white, wispy flecks blow
covering my window
thank goodness it’s not snow, blooms in flight
~kat
Seriously! At first glance the flower petals adrift on my way into work give me a start, but then I realized it was not snow. This is Florescence #3 for Jane Dougherty’s Daily Poem challenge.
Photo from Pinterest
The Battle is Real – A Cleave Poem (see below for instructions on reading a Cleave*)
you know you want to / oh, I really shouldn’t
no one will notice / but it’s my favorite
just go for it while no one’s looking / of course I can’t; I won’t
you know what they say / the guilt would kill me
better to ask for forgiveness / all it would take is one look at my face
than beg for permission / and they’d know it was me
so go ahead / just walk away from the table
take that last cookie / you don’t need the calories
it’s calling your name / let someone else
savor every sweet bite / eat the last cookie
somebody has to / you have manners after all
might as well be you / there is reward in doing the right thing
~kat
For Day 2 of NaPoWriMo 2018’s Challenge. Prompt: write a poem that plays with voice.
This is an example the battle that happens inside my head between “good me” and “naughty me”. I thought a cleave poem would be the perfect format.
*Read it top to bottom three times, column one first, then column two, and finally the entire line across.
we could learn a few things
from bolshie blooms of spring
amidst frost’s icy sting, reverie
~kat
Day 2’s Florescence for Jane Dougherty’s Daily Florescence Challenge.
Day Three of my Three Day Quote Challenge…Quotes about Writing…saving the best for last with this delicious quote from Anais Nin…
So, the rules are
1. Thank the person who nominated you…Thank you Willow <3.
2. Post a quote for three consecutive days (1 quote for each day).
3. Nominate three bloggers each day:
1) Peter at Peter’s Pondering
2) Jan at Strange Goings on in the Shed
3) Michael at Morpethroad
Photo by ninocare at pixabay.com
Ode to a Few Books
There is nothing quite like a book,
hardback, leather or paperbound,
piled high wherever I look,
authors obscure and some, renowned.
Words on fine parchment, glossy, matte,
dog-eared pages to keep my place;
a cup of tea, a purring cat,
a book or two’s, my happy place.
Cases filled to overflowing,
floor to ceiling and wall to wall,
my collection’s ever-growing;
I need more shelves to store them all.
I’ve been told it’s an addiction.
The “h” word, hoarder, has been used.
Tomes of poetry and fiction,
my only vice should be excused.
Every volume is a treasure.
I can’t part with a single one.
Spare me this incessant pressure,
bury them with me when I’m gone!
~kat
Day 1 of NaPoWriMo 2018’s Challenge. Prompt: To write a poem that is based on a secret shame or a secret pleasure.
like mercury colliding... 