By JLR
| Author Notes |
3/5/3 Passion Contest
Thanks for the use of "Love fractal design" by Joelgraphuchin on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
| Author Notes |
Candlelight Poetry--week of 12-20-2019
The challenge this week--Candlelight ( does NOT have to be about candles, light, etc. can be about ANYTHING). Author's choice of topic. ***17 lines ***centered on page ***syllabic as follows: 5-5-5-4-4-3-2-2-2-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-7 ***Rhyme scheme: aabbccxxxxxxxxxxx (x is UNRHYMED) The light of the star lit sky sparkles, beams. gleams and then when a stars life ends it just goes dark. My sincere thanks for the use of this by Photo by Phil Botha on Unsplash |
By JLR
| Author Notes |
My First work with the poetic style A Triolet:
A Triolet is a poetic form consisting of only 8 lines. Within a Triolet, the 1st, 4th, and 7th lines repeat, and the 2nd and 8th lines do as well. The rhyme scheme is simple: ABaAabAB, to make writing this Triolet more challenging, this is written in pentameter (English version) where each line only has 10 syllables (5 metrical feet). Thanks for the use of "Wishing upon a Star," by cleo85 on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
| Author Notes |
Nonet of my favorite animal
Thanks for the use of "The African White Rhino" by collins24 on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
Winnowing winter winds,
whoosh, the trees breathe in the air
stirred by the clouds rushing across the sky.
Rustling, wilted leaves deftly, with a dare
of the wind, to rush ever brisker, harder try.
Winnowing winter winds,
Swirling layers of decayed leaves demoting,
carried upward upon air currents, floating
Twirling down from the tallest branches,
feathers rock back and forth in slow-motion.
Seeing the wavering bark flit off the birches
trunk, seeking drops of water for absorption.
Winnowing winter winds,
gentle winds, and winter seizes hold of time.
Brisk winds and winters grip relaxes.
A steady breeze is rattling the largest of chimes.
Willowing breeze, winter season waxes.
| Author Notes |
Willowing winds carry winter away. Rhythm scheme RababRccdedeRfgfg (R:refrain)
Thank you for the use of Birch Dance by alexisart on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
I awoke to grey skies this morn,
lingering stiffness is my bane.
Aged, frail, my emotions forlorn
raindrops crescendo off the pane.
Winters seem to linger longer
with gentle rains tapping refrain
wanting sunlight brighter, stronger
raindrops crescendo off the pane.
The little wren with feathers wet
sits with rain cleansing his domain
flitting his wings to shake away
raindrops, crescendo off the pane.
The morning hours pass, still I plea
to let the sun's rays dance again.
Asking the wren to please, agree!
raindrops crescendo off the pane.
| Author Notes |
Potlatch Club Contest
Related to love--something you love--anything such as rain, trees, people etc. Please keep it clean. Length AT LEAST 8 lines. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Kyrielle *A Kyrielle is a French form of rhyming poetry written in quatrains (a stanza consisting of 4 lines, I used the following: abaBcbcBdbdBefeB with B being the refrain. thank you for the use A Bird In The Rain is Worth IT by eileen0204 on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
All that glitters is not gold, but
The gold that glitters is desired more.
Gold, it has been said, "is the King's
ransom." but is it so?
Gold, more handsome and pure,
melted in the fiery cauldrons
becoming glorified coins, treasured.
Consider; however, gold spun by the
honey bee; perhaps containing more
wealth per gram than pure gold,
when counting the number of bees
collecting the nectar from God's flora.
Or, one must consider the gold in the
medals of athletes who compete and
measure the sweat and training the real
value of their coveted treasure.
Or, when bands of gold are heaven blest
to bind the tie of two souls entwined,
these precious symbols have no price.
Or, the gold dust that comes with
stardust dreams, the alchemist
hopes to mix vials so full,
so perchance, schemes will succeed.
And last but not least, the golden stairs,
we expect to ascend in peace-filled glory
when we come to the end of our journey.
| Author Notes |
Free Verser's Club Entry: Gold
Thank you for the use of Golden Moments by Angelheart on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
Around this spinning, twisting, turning, globe
You thought you were the only one
who saw each day; the moon the sun.
Above this spinning, twisting, turning, globe
You thought you were the only one
who, every day had battles to be won.
Beneath this spinning, twisting, turning, globe
You thought you were the only one
who has concern's of our damage done
Beside this spinning, twisting, turning, globe
You thought you were the only one
to see our moral principles undone.
