despair is like a tidal wave
wreaking havoc in its wake
but peace is a stream
soft flowing, serene
storms abate
if you wait
~kat
Clogyrnach Poems
This Welsh poetic form is typically a six-line syllabic stanza with an ab rhyme scheme:
Line 1: 8 syllables with an a rhyme
Line 2: 8 syllables with an a rhyme
Line 3: 5 syllables with a b rhyme
Line 4: 5 syllables with a b rhyme
Line 5: 3 syllables with a b rhyme
Line 6: 3 syllables with an a rhyme
ode to an aging fragile heart
the icy tip of Reaper’s sickle
lightly tapped her shoulder yesterday
her breathless voices gently whispered,
“winter is coming”, she heard Hel say
oh hush you pounding pitter-patter
elephant dancing upon her chest
it’s just a passing ‘bleeping’ blip
but maybe it’s time for her to rest
let someone else with nose to grindstone
deal with the dread deliverables
the Piper’s fluting, shrill, pricks her ears
background ‘music’ to this crucible
forced to face the inconvenient
unpaid debt now due Mortality,
“it’s much later than you think, my dear”
youth is but a fleeting memory
Shadow follows close, a breath away
she’s not ready to engage Her yet
‘she will survive’, the mantra of her life
drives her in this battle to the death
~kat
NaPoWriMo 2022 - Early-Bird Prompt - I decided to do a rhyming poem that borrows some style quirks from Emily Dickinson and her poem “Because I Could Not Stop Fo Death”.
The artwork is a little something i whipped up in a drawing app on my phone…my canvas is digital these days! ❤️
needlepoint audacity
damn right, hell yeah, she persisted
against their condescending voices
they tried to quiet hers, insisted
that she let them make her choices
smile when they made lewd advances
their vile, lascivious, lustful groping
she persisted, ignored their glances
long-suffering, persistent, hoping
peering at that high glass ceiling
pressing on in grace, in fierceness
legions femme, their voices peeling
me too, locking arms, souls, fearless
mothers, daughters, maidens, crones
the changing tide, the ceiling cracking
in sisterhood, a force worth reckoning
with a vote, they’ll send them packing
rising from the shadows beckoning
persist, it’s time they take their place
to earn the lauds they’re due, respect
to shed those mantles of disgrace
persist, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet
~kat
For today’s NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo Challenge Day 20: write a poem about a handmade or homemade gift that you have received. I chose the empowering, beautiful needlepoint pictured above. Crafted by a kindred soul sister, including my favorite “weed-flowers”: dandelions, capeweed, henbit, speedwell.
A Life Dismantled
sifting through the decades
of accumulated stuff
must haves in the moment
diamonds in the rough
for those timeless treasures,
only bubble wrap will do
shake the dust and cobwebs off
comfy well worn shoes
gently slip the photographs
from old broken frames
happy memories mingling
with faces with no names
shedding all the dross
that held me in the past
so to travel lighter
with only things that last
yet another chapter waits
its pages to be penned
each day, the simple gift of life
to live full to the end
~kat
I must admit this downsizing thing has truly disoriented me. I find myself clinging to routine, the easiest thing to assimilate to my new surroundings. But I have yet to find that sweet spot, where words flow like honey, where my eyes see things in ways that only an artist and writer can. I’m learning to live off the grid, with its big, starry black-mantled silence, and amber sunrises over distant mountains in the morning. For now they only manage to take my breath away. There are no words apart from the few sing-songy rhymes I manage to eke out. I know she’s in there…somewhere in the recesses of my mind…the muse who so relentlessly pursued me amidst the clutter and cacophony of city life. But here in the country? She must be cavorting with the faeries, giggling from behind downed tree hollows at my dizzy dry spell. I had every intention to start January 1st, full steam ahead. Part of the issue, I think, may be that I still need to unload the stuff we left behind and sell the dark, drafty, century old house I called home for over a decade. I need to be free of it. And so, I will drop a line now and again until I regain my footing. Peace and love to you. Until next glimpse…❤️
grateful
grateful am I for being here and all that being brings
grateful am I for pebbles that cause the brook to sing
grateful am I for shadows, a sign that light’s nearby
grateful am I for the tears falling free from a good cry
grateful am I for dirty dishes, our belly’s must be full
grateful am I for worms and slugs aerating the soil
grateful am I for callouses, honest work, for honest pay
grateful am I for deeds no one sees and doing good anyway
grateful am I for suffered loss remembering what was
grateful am I for little things that matter just because
grateful am I for the rain, for the rainbows that soon follow
grateful am I for failing, lessons learned, humble pies swallowed
grateful am I for adversity, the audacity to survive
grateful am I for pain, for it is proof that I’m alive
grateful am I for early mornings, so to start the day
grateful am I for nothing less, for less is more that way
~kat
For NaPoWriMo 2019 #16 Prompt: write a poem that uses the form of a list to defamiliarize the mundane.
like mercury colliding... 