Category Archives: Poem

Orderly Words

 

Orderly Words

They march in shackles all across the page.
Short long, short long, they limp in ordered form.
These words too orderly to show their rage
just follow rules and do not break the norm.
Line after line, rhyme shuffled out like cards.

What truth words carry comes in second place.
Are we mere croupiers or are we bards?
For in this poem, of truth there’s not a trace.
It’s more important it maintains its pace.

Chaos was the law of nature; Order was the dream of man.–Henry Adams

For dVerse Poets we are to write a novelinee, a nine-line poem in iambic pentameter and ababcdcdd rhyme scheme. To read other novelinees, go HERE. Image by Henry Cos on Unsplash. And, also for Marsha’s WQWWC prompt on Order

#WQWWC

prompt on Order.

Disciplinary Action

Disciplinary Action

Lately, my life is like a fresh peach
at the end of a limb, slightly out of reach.
With an air of foreboding, I reach out to pluck it,
then choose not to pick or bite into or suck it,
fearing fate’s censure if I choose to buck it.

The joy of communion seems lately to dissipate.
Events come and go but I do not participate.
Whereas once I said, “Yes,” now I always say “No.”
The presence of friends is a joy I forego,
for there seem to be dangers wherever I go,

Bamboozled by nature, what choice do we have?
This seems like a wound for which there’s no salve.
Each of us suffers, apart and alone
as if there are sins for which we must atone,
our closest communion carried out via phone.

We sit at our windows viewing the parade
of all of the glories that nature has made.
We Skype and we Facebook, we tweet and we Zoom,
feigning good cheer as we contemplate doom,
all of us children sent to our room.

Will there be an end to this long isolation?
If we mend our ways, will there be consolation?
If we clean up our oceans and clean up our sky,
can we address our sins , having figured out  why
mankind has  been chosen to sicken and die?

Prompts for the day are foreboding, bamboozle, peach, dissipate and presence.

Slipping out of the Groove


Slipping out of the Groove

For those of you it might behoove
to operate out of the groove,

I’d like to say that stranger’s better
than performing to the letter. 

In things you write and words you speak
it’s much more fun if you’re unique. 

Comments boring
create snoring.

 

For dVerse Poets Quadrille Challenge: Groove.  Go HERE to see the prompt.

Sticking to the Straight and Narrow


Sticking to the Straight and Narrow

(Mother Superior’s Rejoinder)

Please do not lollygag. There’s no time more.
We’re closing the shutters and locking the door.
Wipe those dreams from your brain, for it is our fear
that your thoughts will diverge from the prim and austere.
Make sure your spirit is pearl white and pure
with no sinful streaks to compete with demure.
Deadly sins number from one up to seven,
and striated souls will not make it to heaven.

 

Prompt words today are lollygag, austere, brain, striate and lock.

Unrequited Affection

Unrequited Affection

Love that’s unrequited garners no reward
as biological regions go completely unexplored.
Base instincts unconsidered insure that there’s no race,
with lover and beloved keeping a different pace.

Those romantic vistas each may view along the way
are simply viewed by “her” or”him,” for there is no “they.”
As wonderful as love may be when it’s reciprocated,
All-in-all some people find that it is overrated.

 

Prompt words today are requite, base,  vista, garner and biological,
Image by Ilyuza Mingazo on Unsplash.

Lothario: Wordle 516

Lothario

When she screamed his name out on the wind, their story spread for miles—
how she fell for all his stories and fell victim to his wiles.
Black shimmering hair, that boyish grin, his manner smooth as cream—
how could she know that things are not always what they seem?

Her arms rise up to meet the moon, conducting symphonies
of painful music as her screams and wind weave harmonies.
She spins her sins around her in a close-wound net—
A chrysalis of mourning that signs her deep regret

as miles away he races, making haste to leave.
Another maid abandoned with her heart upon her sleeve.
What Hell is there for men like this, off to unknown parts,
leaving spread behind them a trail of broken hearts?

This week’s prompt words are: name, out, wind, cream, shimmering, sin, grin, conduct, rise, miles, close, stories. Image by Claudia Soraya on Unsplash.

 

For The Sunday Whirl, Wordle  516

Only Child

Only Child

She wants to trade her parents for contemporary versions.
She cannot stand their constant recital of aversions.
When it comes to expectations, their rule list never ends.
They derogate her clothes choice and her makeup and her friends.

When she wants to go on overnights, they won’t give their consent.
They never understand her or hear what she really meant.
Her dating makes them nervous. They wait up ’til she gets in,
then interrogate her as to what she’s done and where she’s been.

