cohesive thoughts tenuous,
the poet stares at an empty page.
One abortive attempt after another,
long past the hope for something
lyrical, he turns to a word generator.
Even when they’re given to him
they yield naught, yet his resolve
remains steady. Always wanting,
searching for the right words,
the best he can do is transform them
into a poem about writer’s block.
Writing a-poem-a-day National/Global Poetry Writing Month 2023 has been difficult for me. This is my fifth poem about writer’s block. I’ve used the Kerfe’s random words, chosen by Oracle 2, including 9 of the words.
Shared with Day Twenty-eight at napowrimo.net (off prompt)
The years overlap
as they remind us
that all of this
is only a moment,
our perspective changing
with each sunset
/sunrise, each leaf opening
/falling, each point of light
in the infinite star-filled sky
reminding us of the possibilities
behind and before us,
yet contained in the moment,
as one year passes
and another begins.
Kerfe Roig often has a way of sending my mind in unexpected directions,
as she has done with her pantoum, January 2022: into the darkness.
held in thought
call to me
always out of reach
This gogyohka, inspired by water music by Kerfe Roig, is my response to
Colleen’s 2020 Weekly #Tanka Tuesday
#Poetry Challenge No. 187 #PhotoPrompt,
with the photo provided by Sally Cronin.
Aware of Darkness
Who is to say one’s grief
is greater than that of another?
Never really gone,
all exist in all they touch,
yet some are touched
in ways that cannot be equaled.
Who is to measure a loss,
if not the one whose heart
cannot find a way to fill a space
that already holds something
that can no longer be touched?
One who sees the darkness
that would consume
the light that fills that space.
One who lives with that grief.
These are my thoughts after reading Beware of Darkness, by Kerfe Roig.
Linked to Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub
the beat of wings
turn of a leaf
a passing shadow
less than before
now a memory
a streak of chrome
a trail of red in the night
the world passing by
this, and more
become a fount
in words, colors
seeping across the page
holding everything, and nothing
the reader left to decide
the poet’s intent
empty hands, cupped
hold more than the universe
has to offer, hopes, wishes
left unfulfilled, leaving nothing
from the past but memories,
yet all of the future
This began as two stanzas (the final two),
which were the tangent taken by my thoughts
after reading Kerfe’s Across the Universe.
~ Day 27 ~
it’s the alone in
the dance that makes the never
knowing so complete
Your absence the loss
of a scale to measure
all that comes after.
What steps to take
in the loss of moments.
Whether to lead. Or follow.
Whether to acquiesce, be carried
away by a tune, or resent it
for the memories it holds.
The dance of never knowing
is a dark reflection of the dance
of enjoyment that came before.
Both the senryū and the watercolor are by Kerfe Roig,
from her post (nowhere) to be found.
I hold aloft what holds me down,
My sense of self, as yet unsound.
No sense of where my mind should be,
My troubles named, within me found.
And yet this weight that’s placed on me
Need not be what the world should see.
Acknowledging that I’m not bound
May offer possibilities.
All month, I held off from attempting to write a rubaiyat, finding no interest in the form. I guess I just needed something to write about. I found that in Kerfe Roig’s Inquisition. I left this as a comment, and I’m just under the wire for Frank Hubeny’s month-long prompt at dVerse, Poetry Forms: Rubaiyat. This is written in iambic tetrameter, with a rhyme scheme of AABA BBAB.
Image source: pngtree.com
traces of tides
a lunar dream
traces left in spaces
between grains of sand
mindless of daylight
dusk or dawn
Inspired by “on tides” by Kerfe Roig, at method two madness – her response to Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt: Footprints #writephoto.
Image by Sue Vincent
National/Global Poetry Writing Month ~ Day 18
framing the years
time, the line
we cannot box, never
finding a final corner
passing on to form
the next box
and the next
with the mind of Escher
defining the vortex
the core of existence
drawn through time
expressed between that line
A response to Kerfe’s January 2018, at method two madness