Stars, or: Hall of Fame

Poetry Partners #112 'Cassiopea', a 'mirrored refrain' poem by Scotti Woolery-Price of 'Morning Star Poetry' Placed in a constellation Found among the Northern skies Her fables try to tempt you But come morning her light dies Zig zagging around the night Her five stars come into view But come morning her light dies As fables… Continue reading Stars, or: Hall of Fame

Beeeep! or: After the tone

A kyrielle It's not that I'm being a jerk when I fail to answer the phone. Please, as I'm quite busy at work... Leave your message after the tone. Those crazy rumors of my death - They're all entirely overblown! So, for now, while I yet draw breath, leave your message after the tone. If… Continue reading Beeeep! or: After the tone

Schnorrer, or: Worse

A Quadrille In the form of a not-Kyrielle He brought her presents every day, Penning serenades to sing her. She'd blush at every bouquet... Though, for her sweet words, doubts lingered... However, he couldn't ignore Her galivanting with swingers. She promised she was no schnorrer... Though, for her sweet words, doubts lingered. d'Verse Quadrille #136:… Continue reading Schnorrer, or: Worse

Openings, or: End game

A kyrielle Been playing for over a year; So, what might my best next move be? Could writing become a career? ~ Thus far, it's been purely for me. I've mastered some challenging forms. So, what might my best next move be? It's such fun to tinker with norms. ~ Tacticians, proficient, coach me. With… Continue reading Openings, or: End game

New Year’s, or: Reality

A kyrielle Every year, there's a New Year; and People make commitments to change That oft blow away like soft sands... Then we do it again - ain't it strange? Every year, there's a New Year; and We celebrate like it matters, Imbuing it with meanings grand; But weak illusions shall shatter. Every year, there's… Continue reading New Year’s, or: Reality

Sweet, sweet, or: Silence

A kyrielle I drop her off and collect her; Daily, you can see us walking; For me, all those walks are a blur... My child is constantly talking! I have given up on thinking; Her voice my every thought's blocking; Feels like waking after drinking... My child is constantly talking! I love her more than… Continue reading Sweet, sweet, or: Silence

Red rum, or: Ink wells

A kyrielle Every body drained of its blood, He came to be known as the Leech. While screams filled his mind like a flood, He quilled stirring ballads for each. For months, he'd observe them closely, Even learned their manners of speech. They were local heroes, mostly; He quilled stirring ballads for each. He would… Continue reading Red rum, or: Ink wells

Never, or: Their wildest dreams

A kyrielle Through bedroom window, warm breeze blew. Deposited by lush forest, They floated at the threshold to Magic realm where tall trees chorused. Before them, floated small canoe... Carried them to shimmering lake. They floated at the threshold to Stars mirrored in ripples opaque. Upwards, then higher, on they flew. As threads of heavens… Continue reading Never, or: Their wildest dreams