Poem: The Only Constant

Poem created in response to Poetic Bloomings’ In-Form Poets Wednesday for 1 January 2014.

Form:  Alouette

 

The Only Constant

We find it quite fair,
the breeze through our hair,
top down on warm summer drives
zipping around curves
a few little swerves;
those carefree days of our lives.

Too soon winter comes
the rain and sleet drums
on the windshield while we yearn
for warm sunny hues
to chase away blues;
that change is constant, we learn.

Poem: An Award

Poem created in response to Poetic Bloomings’ In-Form Poets Wednesday for 4 December 2013.

Form:  Nasher

 

An Award

It seems that I’ve gone and done something grand,
but to get the award and shake the hand
of my boss’s boss’s boss for doing my job
I have to wear a damned tie…can’t “look like a slob.”
My speech is all planned, I think it quite it funny:
“Please, hold your applause, just show me the money.”

Poem: Politicos

Poem created in response to Poetic Bloomings’ In-Form Poets Wednesday for 18 September 2013.

Form:  Clogyrnach

 

Politicos

 

Please pardon any confusion.
My intentional obtusion
is meant to disguise
that I’m spewing lies;
a street-wise
illusion.

 

Poem: Betrayed

In response to Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides post on WritersDigest.com, dated 26 Aug 2013:

Prompt/Form:  Lai

 

Betrayed
Shook my head that day
as I walked away
from her.
Nothing she could say
that would make me stay
with her.
Dreams crushed, future gray.
Never thought she’d stray.
Not her.

Poem: The Ballad of Dirk and Burke

Poem created in response to Poetic Bloomings’ In-Form Poets Wednesday for 26 June 2013.

Form: Descent

 

The Ballad of Dirk and Burke

There once was a man named Dirk
who had time while he was at work
to go to the gym
to stay fit and trim
it was quite an on-the-job perk

another in the office named Burke
surfing the web all day was for him
produced much less, but was still a jerk
to Dirk because he could stay slim

a wise man suffers
the enmity of a fool
Dirk quoted to Burke

who complained to the boss
Dirk’s gym time was a loss

The boss seemed all ears, nodding along with the rant, Burke now surfs for work

Poem: The Dialogue Dizain

Poem created in response to Poetic Bloomings’ In-Form Poets Wednesday for 19 June 2013.

Form: Dialogue Dizain

 

The Dialogue Dizain

“Yo, dude, check out this brand new form.”

“It’s kind of cool, but how’s it new?”

“It gives a slight twist to the norm,
making me have to chat with you.”

“It’s neat what that small change can do,
adding another bit of fun.”

“It does, indeed. Now, I have to run,
but, while being quite pedantic,
there’s one thing yet that needs be done:
Give some props to Walt Wojtanik!”

 

A Year of Lunacy

I’ve been contemplating doing this for a few weeks now, and yesterday, March 4, 2013, I began my “Year of Lunacy“.  What does that mean?  I plan on writing at least one lune a day.  A lune is a form of poetry that has 13 syllables broken down in three lines of five/three/five.  No rhyming required.

This shouldn’t be too terribly difficult, even during the April Poem-A-Day Challenge (PAD) and the November Poem-A-Day Chapbook Challenge.  Being small and relatively open, coming up with a lune should be easy.

My only real conundrum is whether or not to post them as I write them, post them in groups –weekly, maybe, or to not post them at all, and then maybe turn them into a book of poetry that spans a year of my life.  I’m thinking that if I go with the last option, I will want to make a majority of the lunes about what’s going on in my life…tracking things over the course of the year or just things that pop up each day…as well as writing about whatever strikes me.

During the PADs, I find myself using lunes as my last minute “Dang, I need to write a poem today!” go-to form.  Having now talked myself into saving my poems for the year, with maybe an exception here and there, I guess I will need to “work” these lunes a bit rather than simply throwing thirteen syllables together to crank one out.  No one will be interested in a book full of over three hundred and sixty-five crappy little poems regardless of how cool the author is.  <smarmy grin>

The Year of Lunacy is under way…only three hundred and sixty-three days to go.