I spattered my armchair with ink, one of countless thoughtless actions; Older now, I'm more mindful, still nursing regrets from my youth; For ink, I whipped a pen around, cap left lying on my desk.
A Korean verse form related to haiku and tanka and comprised of three lines of 14-16 syllables each, for a total of 44-46 syllables. Each line contains a pause near the middle, similar to a caesura, though the break need not be metrical. The first half of the line contains six to nine syllables; the second half should contain no fewer than five. Originally intended as songs, sijo can treat romantic, metaphysical, or spiritual themes. Whatever the subject, the first line introduces an idea or story, the second supplies a “turn,” and the third provides closure. Modern sijo are sometimes printed in six lines.
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!
21 thoughts on “Whipped, or: Left lying”
💕🙏🏻 Arcadia 🙏🏻💕
oh ouch.. i know the feeling well.
Cringing at the prospect of red wine on my table cloth Thursday as I read this.
Stay in the present moment
It’s immaterial or just material
things clean up or the don’t
for wine, swirl, sniff, taste
lick the table clothe clean
ok so this ain’t no sijo.. the syllables don’t match but I tried. You know me… girls just wanna have fun. Gosh it’s only Tuesday.. hahahah 🤣
🖤🙏🏻 Cindy 🙏🏻🖤
Oooh, ink. My grandson decided to illustrate the hallway with crayons. The paint on the wall is washable. Nana taught him how to wash walls. There’s always a way out of every mess.
unfortunately, there was no way out of that mess – the armchair in my bedroom when I was a kid was covered in cloth. The ink spatters stained the the fabric permanently.
Our old dining table was imprinted with pressure marks from the boys writing their homework. There were spots where you could actually see their names. ❤️
Oh boy, not on the armchair. You are in so much trouble mister!
well, this was when I was a teenager, Debi ~ a quarter of a century has passed since then 🙂
I’m glad you survived
Now where can I say ink splattered
It feels like this curious mystery only happens to poets, writers and painters
What can say is, I ever so often scurry around looking for my wondering pencil to sharpen if.
Just a beautiful form
With the awaited twist in the end.
💞🙏🏻 thanks, Abi 🙏🏻💞
I find paint spatters in many mysterious places. (K)
🎨 Kerfe 🎨 ~ yes, but you are an artist!
Armchair splattered with ink…what a wonderful image!
🖤🙏🏻 Sangeetha 🙏🏻🖤 ~ it was a real bummer!
Haven’t we all done that?
Have we? 🤔
I definitely have. 😅