Neighbourhood Watch (Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge)

Inspired by and written for Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – thank you GC and Sue

Form: Quatern Sonnet

The curtains twitch across the street
Blue lights and sirens rushing past
Ambulance called for number eight
Daft old Fred has taken a fall
Beneath a lamp Jess and Mike kiss
The curtains twitch across the street
Old Miss Lane is watching again
And Mike lifts a middle finger
I walk past ignoring gossip
Old Ma Lane is telling it all
The curtains twitch across the street
Nothing happens she doesn’t know
But a black car came by today
The curtains shut across the street


Feb. 29, 1958 by Allen Ginsberg

Feb. 29, 1958

Last nite I dreamed of T.S. Eliot
welcoming me to the land of dream
Sofas couches fog in England
Tea in his digs Chelsea rainbows
curtains on his windows, fog seeping in
the chimney but a nice warm house
and an incredibly sweet hooknosed
Eliot he loved me, put me up,
gave me a couch to sleep on,
conversed kindly, took me serious
asked my opinion on Mayakovsky
I read him Corso Creeley Kerouac
advised Burroughs Olson Huncke
the bearded lady in the Zoo, the
intelligent puma in Mexico City
6 chorus boys from Zanzibar
who chanted in wornout polygot
Swahili, and the rippling rythyms
of Ma Rainey and Vachel Lindsay.
On the Isle of the Queen
we had a long evening’s conversation
Then he tucked me in my long
red underwear under a silken
blanket by the fire on the sofa
gave me English Hottie
and went off sadly to his bed,
Saying ah Ginsberg I am glad
to have met a fine young man like you.
At last, I woke ashamed of myself.
Is he that good and kind? Am I that great?
What’s my motive dreaming his
manna? What English Department
would that impress? What failure
to be perfect prophet’s made up here?
I dream of my kindness to T.S. Eliot
wanting to be a historical poet
and share in his finance of Imagery-
overambitious dream of eccentric boy.
God forbid my evil dreams come true.
Last nite I dreamed of Allen Ginsberg.
T.S. Eliot would’ve been ashamed of me

Allen Ginsberg 1926-1997

Allen Ginsberg
Born: 3 June 1926, New Jersey, USA
Nationality: American
Died: 5 April 1997, New York, USA

Ginsberg was a poet, philosopher, and writer. In the 1940s as a student of Columbia College he began a close friendship with WS Burroughs and Jack Kerouac, forming the core of the Beat Generation. He opposed militarism, economic materialism, and sexual repression. He embodied various aspects of this counterculture with his views on drugs, openness to Eastern religions, and hostility to bureaucracy. Ginsberg is best known for the poem ‘Howl’ which denounces the destructive forces of capitalism and conformity within the United States at the time

A Fine Bromance

A Fine Bromance
Form: Canadian Sonnet (English)

Love is the honoured man, a soul’s own twin
Who, without the need for family blood,
Stands as a brother and my bestest bud
And knows all the secrets beneath my skin
In modern terms they call it a bromance
Okay, I suppose it could be called that
It is love nonetheless for modern chat
Devoted spirits taking the same stance
I have his back and I know he has mine
Nothing comes between brothers of the soul
As in each other emotions console
So, I need no modern words to define
I’m Jeeves to his Wooster, or switch it round
We are gentlemen’s gents, to me that is sound


Delicate Kisses (Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge)

Inspired by and written for Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – thank you, Sue and GC

Form: Quatern

This winter’s night when snowflakes fall
Soft, white, glistening in moonlight
And more follow as drifts begun
By delicate little snowflakes
They’re floating down on frosty air
This winter’s night when snowflakes fall
Loveliness of purity white
Swirling over the dirty streets
We step outside my love and I
Catching one or two on gloved hands
This winter’s night when snowflakes fall
Beautiful snow is our delight
As the delicate kisses chill
The snow making our faces smile
For dawn will bring fields blanket white
This winter’s night when snowflakes fall


