Monthly Archives: August 2019

Oviellejo #6

“do something! do something!” they chant,
to sycophants

who hide behind the party line
biding their time

hoping this current rage will pass
it never lasts

tomorrow’s news will out-broadcast
this breaking tide just like before
until the people cry, “no more!”
to sycophants, biding their time…it never lasts

~kat


The Oviellejo is an Old Spanish verse form (derived from ovillo, a ball of yarn). A stanza consists of 10 lines, with a rhyme scheme of AABBCCCDDC. The second line of each rhyme scheme, Line 2,4,6, is short line of up to 5 syllables. The last line is a “redondilla,” a “little round” that collects all three of the short lines.


Oviellejo #5

when I am hanging by a thread
heart filled with dread

on darkest days, and longest nights
I seek the light

where shadows fall away from view
it helps me through

I think about what’s good and true
this life is not about extremes
for those who hope and dare to dream
heart filled with dread, I seek the light, it helps me through

~kat


The Oviellejo is an Old Spanish verse form (derived from ovillo, a ball of yarn). A stanza consists of 10 lines, with a rhyme scheme of AABBCCCDDC. The second line of each rhyme scheme, Line 2,4,6, is short line of up to 5 syllables. The last line is a “redondilla,” a “little round” that collects all three of the short lines.


Tired

Hello all. I know I’m behind in my daily poems and I have yet to read and comment on your lovely Twittering Tales. I promise to get to them soon. But I have worked a total of 20 hours in the last few days an I am exhausted! I’ll leave you with this…a few snapshots of my world away from my cubical…the creatures that greet me when I come home every night…have a lovely night. ❤️


Twittering Tales #148 – August 6, 2019

About the challenge: Each Tuesday I will provide a photo prompt. Your mission, if you choose to accept the challenge, is to tell a story in 280 characters or less. When you write your tale, be sure to let me know in the comments with a link to your tale. This is important as I have noticed that some of the ping backs have not been working. If you would prefer to post your tale in the comments (some people have very specific blog themes but still want to participate), I am happy to post a link to your site when I post your tale in the Round Up.

A final note: if you need help tracking the number of characters in your story, there is a nifty online tool that will count for you at charactercountonline.com.

I will do a roundup each Tuesday, along with providing a new prompt. And if for some reason I missed your entry in the Roundup, as I have occasionally done, please let me know. I want to be sure to include your tale.

Finally, have fun!


Twittering Tales #147 -The Roundup

beach-4365491_1280

Photo by enriquelopezgarre at Pixabay.com

Starting us off…
Toast
foolish naysayers will cry
thinning ozone is a lie
they boast global warming’s a hoax
but the mercury’s rising
polar ice caps are melting
the sea’s swelling over the coast
people gathering in droves
strip off all of their clothes
sizzling on sand bars like toast
~kat
254 Characters

By Lisa at Tao Talk:
Ants
Crom, an interstellar vagabond parasite, was told to, “Get out of Dodge” with an uncanny regularity.
Crom entered the Milky Way and saw edible bugs on Earth. As a shape shifter, he became clouds and waited to guzzle. Today his huge nozzle lowered; he began to eat the “ants.”
[276 characters]

By Tien at From the Window Seat:
Group Think
The long weekend holidays were here so they took half day off from work. They thought they set off early enough to beat the holiday crowd.
They thought wrong.
The beach was packed when they reached.
Everyone else had the same idea too.
Humankind was not any different from sardines.
(280 characters)

By Graham at Graham is Just My Name:
THE SEASIDE
I savour my morning coffee and watch the news.
Childhood memories return of the seaside; sand-castles, vanilla ice-cream, and donkey rides.
Now you wouldn’t see me dead in those crowds. It looks like somewhere in hell.
The twins bounce in excitedly.
Can we go to the seaside Daddy?
(277 characters)

By Fandango at This, That, and the Other:
Second Honeymoon
Honey, what’s wrong? I thought you’d be thrilled.
This is not what I expected when you said you wanted to take me on a romantic second honeymoon.
But, baby, this is one of the most popular beach resorts in the world.
Yes, and one of the most crowded. Where’s the romance in that?
(276 characters)

By Bear at Jellico’s Writing Nook:
The Photo
‘Found this in the ruins.’ He stared at the picture. ‘Humans; half-naked. Wonder if it’s some kind of religious ceremony?’
‘Don’t know, don’t care. Just throw it in the burn pile already.’
‘Yeah, sure.’ He turned as if to comply, then deftly slipped it into his pocket.
CC: 267

By Larry at East Elmhurst A Go Go:
The Odds Are You Won’t Live to See Tomorrow
“I feel like Patrick McGoohan’s John Drake character in ‘Secret Agent,’ ” Al told Fred. “Drinking, womanizing.” “Remember one catch though,” his friend said. “That line in the Johnny Rivers song is ‘swingin’ on the Riviera one day, then layin’ in a Bombay alley next day.’
(278 characters)

By Di at Pensitivity101:
“You’re joking, right? I mean, we live within a stone’s throw of a clean sandy beach.
We can swim or sunbathe without having to fight for space.
What the hell possessed you ????”
‘It was free,’ he said sheepishly.
210 characters


grief repeating – Monday with the Muse

BlueMuse

Painting, “Blue” by Kat Myrman

grief repeating

even now, grief
repeats itself
whispering,
“what hope for
love survives
here”…

some
see only
dusty
reflections
in blue

~kat


A Blackout poem inspired by the poem below “Anne Frank Huis” by Andrew Motion.

Anne Frank Huis
by Andrew Motion
Even now, after twice her lifetime of grief
and anger in the very place, whoever comes
to climb these narrow stairs, discovers how
the bookcase slides aside, then walks through
shadow into sunlit room(s), can never help
 
but break her secrecy again. Just listening
is a kind of guilt: the Westerkirk repeats
itself outside, as if all time worked round
towards her fear, and made each stroke
die down on guarded streets. Imagine it—

four years of whispering, and loneliness,
and plotting, day by day, theAllied line
in Europe with a yellow chalk. What hope
she had for ordinary love and interest
survives her here, displayed above the bed
 
as pictures of her family; some actors;
fashions chosen by Princess Elizabeth.
And those who stoop to see them find
not only patience missing its reward,
but one enduring wish for chances
 
like my own: to leave as simply
as I do, and walk at ease
up dusty tree-lined avenues, or watch
a silent barge come clear of bridges
settling their reflections in the blue canal.

Andrew Motion, “Anne Frank Huis” from Coming In To Land: Selected Poems 1975—2015.  Copyright © 2017 by Andrew Motion.  Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers Inc..
Source: Coming In To Land: Selected Poems 1975—2015 (HarperCollins, 2017)