A 'Septolet' Putin avoids accessing the Internet. Putin's bodyguards collect his feces when he travels abroad. 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.
Poetry Partners #137 'Swimming Against the Tide', a 'Snyder Nonce' poem by M. Snyder of 'The Art of M.' She swam against the tide that was too strong Found herself nearly drowned in the process He told her to continue to hold on She could barely grab a hold of his hand Her sullen expression,… Continue reading Ebb, or: Tide
Ya (Arabic: يا), O; hey; you; vocative particle preceding a noun used in direct address Elephant (English): a mammal and the largest existing land animal, very conspicuous I. Ya-elephant, wherefore this room? A poem, then, or-- p'raps too soon? No job in sight; the crush of debt; Ya-elephant doth sit and fret, And yet... Ya-elephant,… Continue reading Elephant, or: Future
A dark limerick When they were tykes, their folks thought it ironic: Bobby would burble, whereas Babs was laconic; But mom and dad became panicked When Bobby's shrink called him manic, And Babs' isolophilia turned extreme and chronic. d'Verse poetics: There’s a word for that At d'Verse, poets were encouraged to select three or more… Continue reading He said, or: She said
A dark limerick The life of the party, ol' Vivacious Viv, Would dance like she had no f**ks to give; But afterwards, her mood would fall; She'd slam into that tall, dark wall... Few knew that -daily- Viv had to choose to live. d'Verse poetics: Choice At d'Verse, poets were encouraged to craft poems in… Continue reading Darkness, or: Impenetrable
An American paragraph* (an experimental form) He wished that not everything had to be so challenging all the time. Clearly, it didn't matter whether he combed his beard thrice; he knew that. Plus, why wake up each morning at seven twenty-seven on the dot? Why should he leave the crust on only one side of… Continue reading The worse it seemed to get…
A Byr a Thoddaid Consumed she his whole imagination... temptation, deep within. He'd turn, but would find no one there... Where'd she gone to, his lady fair? Never once did he doubt her existence ~ Sultry dances; firm legs... Friends and family were concerned ~ He came all company to spurn. He was soon beyond… Continue reading Lost, or: Found
A 'Found Poem' Based on Peter Schneider's poem 'Lost in Plain Sight' I wake up, waiting, wanting to speak my mind, I think. Why do I have this empty cup clenched in my right hand? To fill in with... name, date? I greet my neighbor (isn't her name Susan?) with trivia, punch line. She smiles… Continue reading Transfer, or: Orientation