Rime Couée Notes

The Rime Couée is a French form written over two rhymes. The first is a rhyming couplet of eight syllables then a shorter third line of six lines. The two couplets rhyme as do the shorter lines. This gives a form pattern of



Butterfly Dance by JezzieG

Slowly feasting on petaled rose
Nature’s gift as the summer glows
She flutters through the pink
It’s on her wings her beauty shows
Black, white, and red that nature chose
In pink she’s dark as ink

A nectar morsel here and there
For her life is short and unfair
Pollen shared, she moves on
A brief career but does she dare
For one more day of grace to share
While flitting in the sun

Moonlit Snow

Moonlit Snow
Form: Ivorian Sonnet 89 (trimeter)

Late night falling of snow
White outside my window
In my hand a warm mug
Hot chocolate good night
Beneath the duvet shrug
To the place of my dreams
Where I know I’ll find you
Among the lunar beams
Waiting; you always do
Your kiss like fondant creams
Make me feel sweet delight
Just dreams of me and you
Of moonlight in the snow
How I miss your warm hug


Ballyhoo (WOTDC)

Inspired by and written for the Word of the Day Challenge – my thanks to Cyranny

Definition: Ballyhoo – n. extravagant publicity or fuss; v. praise or publicize extravagantly

Synonyms: publicity, advertising, promotion, marketing, propaganda, push

Form: Haiku

new feathers ruffled
beckoning come hither, come
rituals of spring
marketing talents
attracting a friendly mate
a bird must put out
competition’s tough
social skills, self-promotion
his feathers are best


Snail (RDP)

Inspired by and written for Ragtag Daily Prompt – my thanks to Drkottaway

Form: Kimo

summer days hunting starfish in rock pools
a crab caught my toe instead
not too hard, nothing bled
the hunt went on, the shiny pebbles wet
from the now departing waves
the tide out what to find
beneath cliffs, I found a treasure of life
scurrying in the still pool
waiting the sea’s return
in this simplicity, life speaks out loud
cycles of time come and go
take each day as it comes


Volcanic Fireburst Notes

Created by: Jose Rizal M. Reyes
Structure: Three quatrains and a couplet
Meter: Pentameter or decasyllabic
Rhyme Scheme: abba ccDD eeDD ff, D lines are feminine rhyme


Barefoot Youth by Larry Eberhart

In summertime I never would wear shoes
unless I hiked the rocky mountainside,
and nearly all my time was spent outside,
and shoes I’d choose most happily to lose.

My preference helped mother make ends meet
I felt no anguish playing in bare feet.
My family had its very own depression
and bought me shoes when school began its session.

I felt a pride in having feet so tough,
(it proved that I was made of sterner stuff.)
When roads of tar got hot there was no question,
I’d stand on them to make a deep impression.

My feet today have nothing wrong at all
though other parts succumb to aging’s call


Form: Haibun

Sitting beneath the arch of sweet, scented jasmine the hot summer night murmurs with memories. Gentle breezes once kissed by the sea wistfully cool the sultry air. Still the night is heavy with emptiness as the pen struggles for simple words.
only love echoes
across a dark summer’s night
poet can but weep


Dreams (RDP)

Inspired by and written for Ragtag Daily Prompts – my thanks to Punam

Definition: Dreams – n. a series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person’s mind during sleep

Synonyms: fantasy, nightmare, vision, hallucination, reverie, trance, haze

Form: The Fib

or foretelling days
what was and what could be entwined
or simply hallucinations within a trance state


Gripe (YDWP)

Inspired by and written for Your Daily Word Prompt – my thanks to Sheryl

Definition: Gripe – v. complain about something in a persistent, irritating way

Synonyms: complain, grumble, moan, groan, protest, whine, bleat

Form: Gogyohka

the tummy grumbles it’s hungry
protesting the diet
I moan my jeans are too loose
but medics bleat again
body mass still overweight


Said It Out Loud

Said It Out Loud
Form: Free Verse

before I understood
I was nothing much
and never anything worth thinking about
just a rhythm out of beat
playing the wrong tune
in a world of misunderstanding
that I would never fit in
I said it out loud
and will keep saying it
for in that saying
I became enough for you –
enough to make ridicule
enough to degrade
enough to leave
I’m happy you left


Elbereth by JRR Tolkien


Snow-white! Snow-white! O lady clear!
O Queen beyond the Western Sea!
O Light to us that wander here
Amid the world of woven trees!

