Tempus fugit-ives, or: Gunfight

My 2nd Byr a Thoddaid Creaking; I sit; is that my back? Shifting old office chair a crack; Base squeaking, as I tilt backwards a bit - With wit whetting my words. Poems come 'tween work assignments. Concepts clear as I refine 'em; Keyboard, clack-clacking, shapes dark produces - Nooses loosened escape. Fugitives run through… Continue reading Tempus fugit-ives, or: Gunfight

Words, or: Control

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

Still paperclips, or: Steel wires

My 1st American sentence Unfolded haiku-paperclips pierce through pages without binding them. 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 the… Continue reading Still paperclips, or: Steel wires

Lines, or: The healthy kind

A landay The first line left him trembling, sweaty; his racing heart convulsed at the second, longer line When I have a creative insight, there is a high. I think back in the day, I made music as much as I did because it made me feel so good. I think you could argue that… Continue reading Lines, or: The healthy kind

Creation, or: Chaos

A monotetra Verse comes in sheets of driving rain. Thoughts pitter-pat ceaseless refrain. Soaked through, my soul's washed clean of pain. Words keep me sane. Words keep me sane. While mind floats, buoyed by the flow, The heart absorbs what none can know. In foggy depths, rare insights glow. They're birthed just so. They're birthed… Continue reading Creation, or: Chaos