Tags

,

This has been a busy week for me and although I’ve been writing poems, I haven’t always been posting them. So this is a two-fer to get me caught up.

The Napowrimo prompt for today was to do a ghazal which is a complicated form to my mind with repetition and rhyme being paramount. You can read about it here and on Wikipedia here.

My ghazal started somewhere else and I decided to try to poke it into that shape. Almost that is.

 Twisted

We take the bright ideas, and twist their bones
Can’t seem to keep a good thing well enough alone.

Simple sharing morphs to monetized exchange
Can’t seem to let goodwill stand, tough it out, alone.

We make statements guaranteed to start a fight
Can’t keep our opinions shut, muzzled, and atone.

In this love story there are too many demands
I dare to keep them gruffly to myself alone

Nonetheless my body finds itself too close
Can’t keep my hands to myself or you enough alone.

Being a third of the way through April, I’m having a bit of a crisis of confidence. The best thing to do is to keep writing.

So I started here:

Discomfit

What can I say that hasn’t been said before.
The various recipes of words and phrases,
The good ones used up by greater poets,
Leaving the lesser, crumbs to a broken table.

What can I say that hasn’t been sung before
Hung to a staff of notes and magic
The novel, the musical, the witty, the beautiful, all taken
So that even the chirp of birds scatters to noise.

#    #    #

(then) a word comes, or a scene
My mind wanders, returns with a bright string
Flung with the rest, shimmers in true meaning
Imagine:  a sliver of a new thing.

 

And then to another place (not posted) and then went here:

Discomfit x 3
What can I say that hasn’t been said before.
language is used up, all the poets dead in time before.
leaving the lesser crumbs to a broken table.
I come to eat with a certain shattered dread.

To hang on to a staff of notes and magic
what can I say that hasn’t been sung before
even the chirp of birds scatters to noise.
Hope then for music, eased as breath was once.

A word comes, or a scene
my mind wanders, returns with a thread
that shimmers flung with the rest of findings
Imagine: a sliver of a new thing, instead of the sadness of before.

 

Not totally satisfied. But like a toddler I pick myself up for another go around the block.

Advertisements