The Fib is a poetic form created by Gregory K. Pincus that plays off the mathematical Fibonacci sequence to arrive at the syllable count per line. For a 6-line poem, that count would be 1/1/2/3/5/8. Each count is determined by adding the 2 previous line-counts. A multi-stanza poem can be written by linking multiple Fibs together. Mine was created by reversing the syllable count in the second half – 8/5/3/2/1/1.
A shadorma has one or more 6-line stanza(s) with a syllable count of 3/5/3/3/7/5. I posted a shadorma for each day of the month during November 2017.
Blue collar, with roots deeper than any walnut or oak. I remember those black walnuts from Uncle Bill’s farm. Shells as hard as the hammer to break them. And bitter, but hard work can be that way. Even if a vacation on his dairy farm was more work than play, it still made great memories. He wasn’t a man to shy away from work.
Neither was his brother, whose lessons carried me through life. Even before I worked beside him on a loading dock, there was work in the yard, digging a trench for a foundation. Pulling the transmission out of one of my first cars and replacing it. Building a barn when he finally bought his own piece of land. The years I put in on the dock after he retired. The many years after that driving a truck, making deliveries. The lesson that got me through all of that was simple.
There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch.
This poem is my response to Day 6 of napowrimo.net, which asks us to use a quote from a favorite book as inspiration and as the title for a poem, and then to change the title of the poem. The term TANSTAAFL (“There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch.”) was a theme in “The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress,” by Robert Heinlein, (1966). The complete phrase was already in use by the early 1940s.
Gogyohka (pronounced go-gee-yoh-kuh) ~ a form of Japanese poetry pioneered by Enta Kusakabe in the 1950s ~ 5-line poetry ~ like tanka, but with freedom from restraints ~ no fixed syllable requirement ~ no conventions regarding content ~ brief lines in keeping with the tradition of Japanese short verse
Images Wikimedia Commons – Rosette Nebula surrounding star cluster NGC2244 Astronomy Picture of the Day – “cluster galaxies and cluster dark matter, analogous to the many points of light one would see while looking through a wine glass at a street light”
No hourglass will hold the sand that sifts through my fingers at this moment. As I stand here, my thoughts are of the present we could have had.
Walks on the shore. The shells we would take as mementos. Your favorite dish with linguine, you scoffing at any choice that has shells or rotini. Laughter, as we share a private joke. Talk of our future, our eyes locked, communicating in unspoken words.
The ether holds my closest connection to you now, your name mere pixels before my eyes, never fully in focus. Messages never sent languish, familiar only to me.
I place one message in a bottle, turn to the shore behind me, and cast it into the future we’ll never have. I turn back to gaze into the desert before me.
Such fine paper, never to know the feel of ink Closely guarded, with secrets never to be told Chambered, holding more than words could convey Delicate, while infused with hidden strength Touched by wings, yet never meant to take flight A message delivered with a sting far greater than any words Pray the experience is a positive one
It’s an edit of something written in August 2020, two weeks after my bicycle injury. The memory of both is still pretty vivid. I could have sworn I posted it, but WordPress tells me otherwise. I guess I was so wrapped up in that that I never got around to posting this. As I stepped through the sliding door onto my deck, I passed through a spider web. Turning to brush the fibers from my face I watched as one long strand stretched and tugged at a wasp nest tucked under the eaves. Two wasps immediately took flight. In a split second, one of the wasps managed to sting both of my middle fingers as I waved my hand about to keep it from my head. A day later, I still couldn’t get my ring past the knuckle. Yes, the same hand that was swollen from my bicycle mishap two weeks earlier.
There is logic in that progression. There to here, a direct route.
But it was not logic that drove me. It was love that brought me down those roads. Logic would have asked, “Why?”
Leave behind all I’d come to know in my life? But what would life be without you? And so, I chose this road rather than a life of regret. I chose you, and that made all the difference.
This poem is my response to Day Two at napowrimo.net, where the prompt, inspired by the Robert Frost poem “The Road Not Taken,” is to “write a poem about your own road not taken – about a choice of yours that has ‘made all the difference’ and what might have happened had you made a different choice.” In 2012, I followed my heart and moved from New York to Missouri.
Expand your mind. Suspend disbelief and bring relief. Seize that fine line between yesterday and tomorrow. This moment, any moment, is yours to uncover. Whatever you find, wherever you find it, you’ll still be here when you get there; always be there, even when you return.
The deeper you go the more you’ll know. With no load to carry, the world is in your hands. Experience sonic expansion. More than memory, the mansion of your mind is a palace, no less than the world that surrounds you. More than you know, and more than that, awaits you.
This ekphrastic poem is my response to Day One at napowrimo.net, where the prompt is to write a poem inspired by the animated version of “Seductive Fantasy”, by The Sun Ra Arkestra.
moon no longer full
there is less light in the world
when a friend passes
This senryū is my response to Colleen Cheseboro’s #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge #219: #specificform, which asks that we write a haiku or tanka on any subject. While mortality has been an occasional subject in my poetry over the years, it seemed to become more of a recurring theme once I reached Medicare age, three years ago. What can I say? People around me are getting older. I’m getting older.
Images Wikimedia Commons – Heron at New Moon, by Ohara Koson
Waning gibbous moon, Jefferson City Missouri, 01 April 2021
This will serve as my poem for Day 1 of National/Global Poetry Writing Month,
in case I don’t meet the challenge at napowrimo.net.