Tag Archives: Poetry

labyrinth – NaPoWriMo 2019 #24

labyrinth

the path meanders
weaves to the heart, returning
to the beginning

~kat


For NaPoWriMo 2019 Prompt #24: write a poem that, like “Dictionary Illustrations,” is inspired by a reference book. Locate a dictionary, thesaurus, or encyclopedia, open it at random, and consider the two pages in front of you to be your inspirational playground for the day. Maybe a strange word will catch your eye, or perhaps the mishmash of information will provide you with the germ of a poem.

Work was a monster today…I had hoped to write a poem over lunch, but…I did not get lunch! I did manage to snap a photo of the random page I found when I opened the dictionary. My eyes settled upon the word Labyrinth. I have walked many a labyrinth in my life, and I think the universe is telling me I need to find another one to lose myself in. The truth is you can never really get lost in a true labyrinth, but the you who enters is never the same you that comes out. Namasté. ☯️

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domesticated – NaPoWriMo #23

domesticated

my fierce predator, roams the halls at night
seeking prey, a twisty tie, dust bunnies,
wayward crickets, balls of yarn,
lying there catching sunbeams
i watch him sleep, dreaming
of mice that got away

~kat


A Kimo Poem for NaPoWriMo 2019 Prompt #23: write a poem about an animal.


Kimo Poems

Kimo poems are an Israeli version of haiku. Apparently, there was a need for more syllables in Hebrew. That said, most of the rules are still familiar:
• 3 lines.
• No rhymes.
• 10 syllables in the first line, 7 in the second, and 6 in the third.
Also, the kimo is focused on a single frozen image (kind of like a snapshot). So it’s uncommon to have any movement happening in kimo poems.

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in parting ~ Monday with the Muse

in parting…

take this
in parting
you are wrong
my dream
has flown away
a vision gone
we stand
tormented
grains of sand
they creep
through fingers
while I weep
I grasp them,
can not save
one from the wave

~kat


A Blackout Poem inspired by words found in the poem below, A Dream Within a Dream by Edgar Allen Poe.

A Dream Within a Dream
BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow —
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone? 
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand —
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep — while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?


on the shelf – MLMM

antiques-2

on the shelf

you barely notice him there
shadowed face, darkened, looming
in the mirror, whispering tales of
masked heroes, of brilliant valor
old as wheels and of damsels not
distressed, save for the sting
of fearful, pursed lips flapping,
judgment over fabricated scandals,
pants not dresses worn, oh there
are tomes stacked high as heels
spitting lies of petulant patriarchs,
women have their place, they bark,
captured on celluloid, idolized but
muted objects on a shelf, no self for
selflessness, ignored, she feels the sun
at her back, his shadow growing
longer, looming in the mirror
barely noticed there, barely worth
noticing, from plastic eyes she stares

~kat

For Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie’s Sunday Writing Prompt: Choose an Antique.

 


slaugtercoop 9…to 5 – NaPoWriMo #21

slaugtercoop 9…to 5

the chickens labour every day, nested in
cubicles underneath a hundred fluorescent,
strobing suns, pecking furiously on keyboards
to lay a golden egg, to stay the axe, trading
this frying pan for that, no relief, save sips of
sludge where coffee beans and crushed tea
leaves weep into styrofoam cups, sweet with
cane and cream; mindful of the cock, or is it
the clock, clucking slowly dawn to dusking
night where dreams are scrambled, slimy
clarity oozing midst congealed pabulum,
ultimately fed to swine, who pay no mind to
treasure, calling it slop; they don’t treat cows
this way, allowed to nosh in fields of clover
before sucking their swollen teats dry, cash
flowing into buckets, kicked by gluttonous
overlords demanding more and more, the
cock is crowing, wolves and buzzards pace
while headless chickens race around like rats

~kat

For NaPoWriMo 2019 Prompt #21: write a poem that incorporates wild, surreal images. Try to play around with writing that doesn’t make formal sense, but which engages all the senses and involves dream-logic.