Gilthoniel! O Elbereth!
Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath.
Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee
In a far land beyond the Sea.

O stars that in the Sunless Year
With shining hand by her were sown,
In windy fields now bright and clear
We see your silver blossom blown.

O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees,
Thy starlight on the Western Seas.

A Elbereth Gilthoniel,
Silivren penna miriel
O menal aglar elenath!
Na-chaered palan-diriel
O galadhremmin ennorath,
Fanuilos, le linnathon
nef aear, si nef aearon!

Ai! laurie lantar lassi surinen!
Yeni unotime ve ramar aldaron,
Yeni ve linte yuldar vanier
Mi oromardi lisse-miruvoreva
Andune pella Vardo tellumar
Nu luini yassen tintilar i eleni
Omaryo airetari-lirinen.

Si man i yulma nin enquantuva?

An si Tintalle Varda Oilosseo
Ve fanyar maryat Elentari ortane,
Ar ilye tier undulare lumbule;
Ar sindanoriello caita mornie
I falmalinnar imbe met, ar hisie
Untupa Calaciryo miri oiale.
Si vanwa na, Romello vanwa, Valimar!
Namarie! Nai hiruvalye Valimar.
Nai elye hiruva. Namarie!

Ah! Like gold fall the leaves in the wind,
Long years numberless as the wings of trees!
The long years have passed like swift draughts of the sweet mead
In lofty halls beyond the West
Beneath the blue vaults of Varda
Wherein the stars tremble in the song of her voice,
Holy and queenly.

Who now shall refill the cup for me?

For now the Kindler, Varda,
The Queen of the Stars, from Mount Everwhite
Has uplifted her hands like clouds,
And all paths are drowned deep in shadow;
And out of a grey country darkness lies on the foaming waves between us,
And mist covers the jewels of Calacirya for ever.
Now lost, lost to those from the East is Valimar!

Farewell! Maybe thou shalt find Valimar.
Maybe even thou shalt find it! Farewell!

Gilthoniel A Elbereth!
A Elbereth Gilthoniel
O menel palan-diriel,
Le nallon si dinguruthos!
A tiro nin, Fanuilos!

A! Elbereth Gilthoniel!
Silivren penna miriel
O menal aglar elenath,
Gilthoniel, A! Elbereth!
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees
Thy starlight on the Western Seas.

JRR Tolkien 1892-1973

JRR Tolkien
Born: 3 January 1892, Bloemfontein, South Africa
Nationality: English
Died: 2 September 1973, Bournemouth, England

Tolkien was a writer and philologist, best known as the author of “The Hobbit” and “The Lord of the Rings.” He was also the Rawlinson and Bosworth Professor of Anglo-Saxon and a Fellow of Pembroke College at the University of Oxford. He and his close friend CS Lewis founded the informal literary group “The Inklings.” Many authors published works of fantasy before Tolkien, however, the great success of both “The Hobbit” and “The Lord of the Rings” directly led to a resurgence in the genre and Tolkien is often referred to as the father of modern fantasy literature

Risible (WOTDC)

Inspired by and written for the Word of the Day Challenge – my thanks to Kristian

The example sentence given by Kristian is risible in itself – that’ll do

Form: Interlocking Pathya Vat

met on a beach
her bikini
was too teeny
his eyes saw cheek
lustful feelings
as passions speak
resistance weak
persuading words
sat on the rocks
watching seabirds
it seems absurd
he bought ice cream
while evening fell
and time would seem
to be a dream
she spoke intent
“We need a room
for pleasurement”
he has a tent
she said “that’ll do”


