Fragments, or: Figments

A Fragment Poem


... rhymes in the drift
lethargic still long past cockcrow hour
   he hears children's
Gales of laughter and squalls 
   cherubs performing punk 
rock somewhere near... 


... got the idea he was a poet
Never snorted 
Sewage nor spewed it 
Out, down 
To earth himself 
Broken brilliant in the rough...


... like the rest, 
    aged bearded Jew -
like those before, doesn't even
like all that are
like him in...


 ... the quality 
  of our respective armchairs
   ranging from plush to ragged
 ragging on one another
  veins pulsing in our necks
   arms wrestling...

d’Verse prompt

‘Picking up some Pieces’

At d’Verse today, poets are invited to write Modernist / Post-Modernist Fragment poems, meaning either:

  1. A poem of several numbered stanzas, each being complete in itself and having only a passing relationship to each other, if at all, or:
  2. A poem of disjointed images (like listening to conversation in passing, repetitively switching between radio/tv station, random images across a screen, or paintings/photos seen in a gallery)


  1. Poems should NOT conform to any rhyme scheme;
  2. Poems MUST include Fragment(s) somewhere in the title

Let’s write poetry together!

When it comes to partnership, some humans can make their lives alone – it’s possible. But creatively, it’s more like painting: you can’t just use the same colours in every painting. It’s just not an option. You can’t take the same photograph every time and live with art forms with no differences.

Ben Harper (b. 1969)

Would you like to create poetry with me and have a completed poem of yours featured here at the Skeptic’s Kaddish? I am very excited to have launched the ‘Poetry Partners’ initiative and am looking forward to meeting and creating with you… Check it out!

45 thoughts on “Fragments, or: Figments”

  1. I am in the half-sleep insomniac bloom of zolpidem, but I like your work. I will return when I am once again razored out to write a ringing comment! ✌🏼❤️

  2. Love this especially; “got the idea he was a poet/Never snorted/Sewage nor spewed it/Out, down/To earth himself/Broken brilliant in the rough…”💝💝

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