Author Archives: Kat Myrman

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 4 June 2017

There is little one can say the morning after another round of hate-filled violence. When one of us suffers, we all do, be it at the hands of terrorists or nature herself as she burns and heaves from our neglect and abuse. Blessings and peace to our friends in the UK.

Certain oligarchs may try to separate our nation from the world community, but they do not speak for the majority of us who watch in horror and disgust at their reckless and greedy actions. It’s not important to name him and his ilk. We have seen the likes of them before.

History has proved us resilient in times like these. In our ignorance and refusal to heed the warnings from the past, we may find ourselves doomed to repeat it. But I do cling to the hope that just as our ancestors were able to turn the tide eventually, we too will be able to right the course we are on.

There is still so much goodness and joy in this world. When sorrow looms, remember that we are here because those of good will before us pressed on.

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 4 June 2017

darkest of times
was it reincarnation
she teases her clueless guests
just beyond the lattice weave
like the yin and yang
it was much too soon
but the tempest has no power over memories that emerge in the hearts of those left behind
sinkers dipped in morning brew
how the gullible gobble up lies
vile cesspools called sinkers
we can wish
for healing
we are prisoners
again, we mourn

~kat

A shi sai or ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the shi sai features the words of one writer,providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


Again, we mourn…


Magnetic Poetry Saturday 


A trio of streaming unconscious thought…

we are prisoners
dancing our lives
away in concrete
towers, drinking
coffee to stay
awake

…

sometimes fever
is what is needed
for healing

…

we can wish
away moments
or sit with
them, feeling

~kat

On the last one I challenged myself to use only one screen of words. It was quite a challenge indeed.


Sinker ~ Friday’s Word of the Day Haiku


Happy Friday! Today’s word of the day at dictionary.com is “Sinker”. It’s a fun word. It’s one of those words with several meanings:

1. a weight used to sink a fishing line or sounding line.

2. BASEBALL a pitch that drops markedly as it nears home plate.

3. a type of windsurfing board of insufficient buoyancy to support a person unless moving fast.

4. US a doughnut.

5. A cesspool.

6. a (silver) dollar

7. a person or thing that sinks.

8. a person employed in sinking, as one who sinks shafts.

from Dictionary.com  and the Fine dictionary.

And you might also be familiar with the idiom, “Hook, Line and Sinker”, a fishing term that incorporates three essential pieces of fishing tackle in angling. Also, in English language, the phrase ‘to swallow something “hook, line and sinker” ‘ is an idiomatic expression to describe a situation where a person or group accepts wholesale and uncritically an idea or set of beliefs. (From Wikipedia) .

There isn’t a whole lot to say about its etymology. It is a very popular word with several spikes in usage through time based on its application. It pretty much means what it implies in all of its incarnations…something that sinks, as in drops or dips low. I have a few Haiku for you today. Have a great weekend!

underground stinkers
vile cesspools called sinkers
an oligarch’s den

hook, line and sinker
how the gullible gobble up lies
of a deceiver

sweetens the palate
sinkers dipped in morning brew
AKA donuts

~kat


Octo-Cat

For Sonya’s Three Line Tale Challenge based on this photo by Timothy Meinberg via Unsplash.


He showed up at their front door one stormy night, flea-ridden, battle-worn, sopping wet and one who had likely used up at least eight of his nine lives.

They called him Scamp, took him in as one of their own, gave him the finest food and a plush pillow to sleep on.

But the old Tom could not be domesticated, escaping often the comfort and safety of home to roam the docks where he had his fill of fish guts and the salty taste of freedom.

~kat