literally anyone... what is it about bananas and why are they so special
oh i can list a few reasons how do i love thee, fair banana...
almost ripe, firm, smooth on the tongue, a tinge of green, bittersweet
in smoothies, puddings and in muffins and cakes and
quick breads (warm from the oven, sliced thick, slathered with fresh butter) too, long, lean, and luscious, perfect
to eat raw, sliced or mashed, to take along anywhere
already wrapped, delightful to peel such a fine fruit...the banana
who wouldn’t love them
~kat ———————- For NaPoWriMo2021 Challenge - Day 5: Find a poem, and then write a new poem that has the shape of the original, and in which every line starts with the first letter of the corresponding line in the original poem. I chose Rita Dove’s poem, “Flirtation” (see below).
Flirtation BY RITA DOVE After all, there’s no need to say anything
at first. An orange, peeled and quartered, flares
like a tulip on a wedgewood plate Anything can happen.
Hello dearies...it’s been a long dry spell, with only intermittent blips of light peeking through the dark of winter...and me taking time to breathe after holding my breath for so long. I have missed this place and you, and the Muse has been an elusive imp for several seasons now, giddy I suspect with the woods that surround my house and weary of my rote tiny existence behind these walls of COVID-induced shelter.
You may have heard. We had an election here in the US. Sanity won, but only by a heartbeat. The losers, sore and swift to cry foul, attempted a coup, failing, still loom, waiting for their golden god’s next marching orders. I am happy to say that I am learning to breathe again...big breath in...big breath out...my head filling again with words, tossing around and jumbled, ready for the picking. It feels good to be back...slowly but surely I am.
Sunday’s Long Overdue, Long-Winded ReVerse Poem - 4 April 2021
and me breathing... thank you dear strangers do not linger compassion prevailed their footprints in the dust long disbursed to the wind age of Aquarius dawning tick tock tick full cold moon on ice wash away the pain when the air swelled, when time shifted, words upon beautiful words whispering, the clouds fell to earth tonight it shouldn’t surprise us how you dance with the wind when tempests roar my weary bones need no persuading; liberated only in name bound in symmetry here on the brink only to be nipped now heartless, empty weary of promises, promises impossible to keep the irony of it not lost
~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 over time. I use it as a review of the previous week...or in this case, the past several months.
people were asleep when tragedy erupted no rest to be found
for the woke, yet another cause to engage the masses, stir hearts invite others to do their part the irony of it not lost on those who paid the heavy cost misfortune used by profiteers will fill their pockets spreading fear so champions with motives pure are swallowed in the noise, obscured the reason for their angst, not clear
let them take the streets break out the crazies near and far to disturb the peace
~kat
For Ronovan’s Challenges this week, a few Haiku, prompt words Comfort & Erupt, and a Décima, prompt word Cause - A-Line Rhyme. THE QUICK DESCRIPTION OF HOW TO WRITE A DÉCIMA: 1. There are 10 lines of poetry that rhyme. 2. 8 syllables per line. 3. There is a SET RHYMING PATTERN we must stick to. ABBAACCDDC OR two stanzas of ABBA/ACCDDC.
they never returned, even with faces masked, big screens, media rooms and sound bars had saved them from having to cram themselves into uncomfortable seats, elbow to elbow with strangers, potentially dangerous, infested with deadly viruses or worse, brandishing assault rifles, the noisy demons in their heads begging to be slaughtered in the bloodletting of innocents...no, they weren’t going back. renovations could not disinfect the crazy, protect them from the madness, for they had grown comfortable in their shelters, unwilling to risk contact with deplorables, cult crazed zombies, veins boiling with infection and hate... it’s been years now, since these doors were shuttered, renovations teased on a tattered marquee, the people had long grown weary of promises, promises impossible to keep
~kat
NaPoWriMo2021 - Day 4 Challenge: Select a photograph from the perpetually disconcerting @SpaceLiminalBot, and write a poem inspired by one of these odd, in-transition spaces.
on the forest floor lies the shell of an old tree stubbly roots exposed, its core now heartless, empty grist for grubs, in death humility
~kat
For NaPoWriMo 2021 - Day 3...Off topic, but I promise to work on my personal deck. It seems like a worthwhile project to inspire future poetry. For today...a Horatiodet (my own short version of the Horatian Ode...a Form i came up with when i was doing daily micropoetry.) A Horatiodet is a total of 5 lines, syllable count: 5-7-7-5-9 / rhyme scheme: ababb. In other words, it is a short Horatian Ode (only one stanza), a form based on the style of Horace, Quintus Horatius Flaccus (December 8, 65 BC – November 27, 8 BC), the leading Roman lyric poet.
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!
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like mercury colliding... 