Inside this spinning, twisting, turning, globe
we swirl, we twirl, we wobble, we hobble,
from birth to death; we run and run and run!
| Author Notes |
Abstract art poem,
Thank you for the use of "Cracked Egg: by jgrace on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
It is said in some of the eastern traditions that if a soul has not completed its work in a lifetime, that it departs and will sit resting in the primordial stew of the cosmos until there is a “BAM.” This soul is then reestablished in the womb to begin another life cycle to complete its learning process. This soul repeats whatever the number of cycles required until it achieves Nirvana.
So, begins my story with the “Bam!”
He was thirty, she was sixteen, I was to be their first “Bam” with six to follow. As defined by the patriarchal system and Irish Catholic system I was born into, he, my father, was in my life for a total of six years because my parents separated. I learned that divorce was not allowed unless they lived apart for five years.
I have many adjectives with which to describe him. Ranging from hardened, serious-minded, mood-driven, angry, physically active, distant, non-engaging, domineering, not God-fearing, pessimistic, feared, drunk. What I do not know about him or his family are the things that arise from family gatherings where there is talking and sharing. The simplest of things, such as -- where you went to school, what do you like to do for fun, where did you grow-up, where are your siblings, what makes you laugh, have you ever shed a tear, where did you learn this or that -- these were missing from the family talks. I felt at times like, for some nefarious reason, my father simply didn’t have a beginning, he just was.
Even to this day, I find it hard to describe what it is like to have been born into this family, To have lived with a person, who now has passed on, remains a stranger in the most exact descriptive form of the word.
So, you can imagine when I was seven years old that my mother’s father -- my grandfather, suddenly came into the scene and started making it clear that we "Don't talk to strangers." He would go on to say, “strangers are people we don't know, who could be dangerous. Just like strange things that are odd or weird, a stranger is unknown and, therefore, potentially scary.”
I so bought into this message! Because my father was precisely the perfect example of being a stranger, word for word.
Growing up, she, my mother, was another stranger in my midst. It was only as of the result of my grandfather being open and willing to tell me her story that I gleaned the following from him: He explained that, as was Irish custom, my mother was presented as a child bride. He and his first wife had two daughters. The Balls were from Antrim, and at the ripe young age of sixteen, they arranged for their oldest daughter Iva, whose prospects of a future were in immigrating or going into the nunnery, or as was the case, getting betrothed.
So, it was that mother at age sixteen, along with six sheep and her trunk of "hand me downs" with dowry complete, jumped onto a jaunty cart and moved into rural life to become wife to father. My siblings and I would learn early in life that our mother had a mean streak and, more pathetically, a broken moral compass when she would take to drink. Early in my life, I saw her as robust of will and as the hard-working disciplinarian in the home. Her beatings were often more painfilled than Father's. However, all that changed when we moved to America. She became ill right from the start. I say sick because, over the years from my age of six to seventeen, my mother was always taking some concoction of prescription drugs for her medical conditions.
Outside of what little my grandfather told us about the betrothal, I really knew nothing about her as a person. I did not know how solid her faith was, what type of music she liked or disliked if she had a goal in life or what was her greatest fear, her greatest hope. I felt a great depth of regret as my mother continued to morph into more the role of a stranger than the role of a mother. I pulled further and further away into my little shell of introversion and quiet spaces that even carried over into school. For eleven more years, she became someone as the definition reflects: strangers are people we don't know, who could be dangerous. In fact, she crossed the line – a person should never cross over with a child born unto a mother. This crossing over the line resulted in a severed relationship. My mother died in 1988 at the age of fifty-four. The last time we talked, she was thirty-three.
As I started living on my own at seventeen, I was able to function quite well, as life took me along my traveled pathways. I was rooted in my introversion and found being a person who ran in the periphery of circles worked quite well for me, My work ethic paved the way for me to get doors open that might have been closed to less focused people.
My military service as a medical-surgical nurse was a perfect place to continue to build my instinctual habit of keeping an arm’s length, keep the topic-specific, and never getting close to a person habituated my ongoing lifestyle. Name and rank only, never where do you call home, how many siblings do you have, are you married, have a fiancée, where did you go to school, nothing that would break into more than a surface knowledge of any one patient. Getting too familiar was a risk, in that many of the patients did not survive, and it was easier to deal with this harsh reality as a fact - life was so damned fragile.
Post military, I became a stranger unto my own self. My attitude coming back stateside was a rebel, reacting harshly to what was happening around me. I was not going to let the hatred toward Viet Nam veterans dampen my attitude to get on with the future, keeping people crossing my path as strangers, was in full force as a safety barrier.
