a sign,
of the bare spine
that used to slumber here,
when nights were long, and love was sheer,
and fine
Tag Archives: formal poetry
cinquain 2021 i
plum trees
never ask why,
when the deities please,
their buds, in the blink of an eye,
must die
Twilight in the Tulips
The sun decamps as we march here.
You lend your heart, I lend my ear.
Rich tangerine and scarlet dames
command the field with docile flames.
As we are humbled by their grace,
lush lilac looms on heaven’s face.
The moon reports as we halt here.
I lend my heart, you lend your ear.
The ladies’ gowns have been concealed
and diamonds bright have been revealed.
Your mouth unfurls; I see a smile.
Let’s linger now, for just a while.
Delights
Delights of the night
have vanished from sight
and nothing I write
shall baffle their flight.
Delights of the day
are still far away
and nothing I say
shall hasten their play.
untitled/October 2019
though it be stale and laced full of holes,
give us this day our daily bread,
for the shops are all closed and bakers
are home, sleeping quite soundly in
questionless beds
rise and fall
This meter’s snappy! What say you?
Its parallels are far and few!
At midnight, dawn, and twilight too,
an odist’s comrade through and through!
In truth its cadence is a bore!
It’s more or less an age-old snore.
Please put away this “two and four”
and just write!
Such Whims
Such whims you must expunge with every crumb
of heart at hand, for nothing but unrest
would prey upon the pride of those who slump
forth, called to be old outcasts, two abreast!
Remember days of mustard dust and nests
of grievous vultures, pecking ‘round your door?
To yell to hell with palms outstretched, compressed
by dappled fabulists whom you abhor,
is Thebes’ thistle—nothing less and nothing more.
:::come hover near:::
Three beeswax candles burn to brighten Hallow’s Eve.
Pocked faces sneer ‘neath greasepaint; they are dying to deceive!
The wind is whimpering, now wailing, down long lanes
and leaves of caramel and carmine flit at window panes.
May souls who have departed from this spinning sphere,
come hover near the hearths of humans, whom they once held dear.
South End Sunday
I went to South End late last night
to eat some oyster stew
and saw a wicked awesome fight
while sipping on my brew!
Sweet punches flew like fighter planes
from two gigantic men,
until some cops came bearing chains
and passage to the pen!
dashing dinner
There once was a cowherd from Daegu,
who liked reams of red meat in his stew.
Said his wife one warm eve
as she darned his ripped sleeve,
“tonight’s feast ran off, mooing ‘screw you!’”
—————————–
This is an older poem of mine that I came across today. My husband and I lived in Daegu, South Korea from 2012 to 2015. Daegu is pronounced “tay-goo”. The original didn’t include the anapest that is desired for the limerick form, so I am slowly working on putting it in there. This version still needs some work.
sundry folly 