Category: sonnet
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poem 5
searching for a couplet in the dim din of my mindjust a muddle and chaos do I find:too little sleep, too much worry, it alladds up to knock you down – a working stifffinds little peace throughout the week. you fallinto exhaustion’s ruts and wonder ifthe whole damn shitshow isn’t some viciouslie, some trick –…
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A Lilly for Willow
send a flower for our darling dogshe’s been our sunshine these stormy sevenyears but now the Cancer has her and Ican’t even breathe – the shear thought of her gonebleeds my heart to Black. Send a flowerfor my Sweetest wife – how her red, red heartbleeds as well to Black! Our mutual sunshineis ravaged, savaged…
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Yearend Challenge
to write 100 poems by midnight 1 Jan 2024.
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Kali Dances
we went to kinney’s down on sixth becausewe like the jukebox, filled with old jazz and bluesstandards and classics from the nineteen-twentieson. kali especially likes munk and dukeellington and hoagie carmichael, andkali sizzles when she dances, so weall kept her happy, pumping dollars oneafter another and in fives to keepthe music fresh and hopping as…
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undergods of creation
I have just set the sun in the sky, slightlyangled toward afternoon, when my ghost comesto tell me my images are againinfantile like a child drawing with crayons.where are the birds, the jet from chicagostreaming its way to houston, or perhapsa reiterated ‘v’ of migratingfowl—it is the season—and where those leaves,richly colored in the bright…
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Humiliation
this image of the eagles down at ourriver keeps recurring. this bald eagledives lazily, riding gravity, overthe water, skimming just over its top,and then shoots out its talons to grasp a fishbut something goes awry and the fish flopsseveral yards across the river surface.unconcerned, the eagle loops back intothe gloaming sky to make a second…
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Poet & Muse #197
or perhaps bitter . . .
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art to optimism
ughf! dyspeptic morning and the whole dayyet to go. oh, but I took a vow ofoptimism: how am I to face thisin brightness, this overcast novembermorning with my belly aching and headfilled with allergy cobwebs, eyes itchywatering and thus painting the world drabwater color . . . and now, suddenly, I turnmy mind to matisse…
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Filler
this is a filler sonnet. it has littlelife its own, is meant to wedge in betweenpoems in a collection — for you, dearreader, because at this point you’re inun-dated with poetry and likely notpaying close attention, and not everyverse can be a work of genius, evenfrom a writer of great talent or skill. it’s not…
Fringemonkey Scribbles 