My career shift into a sales role was a goldmine to feed my selfishness. I was able to pick who I wanted to let into my outer circle to get the sale. The purpose of customer entertainment fit me to a tee. Golfing, dinners, fishing trips, box seats to all the big games and events. Just fill out the expense report, keep the customer happy, get the deal done -- that was the mantra from the top down. Boy, I was good at it!
The problem was my stability eroded when I became a stranger in my own midst. Life became my own personal nightmare when I could not stuff my family of origin crap, my divorce from a ten-year marriage, my inability to maintain the pace of the wining and dining. I came to a place where I could not eat food like ordinary people, I was caught in an unmanageable binge-purge eating cycle that nearly ended my life. It required me to admit, I, like my father, was an alcoholic.
Telling a total stranger, the truth for the first time in my life about the cesspool of existence that I had been planted into and cultivated for thirty plus years was a mucky, nasty, and untillable wasteland. I was thirty-eight! It began with therapy to slowly peel away the layers of a lifetime one thin layer at a time. It was a God moment that this therapist called me out: She said, “tell me how much you drink.” Some called it denial when I was confronted about my drinking. I said, “I don’t have a problem, I drink all the time.” A full functioning alcoholic – perfect for the sales jobs of the mid-seventies. This stranger called me out – I went to my first AA meeting.
I turned my life and my will over to something greater than myself and began taking in life with a more clear prism to see the world for what it was and what I needed to do to survive and then learn to thrive in it.
It was at this juncture that I made it a point to never meet a stranger again. Today, I meet people wherever they are in life. Whether glad, bad, ugly, sad, I meet them eye to eye as the embodiment of the Christ that dwells within the hearts of every individual.
It is my job, my responsibility, to mirror back that God-Image to everyone I meet.
| Author Notes |
A bold, honest reflection of my feelings about living with the stranger's in your own family and within your own self. My hope is someone may read this and reflect on their own situation and realize that, in spite of all of this, you can soar on the wings of life!
Thank you for the use of Caught Between by Trajan on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
| Author Notes |
TWENTY WORD POEM ENTRY
Thanks for the use of photo from digital blasphemy.com |
By JLR
Out of the primordial cosmos we are
steeped and grown in mother's womb
released into people's arms, held close,
with innocence, then instantly bloom.
Watching intently with our minds-eye
we learned we are loved more when we cry,
toddling upward we move closer to the sky.
As more years came, more years went by.
The college scene brought people to toast
As young lasses and lads bring on love and doom
Until we found the one who, we just know, we will love most.
We dated and lived large, perhaps, as a bride and groom.
We wrestled with careers, mortgages, and diapers not dry,
watching, hearing, surviving the terrible two's questions why,
as the teenagers' woes began to churn and make them and us cry.
Until they soon leave our nests and begin to solo, fly.
So, retired now, with wise counsel, we are careful not to quarrel,
as we watch our children's children being carefully groomed.
We do joyously acknowledge we have no regrets or no sorrows,
because in this life, we have partaken our share and fully consumed.
| Author Notes |
From the cosmos, through the womb, into life with all of its stages never rehearsed just lived.
thanks for the use of, "Threads of Life" by jgrace on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
Dr. King:
If only, people could open the doors to your departed soul!
Replay your voice, hear again your powerful passionate plea
for man to see man's inhumanity to man.
If only, people could open the doors to your departed soul
Simply because we need to hear again and yet again...
judge not the color of a person's skin.
If only people could open the doors to your departed soul!
To hear the cries that you and yours heard the pleas --
please see me, see who I am, do not see the color of my skin.
If only people could open the doors of your departed soul!
To see the tear-streaked faces of mothers losing sons,
daughter's and husband's, because of the color of their skin.
If only people could open the doors of your departed soul!
To taste the vile words spoken with such hate, such anger
Simply out of complexities about the color of someone's skin.
If only people could open the doors of your departed soul!
To smell the burning embers of churches destroyed because
others feared, out of ignorance, the color of someone's skin.
If only people could open the doors of your departed soul!
And simply say with great honesty, "Thank you, Martin Luther,"
As God surely said, "My son! Job well done!"
If only people could open the doors of your departed soul!
And reclaim your vision, your voice, your mind, your zest.
Renew the vision, continue the talks, invite the conversation.
If only people could open the doors of your departed soul!
Recall the plea for peace and equality; for the work to continue
toward a colorless society; here, there and everywhere on earth.