Utensil (YDWP)

Inspired by and written for Your Daily Word Prompt – my thanks to Sheryl

Definition: Utensil – n. a tool, container, or other article, especially for household use

Synonyms: implement, tool, instrument, device, apparatus, gadget, appliance

Form: Pathya Vat

kitchen diva
with the mod cons
the latest ones
must have gadgets
slow cooked dinners
while frothing milk
latte like silk
and baking cake
some get used
and some do not
some I forgot
in the cupboard
implements of life
or instruments
of tortured vents
still peeling spuds


Decalogue by Ambrose Bierce


Thou shalt no God but me adore:
‘Twere too expensive to have more.

No images nor idols make
For Roger Ingersoll to break.

Take not God’s name in vain: select
A time when it will have effect.

Work not on Sabbath days at all,
But go to see the teams play ball.

Honor thy parents. That creates
For life insurance lower rates.

Kill not, abet not those who kill;
Thou shalt not pay thy butcher’s bill.

Kiss not thy neighbor’s wife, unless
Thine own thy neighbor doth caress.

Don’t steal; thou’lt never thus compete
Successfully in business. Cheat.

Bear not false witness–that is low–
But “hear ’tis rumored so and so.”

Covet thou naught that thou hast got
By hook or crook, or somehow, got

Ambrose Bierce 1842-c1914

Ambrose Bierce
Born: 24 June 1842. Ohio, USA
Nationality: American
Died: c.1914, Chihuahua Desert, Mexico?

Bierce was a journalist, poet, short story writer, and American Civil War veteran. His book “The Devil’s Dictionary” was named one of the ! 00 Greatest Masterpieces of American Literature by the American Revolution Bicentennial Administration. A prolific writer Bierce was regarded as one of the most influential journalists in the USA and a pioneer of realist fiction

Dreamy State

Dreamy State
Form: Epistle Sonnet 8

Where reality and fantasy blur
And the seawater mingles with the sky
Lies the one place where I’ll always find her
My very own Venus dressed in her fur
When my eyes drift to that dreamy state
For ours is the love that keeps rolling by
I know she’s there when the waiting is done
As the sun gives way to another night
I close my eyes so senses integrate
Hers and mine and as our passions ignite
Longings of desire begin to sate
Once more we are one for a love-filled night
Until my heart must again be undone
With the light rising on a new day’s sun


Museum (RDP)

Inspired by and written for Ragtag Daily Prompt – my thanks to CuriousCat

Most museums have art galleries, and most galleries have old paintings in them. Either way, it is a reminder of history changing our world

Form: Bina

The fish and chip shop queue
A moment gone but held in art
Can Deliveroo be seen as art
Friday supper without a queue
Brief conversations in a queue what now for modern art?


7:00 a.m.

7:00 a.m.
Form: Free Verse

The pulse races
when passions are liquid hot
not even your kiss can staunch the flow of lust
and the delicate pearls of sweat form on your brow
I know your hunger is melting too
I feel it bubbling on your lips as we kiss
you start to whisper a breeze on my ear
all I can say
“just kiss me, baby, just kiss me”
my body burning like molten rock
and coolness of your hands on my hips
your mouth sizzling down my bare chest
anticipation raging for the drag of your nail
over the fly off my jeans
my jeans
my jeans?
“you left them before you fell, babe
before you fell
you fell”
too late I am lost to your lips taking me in
into the depths of sweet penetration
what the hell is that noise
piercing my brain without mercy
another plastic box shatters against the wall
damn you alarm
can you not let me dream?


