up
It was a mere labyrinth (as if that could be mere)

which
one
would prove
the harder
to build? A spiral?
Or a labyrinth? I would guess
The harder one to spell is the easier to build

This is my response to this week’s W3 Challenge which is:

  • FORM: Compose a ‘Fib’ poem(created by Gregory K. Pincus), which is a six-line poem of 1,1,2,3,5,8 syllables).
    • VARIATIONS:
      1. Write as few or as many lines as you wish, as long as your syllable count is based upon the Fibonacci Sequence (1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, etc.).
      2. You may write more than one stanza, repeating the amount of lines of your first stanza.
  • THEME: Write about a spiral; spiral shapes in nature or art, or perhaps a more figurative or metaphorical spiral.

I was thinking about when I had been in Bayeux, France in 2017. One day, I had gone for a walk with my brother and sister. We found this labryinth:

It’s where my mind went when I read the prompt — but it’s clearly NOT a Fibonacci spiral.

poetry

Unrequited Love

Sally26 Comments

She walks into the room
She does a little scan
And chooses me, not the man
I see the darkest gloom
That no light can illume
Settle. And so it began
This had not been his plan
Oh, the doom! the doom!

He directs his kisses
Toward her, calling, beckoning
Come sit with me! Let’s chat!
Every advance, though, misses —
It’s a rude, rude reckoning
But who can understand a cat?

This is my response to the W3 prompt this week:

Compose a modified Italian sonnet with the following specifications:
Theme: unrequited love
Length: 14 lines
Stanzas: two stanzas (an octet and a sestet)
Meter:not required (this is why it’s a ‘modified’ Italian sonnet)
Rhyme: ABBAABBA CDECDE

This is based on a true story. What can I say? The cat liked me.

poetry

Editing

Sally16 Comments

Remeber
[back-back-back] mber
When we used white out
[back-back-back-back] -out
Or the coree
[back-back] rective tape on the typewti
[back-back] riter to fix all the typose
[back] ?

Yeah, well
I’ll bet kids these t
[back] days have no idea of what we went through
Just o
[back] to repair silly mistakes —
Those fat-fingered ones we all make

Now control-Z is my best friend
As well as that back space key

I have yet to figure out how kids type with their thumbs, though.
[back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back-back] on their phoe
[back] nes with their thumbs, though –
And with higher accuracy ta
[back] than I have even though I took a keyboarding class.

Crazy, yes?

This is my response to the W3 prompt this week. Poet-of-the-week Suzanne Brace asked us to: “Compose a poem that conveys ‘Movement’, using repetition to move your ideas and imagery forward.”

However, I didn’t move forward. Pretty sure I was doing a lot of moving backward.