Happy Sunday! I decided to give today’s Reverse time to simmer. When I started it a week ago it just didn’t seem ripe. And in the process of reviewing, I made a few tweaks here and there. Most notably yesterday’s limerick poem which was atrocious in form…where was my head? To save you the trouble of revisiting said disaster, I’ll leave the edited version for you here:
Uncle Ned
Old Uncle Ned, a likable guy was he An affable charmer, the cousins agreed He made the kids laugh For his jokes were quite daft Made us wonder what was in his tea!
At least now it is a proper limerick that actually follows the rules and rhymes!
And secondly, I added a line to my diatribe from Friday, “a brief moment, lost”. As if I didn’t rant enough, there was one more thought left unsaid. You know how that goes, when the floodgates open and you finally unload everything you’ve been holding onto. Then when you walk away there is just one more thing…that “I wish I would had said” moment, but it’s too late. Well, that’s the beauty of the written word. You can edit it. So if you will, indulge me this final word, my “and another thing”. I’m including the context as well to give it full due…
…I have learned to look them straight in the eyes, dare them to objectify me, to present my own ideas, and tell them it’s time to make their own damn coffee… and while they’re at it, bring me mine.
To say that the past several months have taken a toll would be an understatement. But much like the wonder years of being a “mother of 4 under the age of 4…how did I ever do it?”, and later a mother of 4 teenage daughters, I’m finding my stride as a full time official senior citizen, still working full time and now, caring for a spouse who is incapacitated from complications of a major emergency surgery in January. If nothing else I am a survivor. And much to my own surprise I still have plenty of spunk left in me. Life is such a gift! Through it all, I think I needed to be reminded of that.
A ReVerse Poem for Sunday, April 16, 2023
like a nightmare frozen in the sky is it ghosts, god, or me I hear how climactic we dare not want leaving no stained rock unturned I’m just kidding (but you’re thinking I’m not) I’m paying for the demons of your past In waves she sweeps me off my feet it’s on the internet stirring up words, uninspired let’s bring in the cows They lied to us you know. He made the kids laugh
~kat
A ReVerse poem (a practice I started many years ago) 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 ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts.
the fiddler’s playing in the shadow of the moon let’s bring in the cows
~kat
NaPoWriMo2023 Challenge Day 13: try writing a short poem (or a few, if you’re inspired) that follows the beats of a classic joke. Emphasize the interplay between the form of the poem – such as the line breaks – and the punchline.
For this challenge I decided to write a haiku style poem using the magnetic poetry online tool…Nature Kit.
you don’t hear me when I say I love you I’m paying for the demons of your past after all these years, still you have to ask you can’t believe I’ll stay forever true
I wonder if there’s more that I can do to prove my love, or would it be a waste it’s exhausting when my effort is misplaced it’s worth reminding you what we’ve been through
we’ve seen it all, the better and the worst sickness, yours and mine, and family too adversity, met head on, we two pulled through if I had to choose, you know I’d pick you first
so tell me darling dear, do you love me please spare me all this effort, set me free
~kat
I am not a fan of sonnets. But a challenge is a challenge. Chewed on this all day. Obligatory sonnet penned. Glad this is done.
NaPoWriMo2023 Challenge Day Nine: Sunday Sonnet - write your own sonnet. Incorporate tradition as much or as little as you like – while keeping in general to the theme of “love.”
In general, though, here are the main characteristics that define most sonnets: * Number of Lines: 14 * Meter: Typically iambic pentameter * Rhyme Scheme: Petrarchan (abba abba cde cde or abba abba cdc dcd) or Shakespearean (abab cdcd efef gg), among many others * Unique Qualities: Contains a volta (twist or turn) closer to the end of the sonnet * Common Themes: Typically love and romance but also faith, time, personal emotions, and social/political matters
perfect, lifeless boys in the sunshine dead or dying in this new battlefield in schoolhouses here, where guns are business, this country where we dare not want or mention the poison claiming them in such great numbers
too long in this season is blinding us to what we love
~kat
NaPoWriMo2023 Challenge Day 6: off topic today. Just could wrap my brain around the ask. Soooo….It’s been a while since I wrote a blackout poem. I found this stunning poem by Molly McCully Brown. The title grabbed me right away because I live in Virginia. Her words resonated with me and my own experience here. My take after gleaning from her words resulted in another poem right from the current headlines. I wish it wasn’t 😟
October, I’m dragging the dog away from perfect birds lifeless on the pavement. By the water, boyin dress blues with bayonets, the blistered hulls of boxships. Everything is sunshine. Everything is dead, or dying, and this isn’t a new thought. I grew up here, but farther from the ocean. Each April, they took us to the battlefield, marched us in schoolhouse lines up courthouse steps: here is where the war ended. Never mind that it was fall before the final battleship lowered its flag; never mind that we still haven’t fired the last gun. What business do I have wanting a baby here: in this body where I can’t keep my balance, this country wherewe can’t keep anything alive that needs us, or dares not to, not even the switchgrass pale and starved for groundwater? And still, I do want. I search the news formention of the birds, whatever poison or disease I’m sure is claiming them in such great numbers: meadowlarks, house wrens, chickadees, starlings. Once even a gray gull, pulled open at the chest before we found him, hollowed of his organs. It takes a long time—too long— for me to understand the sun in this season is blinding, and the birds are flying into windows all around me, fourteen stories up. Flying into glass and falling. What we love is rarely blameless. Is it a failure that I wouldn’t trade this brightness? I imagine pointing upward for my daughter: Look, there, how it catches in the changing trees.
there once was a shyster named Don a scammer in chief, a vile con to court he was dragged by a porn star he shagged how climactic, his just denouement!
~kat
A limerick today…straight from the headlines! You can’t make this stuff up! I shouldn’t be enjoying this, but I am. I can’t look away. Not sure I captured the theme…but the past few years have been over the top inappropriate. Hoping this brings a little levity to this absurd train wreck!
NaPoWriMo 2023 Challenge Day 5: write a poem in which laughter comes at what might otherwise seem an inappropriate moment – or one that the poem invites the reader to think of as inappropriate.
So it is easier for you to find all the parts/chapters of my ongoing fiction series, I created a new page that lists all the links. You can check it out HERE!
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Kat Myrman and Like Mercury Colliding with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
like mercury colliding... 