Children Selecting Books in A Library by Randall Jarrell

Children Selecting Books in A Library

With beasts and gods, above, the wall is bright.
The child’s head, bent to the book-colored shelves,
Is slow and sidelong and food-gathering,
Moving in blind grace … yet from the mural, Care
The grey-eyed one, fishing the morning mist,
Seizes the baby hero by the hair
And whispers, in the tongue of gods and children,
Words of a doom as ecumenical as dawn
But blanched like dawn, with dew.
The children’s cries
Are to men the cries of crickets, dense with warmth
— But dip a finger into Fafnir, taste it,
And all their words are plain as chance and pain.
Their tales are full of sorcerers and ogres
Because their lives are: the capricious infinite
That, like parents, no one has yet escaped
Except by luck or magic; and since strength
And wit are useless, be kind or stupid, wait
Some power’s gratitude, the tide of things.
Read meanwhile … hunt among the shelves, as dogs do, grasses,
And find one cure for Everychild’s diseases
Beginning: Once upon a time there was
A wolf that fed, a mouse that warned, a bear that rode
A boy. Us men, alas! wolves, mice, bears bore.
And yet wolves, mice, bears, children, gods and men
In slow preambulation up and down the shelves
Of the universe are seeking … who knows except themselves?
What some escape to, some escape: if we find Swann’s
Way better than our own, an trudge on at the back
Of the north wind to — to — somewhere east
Of the sun, west of the moon, it is because we live
By trading another’s sorrow for our own; another’s
Impossibilities, still unbelieved in, for our own …
“I am myself still?” For a little while, forget:
The world’s selves cure that short disease, myself,
And we see bending to us, dewy-eyed, the great
CHANGE, dear to all things not to themselves endeared

Randall Jarrell 1914-1965

Randall Jarrell
Born: 6 May 1914, Tennessee, USA
Nationality: American
Died: 14 October 1965, North Carolina, USA

Jarrell was a literary critic, children’s author, essayist, novelist, and poet. He was the 11th Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress. Jarrell received the Guggenheim Fellowship award for 1947-48, and the National Book Award for Poetry in 1961

Descort Notes

The main rule of the Descort poem is that each line needs to be different from every other line in the poem. Therefore the poem has varying line lengths, and meters, no rhyme, and no refrains.


Turn of Season by JezzieG

No more daffodils sway in the lane
The spring has lost the dancing breeze
Replaced by April’s tears of rain
Frogs are courting by the slippery logs
Never asking more than a brief encounter
And as April turns to May
Dog bark in the green grass fields
Amid the budding dandelions
And yellow buttercups
And the summer begins to blossom

Death’s Bloom (Simply 6 Minutes)

Inspired by and written for Simply 6 Minutes – thank you, Christine

Form: Cymraeg Soned

Withering summer’s end
Omens send warning’s call
A fate wishes cannot change
Exchange me I’ll give my all
A raven’s heart breaks in two
Half for you to hold me near
Our paths must part for awhile
This vile thing has found our fear
There is no cure left, they said
You’ll be dead; I mustn’t cry
“stay strong, babe, stay strong for me”
How can I be? How? How? Why?
Without you my poems are prose
Raven weeps for his dying Rose

Internal rhyme and Welsh meter – no way it will be done in 6 minutes

Not a day goes by I don’t miss Gabbie – this raven is broken until…

Time: 20 minutes

Word Count: 63


Sunday Sonnet: Gipsies by John Clare

John Clare 1793-1864

The snow falls deep; the forest lies alone;
The boy goes hasty for his load of brakes,
Then thinks upon the fire and hurries back;
The gipsy knocks his hands and tucks them up,
And seeks his squalid camp, half hid in snow,
Beneath the oak which breaks away the wind,
And bushes close in snow like hovel warm;
There tainted mutton wastes upon the coals,
And the half-wasted dog squats close and rubs,
Then feels the heat too strong, and goes aloof;
He watches well, but none a bit can spare,
And vainly waits the morsel thrown away.
‘Tis thus they live – a picture to the place,
A quiet, pilfering, unprotected race

