The Quality of Removal
Not so much the undesirable.
Not that that’s always possible.
Not when it’s beyond your control.
Your peace of mind.
Your own wellbeing.
Only then can you
from the undesirable.
This is my response to Poetics: Quality Poems, the prompt from Kim at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, which is to write a poem titled “The Quality of […]” Kim also asks that we emulate the form of Les Murray’s poem The Quality of Sprawl, by starting each stanza with “[…] is/does.” I didn’t have it in me, so maybe this should be titled Removal.
The Price of Insomnia
Late at night, with sleep a fairy tale
that wouldn’t come true, I’d lie
on the couch staring at the tube.
Long before satellite and cable
connections, when streaming
meant getting your feet wet.
When an antenna on the roof
was the primary connection
to the outside world.
When programming ended
for the night and infomercials
were the only thing on the air.
I’d watch them hawk their wares
until I finally fell asleep to their voices
fading into the white noise of test patterns,
with visions of the highest-grade zirconium
or Teflon-clad pots with an ironclad guarantee,
the stuff that dreams are made of.
This is my response to Sarah’s prompt at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, Acting like animals! We’re asked to used the name of an animal as a verb.
My poem, “Frailty,” which is included in my collection Glass Awash is featured at Hotel / Masticadores. Many thanks to Editor Juan Re Crivello for his support.
(Image source: pixabay.com)
Obscurity is a matter of perception, subject to bias.
This is my response to An Artist Gets His Due, the prompt from Lillian at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, which is to write a poem inspired by one of five portraits by Thorvald Hellesen, a Norwegian abstract artist known for his Cubist paintings. I have chosen “Portrait of Elvind Eckbo,” painted in 1914.
The American Sentence was created by Allen Ginsberg
~ loose American form of haiku, with 17 syllables
~ represented as a sentence
~ reference to a season is not required
~ similar to senryū
~ read more here & here
Image source: ACC Art Books
Just a Memory
We often treasure what is hardest to obtain, or retain. So it is for me with memories. They say that every time we remember something the details of that memory are altered. If only that were the case for me. Details are the first to go, so altering them is an entirely different matter. If I have to re-enter a room to remember why I entered it to begin with, what are the chances that I will remember specific details, whether from distant or recent past?
Consider a recent conversation I had with two people. I might recall part of the conversation, but I’m just as likely to credit a statement to the wrong person.
And a specific event? I might be able to visualize it, but there is no guarantee that I will remember anything other than a snapshot. It’s always been this way for me, compounded now in my later years. At least, that’s the way I remember it.
leaf falls and is gone
tree waits for return of spring
just a memory
This is my response to Haibun Monday 5-22-23: Memory,
the prompt from Frank Tassone at dVerse ~ Poets Pub.
with the wind
on final journey
This senryū is my response to Twiglet #324: his ashes.
Shared with OpenLinkNight #338 at dVerse ~ Poets Pub.
By the Stars
No map exists for the course
that brought me to you. Yet,
with the stars as my guide,
there was but one path.
Once a heart knows the way,
it cannot be denied.
Mine would not stop
until it found its way to you.
This is my response to Quadrille #155 – Mapping out our poems, the prompt from De Jackson at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, which is to use a form of the word map in a Quadrille – a 44-word poem (excluding title), with no required meter or rhyme.
Image source: freeimages.com
My poems “My Paddle Slices the Water,” “The Final Cost,” and “Downstream” appear in Wolf at the Door, Nobody Home, from The Gasconade Review. It’s available in a print edition, and the details can be found here.
Many thanks to Editors John Dorsey and Jason Ryberg. I’m honored to have my poetry included in this collection.
More or Less About Time
blank, black disc
tells me nothing
until a quick tap
or flip of the wrist
brings it to life
shows its face
chosen by me
to emulate analog
in a digital world
the only gear here
time a primary concern
weather at a glance
health in numbers
and another tap
phone texts for eyes
younger than mine
still adjusting to digital
I’m closing out National/Global Poetry Writing Month by actually being on prompt for
Day Thirty at napowrimo.net, where Maureen asks us to write a palinode
– a poem in which you retract a view or sentiment expressed in an earlier poem.
Compare this to Watching Time, a poem about my heirloom pocket watch
written for an April 2017 challenge.
years have passed
yet you still wear black
in your mind
worn like a mantle
weighs you down
you will be consumed
to enter your life
This senryū series is my response to Twiglet #322: you wear black.
Shared with Day Twenty-nine at napowrimo.net (off prompt)