Political Correctness...

There's always an edge here,
this place of in-between,
where men do bravely sing
as from the cliff they glean.
Now, do not rock the boat,
please suffer no offence,
yet the edge of acceptability
makes neither rule nor sense.
Lookout below for guano,
there's a daily fresh supply,
cast near and far without a thought,
enough to blind an eye!

Andrew, at dverse poets, is our guest prompter today. One of the options he has suggested, is to write a poetic rant about something we feel strongly about! Here's the link: Stormy Rants and Rumblings

A View from a Window...

Grey clouds clump

vying for space

until they merge

a day that lacks

yellow and blue

has been set.

Grey road and 

grey foot path are

 a matching pair

as cars drive past

they also align

with this solemn hue.

A grey sedan day,

bereft of colour

cannot last.

The girl waits,

dreaming of spring

  and pink blossoms...

Merril at dverse poets, has set us a challenge to write a triversen poem using 3 line stanzas [tercets] where each tercet is a sentence. They are broken by breaths, the accents and rhythms of normal speech - 2 to 4 beats per line and are not rhymed. Six stanzas/18 lines are suggested. Here is the link: Triversen Poems

I'll Have a Full English Please!

The sizzle, the splatter

the best rinds are fatter, 

delectable bacon is frying!

The tomato, the sausage,

puffed up like a gossage,

  a brown egg or two is worth trying!

The toast, lightly done,

crisp soldiers for one,

border the plate that is offered.

The napkin's stained yellow

the tummy feels mellow,

the full English breakfast now scoffered!

Sanaa, at dverse poets, has prompted us to pen a poem about food! Here's the link: Food Poetry

The Dark Side of Pride...

Pride's affliction stiffens necks

that can, but will not bend;

gold and glory deceive the proud,

is there hope they'll ever mend?

A humble heart soothes the soul,

self-righteousness must flee;

the neck once stiff and surely stuck,

becomes now loose and free.

Lisa @ dverse poets has prompted us to pen a 44 word quadrille which must include the word 'bend' or any form of that word. Here's the link: Poetry that Bends

An Epitaph...

To walk in other's shoes, past the sentinels,

on cold stone steps that lie in the dirt

where the moss of history dwells.

Lillian, at dverse poets, has suggested, as an option, we pen an ekphrastic poem, using one of two photos she provided.

Here's the link: Ekphrastic Poetry

 

 

  

 

Sweet and Sour...

 Fastening her jacket while fastening her eyes

on the possible win and the possible prize

she walked with an air of fait accompli

to the table of trophies where people would see.

She bowed to the people and then to the Judge;

'First prize must be mine with my chocolatey fudge.'

But up on the stage her sweetness turned sour

on finding her fudge did not feature this hour.

'A mistake has been made! It's simply not fair!

The prize should be mine!' the woman did glare.

She bowed to the people and then to the Judge

and collected her pride along with her fudge.

Melissa, at dverse poets, has prompted us to pen a poem which contains a 'zeaugma'.

  A zeaugma [noun] is a figure of speech in which a word applies to two others in different senses. I have used two zeaugmas - one in the opening line and one in the last line of my poem. A great prompt which really made me think!

Here's the link: Zeaugmatically Speaking

A Perception Distorted...

 Life had not been kind to Margaret, not kind at all. Well, that was her perception, for she was not familiar with gratitude nor with the glass half full theory. Poor Margaret.

"You kids!" she'd tell her children. "You don't care about me. Never have, never will!"

In response they would smile, stroke Margaret's arm and attempt to reassure her of their utmost love for her. For indeed, they did love their elderly mother, very much. Margaret would just snort, humph and growl. 

"Before you lot came along my life was less complicated. When I die I will be gone from this empty world and I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook, with the photographs there and the moss."

Her gracious children would just smile, stroke Margaret's arm and tell her they loved her.

Dementia was a cruel master, which they understood very well...

Kim at dverse poets, has asked us to pen a prosery of 144 words sans title. Our prosery must include the lines from 'Take this Waltz' by Leonard Cohen. 'And I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook, with the photographs there and the moss.'

Here's the link: Prosery Waltz

Blackboard Screeches...

Screeching white chalk

teacher's drone talk

history class in motion;

focus now lost

paper bin-tossed

the students don't have a notion.

Jarred wide awake

for pity's sake

teacher quite frustrated;

pulling his hair

he does despair

 that his students will not be rated.

De, at dverse poets, has prompted us to pen a 44 word quadrille that must contain some form of the word 'jar'.

Here's the link: A Jar Full of Poems