New Toothpaste

New Toothpaste
Form: Raven’s Rovi Sonnet 59

On the shelf is a new tube of mint paste
A different brand from the one I choose
Yet my heart smiles seeing it there so placed
And a shower gel-scented summer rose
Stands next to mine of musky sandalwood
Towelling down; scent of coffee you chose
Decaffeinated is doing me good
You’re wearing my t-shirt I suppose
And my fluffy robe too, is yours to use
I am making note of things I should get
My jeans clinging to my shower-damp waist
A slow Sunday morning maybe we could
Just go back to bed and build up some sweat
Reliving the moments we’ll never forget


Englyn Byr Cwca Notes

The Englyn Byr Cwca is a Welsh form utilizing both end and internal rhyme. Composed of tercets (3-line stanzas). Line 1 has 7 syllables, line 2 has 10 syllables, and line 3 has 6 syllables. Lines 1 and 3 end rhyme and line 2 rhymes with a syllable within line 3.


Myth and Legend by JezzieG

I am the custodian
protecting courage in every part
the brave heart’s guardian

I’m the echoing legend
that speaks of the brave deeds of long ago
so, on me you depend

I am myth and memory
remembered in fireside tales told by bards
in shards of poetry

Woodland Mile

Woodland Mile
Form: Gwawdodyn Byr

This time of year as the season’s change
And winter’s reach seems to disarrange
Sunshine so strange as it deceives the eye
It is not so warm out here on the range
Days are longer and the nights get short
Life returns and wild things now court
A love’s consort among the budding trees
And yellow daffodils outside the fort
My willow tree holds her hints of green
Above the swollen white rushing stream
New tendrils dream; too soon for them to trail
The cool flowing waters beneath her beam
But still I’ll sit here with her a while
At her peace within the woodland mile
Perhaps I feel her smile as seasons turn
To the earth’s rebirth in the springtime style


Espinela Notes

Created by Vincente Espinel, a Spanish poet, the Espinela consists of two stanzas, four end rhymes over 10 lines. The first stanza is a quatrain and the second stanza is a sestet. Each line is tetrameter or 8-syllables. The rhyme scheme is as follows:

abba accddc


Nights of Romancing by JezzieG

How I wish we could go dancing
Like we did in those olden days
Moving rhythm as music plays
In those nights of our romancing

Warm nights of summer entrancing
Enchanting love for you and me
Walking beside the starlit sea
Stroll back home; a bottle of wine
On those nights that were so divine
As we kissed setting our love free

Father Death Blues (Don’t Grow Old, Part V) by Allen Ginsberg

Father Death Blues (Don’t Grow Old, Part V)

Hey Father Death, I’m flying home
Hey poor man, you’re all alone
Hey old daddy, I know where I’m going

Father Death, Don’t cry any more
Mama’s there, underneath the floor
Brother Death, please mind the store

Old Aunty Death Don’t hide your bones
Old Uncle Death I hear your groans
O Sister Death how sweet your moans

O Children Deaths go breathe your breaths
Sobbing breasts’ll ease your Deaths
Pain is gone, tears take the rest

Genius Death your art is done
Lover Death your body’s gone
Father Death I’m coming home

Guru Death your words are true
Teacher Death I do thank you
For inspiring me to sing this Blues

Buddha Death, I wake with you
Dharma Death, your mind is new
Sangha Death, we’ll work it through

Suffering is what was born
Ignorance made me forlorn
Tearful truths I cannot scorn

Father Breath once more farewell
Birth you gave was no thing ill
My heart is still, as time will tell

Allen Ginsberg 1926-1997

Allen Ginsberg
Born: 3 June 1926, New Jersey, USA
Nationality: American
Died: 5 April 1997, New York, USA

Ginsberg was a poet, philosopher, and writer. In the 1940s as a student of Columbia College, he began a close friendship with WS Burroughs and Jack Kerouac, forming the core of the Beat Generation. He opposed militarism, economic materialism, and sexual repression. He embodied various aspects of this counterculture with his views on drugs, openness to Eastern religions, and hostility to bureaucracy. Ginsberg is best known for the poem ‘Howl’ which denounces the destructive forces of capitalism and conformity within the United States at the time

Exuviate (AWAD)

