A 'Septolet' Russia’s military fortunes in Ukraine continue deteriorating. Russia intensifies its crackdown on free speech. Septolet? The Septolet is a poem consisting of seven lines containing fourteen words with a break anywhere in between the two parts. Both parts deal with the same thought and create a picture.
A prose poem Aggressive like an elephant bull in musth, it's invincible. My ears tremble, athunder. Heart in heat, receptive, reddened; the bull swollen, leaking, irresistible. Love's low, pulsating rumble signals one singular purpose; sickly-sweet odor overwhelming; ears flapping in agitation; ichor flowing from his temples. My sanctum's four innermost chambers open, pulsing; nagada apounding.… Continue reading Musth, or: A must
A Crystalline They welcomed in their dinner guests, his heavy hand upon her thin nape. Her beautiful, gemmed Sabbath outfit was adorned with an unseen leash. She'd applied makeup carefully to conceal her crow's feet and pallor. An unsteady smile failed to distract from timid eyes, red and tearful. What's a Crystalline? A complete couplet.… Continue reading Through thick, or: Thin
An American sentence: With true poets, it's hard to know whether words are servants or masters. 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… Continue reading Servants, or: Masters
My 2nd blank verse EPIGRAPH: We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they’re called memories. Some take us forward, they’re called dreams.–Jeremy Irons (b. 1948) ... regret and failure, hopelessness against bulwark stubborn the generation's this; responding before breathe and pause; pain and anger the stifle and, kiss, hug, smile shall I; do… Continue reading Memories, or: Dreams
A Gogyohka car careening upside down, down the hill, I relaxed; always my nature to accept our lack of control; the car spinning out, smashing into, launching me through the trees couldn't have (for nobody could have) known about the oil spill coating the asphalt highway d’Verse Quadrille #139: 'Closing in on the end of 2021'… Continue reading My way, or: The highway
Poetry Partners #2 'Words', a poem by Judy Dykstra-Brown of 'LifeLessons' By their adjustment, I change their drift, but when I alter their lilt, I am as transformed by them as they are by me. I am inebriated by words. I reel in their power as they call my bluff. They reflect the changes in… Continue reading Words, or: Control