A limerick I solemnly swear that I am up to no good, And given the hour, this ought be understood... One cannot expect more of me Until my brain's had its coffee- Else sweet verses shan't flow as they should. ‘What do you see’ Prompt #157 For Sadje’s weekly #WDYS prompt, she offered the photo… Continue reading For worse, or: Better
An American sentence: I sip hot morning coffee, sighing with deep relief and self-judgment. What's an 'American Sentence'? Allen Ginsberg, inventor of the American Sentence, felt that the haiku didn’t work as well in English. Ginsberg decided to remove the line structure of the haiku, maintaining the requirement of 17 syllables total. He felt that… Continue reading Relief, or: Self-judgment
Sangeetha & David's new poetry project Once upon a time, two poets who'd never met in person began writing verses back and forth over the Internet. Their first project took them some nine months: a 100 verse Hyakuin. Once they'd completed their first oeuvre, they decided to continue their journey together; and Sangeetha came up… Continue reading The Purely Hopeful, or: Creativity verses form
Poetry Partners #91 'Morphine Drip', a poem by LaToya Williams of 'mentalnotes1' For Halloween I want to be a morphine drip To let the sun dry me up And run healing through this broken cup But there is no sun in October And the weather is always better after the rain The atmosphere is clearer… Continue reading Garden, or: Eden
Papa's fingers Papa was supposed to visit us in August of 2018, but his unexpected death came that July, just before his intended visit to Israel. I last saw him in person in the summer of 2017. One of the last memories I have of Papa is him showing me his right hand. He bent… Continue reading The case of the stiff fingers
An American sentence: On Shabbat, smokers forgo cigarettes. Would I could write poetry. What's an 'American Sentence'? Allen Ginsberg, inventor of the American Sentence, felt that the haiku didn’t work as well in English. Ginsberg decided to remove the line structure of the haiku, maintaining the requirement of 17 syllables total. He felt that removing… Continue reading Lighting a fire, or: Writing
My 1st Sheshire A memory still gnaws at me; I was self-righteous in my youth. One week, my parents had headaches; Erring, they'd bought... decaf coffee. A jerk, I smirked, learning the truth Of their addiction and mistake. Then, in college, t'was a café... Across the street from my dorm room. I'd drink cappuccinos and… Continue reading Light, medium, or: Dark
A Cywydd Llosgyrnog What once was surely sight unseen, Today's bards verse without caffeine. Their minds keen, while mine's blurry. My mornings ~ always viscous slogs 'Til I've oiled old, unwilling cogs, Mind defogged and deflurried.
The Skeptic's Kaddish 🇮🇱 
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