Inspired by A Word a Day – my thanks to Anu Garg

Definition: exuviate – v. to shed or cast off

Synonyms: moult, shed, slough, peel off, cast off, drop, throw off, throw away

Form: Tanka

she’s shedding winter
slowly revealing the spring
in the fresh green shades
from beneath first shoots appear
of life and new beginnings


Epistle Sonnet Notes

Created by: JezzieG
Structure: Triplet, Quintain, Quatrain, and Couplet
Meter: Poet’s choice
Rhyme Scheme: aba abcde cdcd ee
Notes: The order of the end rhymes of the quintain are in any order, giving 120 variants.


A Birth by JezzieG
Quintain – abcde

The sonnet for so long has echoed my voice
With words and lines my lips find hard to say
In saddest despair and love to rejoice

For the epistles it’s an easy choice
To let my own thoughts flow out in this way
Whilst testing out this, a new sonnet form
Joining the Rovi and Ivor as one
Twisting the rhyme scheme just one more time

And letting them mingle in a brainstorm
A triplet and quintet but can it be done
A quatrain and a couplet, that’s a norm
Just messing with the rhymes, I think I won

Now, the closing lines left to end this rhyme
And I have a sonnet mountain to climb

Flowers Desire

Flowers Desire
Form: Gwawdodyn

Is there a living that can come by
Away from the capitalist lie
As folks make their way stop by to say hey
Where flowers desire the birds to fly
How can such a place now ever be
To face the angry modernity
The innocent lose but why can’t we choose
To break out from the strife and live free


Bitter (YDWP)

Inspired by and written for Your Daily Word Prompt – my thanks to Sheryl

Definition: Bitter – adj. having a sharp, pungent taste or smell; not sweet; feeling or showing anger, hurt, or resentment because of bad experiences or a sense of unjust treatment

Synonyms: sharp, acid, pungent, acrid, tart, sour, biting, resentful, embittered, aggrieved, dissatisfied, disgruntled

Form: Lune

dissatisfied grapes
in acrimony
such bitter lemons
tart and sour
not sweet lemonade


Chafe (YDWP)

Inspired by and written for Your Daily Word Prompt – my thanks to Sheryl

Definition: Chafe – v. (with reference to a part of the body) make or become sore by rubbing against something; rub (a part of the body) to restore warmth or sensation

Synonyms: abrade, graze, grate, gall, skin, rub, warm

Form: Haiku

the worn-down circles
grazing the sturdy old boughs
where kids used to swing


Ophelia among the Flowers

Ophelia among the Flowers by Odilon Redon,1905-08. Pastel on paper. National Gallery, London. UK

Ophelia among the Flowers
Form: Gwawdodyn Hir

In beauty, a lady doomed to die
Suicide, accident, both ask why
A young girl rests in a sleep-like sigh
Ill-fated dreaming just passing by
Beauty is hidden in nature’s flowers
Such are the powers where the angels fly


Elegy Notes

A song of sorrow or mourning, the Elegy is often for or about someone who has died. However, poets being poets and just that bit contrary on such matters, have also written elegies for the end of something such as a love affair, a holiday, or even a year. Form, meter, and structure are not important, content is what matters.


Silence of Twilight by JezzieG

In that cold silence of twilight
when the ashes of love faded
but never burned out
the moon rose in mourning
to ease my crying heart
as my eyes wept into the night
into the aloneness my life would be
yet as the sun rose in his golden wonder
I felt a warm embrace
reminding me I am not alone
for you will always be with me


Form: Free Verse

Our love woven like delicate Belgian lace
intricate strands combining
forming a beautiful design
like a lilac in flower
sharing its fragrance on the cool morning air
combining with the aroma of sun-kissed dew
and the wild mint growing by the pond
pungent and earthy
delicate yet strong
our love was the fierce winter wind
entwined with a warm summer breeze
embracing the golden light of sunrise
with the flaming skies of twilight
for we were the moon and the sun
mingled in the flames of love