The root from which a tyrant springs

The people have always some champion whom they set over them and nurse into greatness... This and no other is the root from which a tyrant springs; when he first appears he is a protector -Plato (~427 – ~347 BCE) The quote I've selected for this week's WQW is deeply troubling to me. It stopped… Continue reading The root from which a tyrant springs

Shine, or: Rain

Poetry Partners #64 'Suede', a poem by Chris of 'Nomad' Heart pierced by her blade, Manipulation is her trade. Smile and laugh in life's parade, Permanently grinning is her masquerade. It's raining and I'm wearing suede. Chris: https://nomadonthemic.com/ A Cyhydedd hir by ben Alexander of ‘The Skeptic’s Kaddish’ Countless days I prayed... only lonely stayed;… Continue reading Shine, or: Rain

Enraged, Presage, or: Bare

This year, I am attempting to become active on Twitter after having created an account last year to post 365 micropoems. Among other things, this means I will be responding to Twitter poetry prompts. Initially, I wasn't planning on x-posting those here, but then I realized: if I don't save my Twitter poems elsewhere, I'll… Continue reading Enraged, Presage, or: Bare

Sugar, or: Spice

A quadrille In the form of a Diminishing Verse poem Fingers crossed, he'd intended to cheat... Soft cookies cooling from the oven's heat... She'd made him promise that he wouldn't eat any of them... But perhaps he'd just nibble a bit at one... Retching on salt, he realized she knew him to a 't'. Diminishing… Continue reading Sugar, or: Spice

Forgetfulness, or: Oblivion

Poetry Partners #19 'Forgetfulness', a poem by bodypositivefemme of 'Ann_Within' I dropped what does not swim In a bottle a boat The note from start A thought to keep A piece of body felt, the part I ripped From the person you once loved It could not forgive Or erase the touch of life And… Continue reading Forgetfulness, or: Oblivion

The gully, or: Machete

I. There was a gully behind... So we called it, anyway, although... the house that I grew up in; actually, it might not have been. It was hidden by the trees at the back... Looking back, I never questioned what... of my backyard, past the leaves of poison ivy; the kids called it; I adopted… Continue reading The gully, or: Machete

“We may have found our guy, Yevgenia.”

d’Verse prosery “Coffee, Dear?” “That would be great, Darling. Cream please.” “Yes, Dear. So, what’s on your mind this morning?” Thoughtfully, Mr. Li stirred his dark poison and raised it to his lips. “We may have a lead, Yevgenia.” “That’s wonderful, Yìchén! Now Mr. Wang will definitely give you that promotion!” “Well, we’re not certain… Continue reading “We may have found our guy, Yevgenia.”