When it comes to parents, she got the rawest deal.
The schism that’s between them it seems will never heal.
Would she had an older sister who was ill-behaved and wild
to detract attention from this wretched only-child!

Prompt words today are nervous, consent, schism, derogate and trade.

Ludicrous Lore


Ludicrous Lore

They say the perpetrators all got off scot-free
by posing as indigenous, but how could that be?

They made a ludicrous trio, emerging from their car.
All wrapped-up like packages, they couldn’t wander far.

They’d been here stealing chickens from White Cloud’s poultry farm
 on the reservation, but what could be the harm?

He had so many chickens that he’d never miss the one
or two or three or four or five that they had pinched for fun.

Yet with feathers in their hat bands and blankets held around them,
instead they uttered this excuse when the rangers found them.

They’d done a bit of hunting here on tribal land.
Their leader was Geronimo. He and his loyal band

had shot the deer with arrows, then bound it to their roof
with ropes tied ’round its antlers and then around one hoof.

But driving down the winding road, the driver got too dizzy.
(They said that it was vertigo that put him in a tizzy.)

That’s what caused the accident that spilled them off the road
where they toppled over sideways and lost their struggling load.

The deer ran off into the woods. It seems it wasn’t dead,
but merely stunned when arrows hit it on the head.

(Luckily, the bottle from which they’d all been drinking
had fallen in the water where the car was quickly sinking.)

It’s surprising that the rangers believed their tawdry tale,
and so they didn’t haul these buffoons off to jail.

They simply called a tow truck, which to their consternation
towed the whole bunch down the road to the reservation

where, alas, they found no kin but only laughter met them
as they huddled near the car and phoned for friends to get them.

And after they departed—hungover, sodden, sore,
their whole silly debacle passed into tribal lore.

The time those drunken cowboys with nothing else to do
sneaked onto the tribal lands and tried to pass for Sioux.

Their totaled car they left behind, and here the whole plot thickens.
It now serves as a handy coop for all the tribal chickens.

Today”s prompt words are scot-free, vertigo, indigenous and package. Image by Tyler Mulligan on Unsplash.

Simian Payback


Simian Payback

In more ways than one, my new roommate is simious.
Eating bananas, he’s hardly abstemious.
His arms are so long that his fists scrape the ground
and when I am gone, he monkeys around!

When we go out in public, the people all gape.
It doesn’t take science to declare him an ape.
He swings on the curtains and ruins my decor

by pulling the drapes from their rod to the floor.

If you said he’s an ingrate, you wouldn’t be wrong.
When I go to the dentist and he comes along,
he mimes for a freebie—a checkup and cleaning,
then stands at the mirror, inspecting and preening,

never imagining he’s out of line
as I dole out the cash for his cleaning and mine.
Just one thing might mitigate his crazy acts,
so I ask that you temper your scorn with the facts.

He was raised in the jungle, then put in a cage
and only let out when he reached middle age.
So how could I help but assist in his exit
with no one around to thwart it or hex it?

With the key in the lock, I just gave a twist
and gave his jailbreak a needed assist.
But now I admit I was way less than clever,
for I have acquired the worst roommate ever!

What prompted my action? Was I less than smart
 when I saw his great need, in playing my part?
I felt that I owed him a really big debt,
 for an ape is way more than merely a pet.

If you studied your science and paid good attention,
you could not have missed this pertinent mention:
if there hadn’t been apes, then there wouldn’t be
any of you and there wouldn’t be me!

 

Prompts today are decor, ingrate, mitigate, abstemious and science. Image by Suzanne Schwartz on Unsplash.

False Endings

False Endings

His paranoia is one for the books.

He finds disease wherever he looks.
He anguishes over the slightest small sneeze
and the tiniest bump brings him down to his knees.

When his girl left him, the heartbreak he felt
was myocarditis, and the smallest welt
on his neck or his face is cancer for sure,
so he’s off to  to Mayo Clinic to look for a cure.

His fixation’s macabre and his acts supercilious
every damn time that he feels a bit bilious,
for he knows better than all of his friends
that he’ll soon meet his maker, so he makes amends

for all his ill deeds and his slights and his snits,
seeing the light when he’s down in the pits.
He should have done better and eaten less pie,
and now he’ll pay for it, for he’s going to die.

And when he gets better, you can bet he’ll be sure
that repentance has brought a miraculous cure.
So goes the story, and though it’s not his ending,
you can be sure that a new plague is pending!

(Note: I know I’ve used this photo at least a few (?) times before but it’s just so appropriate to this poem that I can’t help using it again. )

Prompt words today are: myocarditis, macabre, anguish, supercilious and paranoia.