If only people would...what a better world it would be!
| Author Notes | Free verse in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King and his accomplishments and the vacuum his loss has created in far to many ways still today. |
By JLR
| Author Notes |
20-letter Teacup Dictionary Poem
In celebrating Fanstory's 20th Anniversary, let's write a Teacup Dictionary Poem but the word you use must be a 20-letter word. You can find instructions at this website: http://www.poetrydances.com/teacup_dictionary.php Cited:Syllable Dictionary, s.v. "indistinguishability," accessed January 14, 2020. https://www.HowManySyllables.com/words/indistinguishability. 8 syllables Thanks for the use of The Twins by David Ruhl on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
Pondering values left for them,
obligations to not condemn
in trusting the words that were wrote.
What said can never be unspoke!
Over years, at my direction
paths taken by my suggestions,
of sane reasoning for greed's poke,
What said can never be unspoke!
Leaders plead at the journey's end
please, repeat what I can amend
those repeated words will not choke
What's said can never be unspoke!
My desire that the best words minced
even when they made someone wince.
were the words honestly spoken,
What's said can never be unspoke!
Reflect, hiding superstition
reclaim hope, with strong conviction!
One led them far as head spokesman
what's said can never be unspoke!
| Author Notes |
Write a Kyrielle POETRY CONTEST
A kyrielle is made of quatrains that rhyme. Each stanza (that is a quatrain) has a line that repeats, so a line from a previous stanza. That line usually (but does not necessarily have to) be the last line in the stanza. Each line in the poem has eight syllables. There is no limit to the number of stanzas. Usually there are three or more stanzas. Any type of rhyme scheme can be used Thank you for the use of "Let it be Green" by tousif.kabir on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
It's just not a typical city night
where all around seems to be alright.
The street is dark, the breeze is chilling
I feel the stress of another killing.
See them preying in the lonely streets,
aware of people who have succumbed to defeat.
Try as we do.... the death toll still rises
as a new drug king to the top arises.
We struggle for justice as a guiding light
but lose the innocent in the poverty fight.
Hope abandoned in the whine of voices
Forego your hand-out; provide more choices.
| Author Notes |
Pix This Challenge
I see the plight of darkness even on sunny days in the inner city, without hope life becomes a tragic set of near misses, until you are not missed by anyone anymore. |
By JLR
| Author Notes |
Potlatch Poetry Club: Cole's Rhythm--week of 1-3-2020
Topic for Cole's Rhythm--your poem should describe HOW people or animals deal with the cold weather (this isn't describing cold weather like snow, icicles, etc). ~~~~~~~ Coles Rhythm: a new style created by Gungalo, a major force here on Fanstory, who has since departed. She passed away in May of 2014. ~~~~~~~ Syllable count is: 9-6-9-6-3 for each verse. Rhyme scheme: aaaaR bbbbR ccccR ddddR. The "R" is a 3-syllable refrain and each should rhyme or repeat the other in every verse. My sincere thank you for the use of Winter Storm by beppe47 on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
V isions of Christ's hands
E ager to support
S inners on their knees
S earching for God's Grace
E ven through their wet tears
L amenting for words.
O nly heard in the heart
F orever clinging!
Y outhful innocence
O pened to our first breaths
U nderstanding Angels,
R eassurance of Grace!
P rovided to all
R ealizing the call
A dhering solidly
Y ielding to God
E very time, each day
R ight with the "I AM."
| Author Notes |
Poets Choice Submission:
Spirit's Vessel Last word Choice :Prayer Spirit's Vessel, a poetry form created by Christina R Jussaume on April 7, 2008, consists of three stanzas of six lines each of six syllables each. These stanzas must start with the letters VESSEL OF YOUR last word is 6 letters and your choice. The poem must be uplifting in content and spiritual in nature. It may be with or without rhyme. Rhyme is a plus. It should be left-justified. |
By JLR
Friend,
Soul friend!
Listen, please
hear my sorrow.
My Anam Cara
help me move forward and
let words that part my lips soothe
tomorrow pains, my cheeks tear-stained
of despair, born in my soul; does hurt.
Anam Cara, Soul Friend you never fail!
Good or sad times, you have always been there.
Your companionship is like a salve
on an open wound that soothes the
fear, providing a healing
compassionate safe space
where together we,
seeking God's Grace,
find solace
calm, peace
rest!
| Author Notes |
Etheree The poetry form, Etheree, consists of 10 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 syllables. Etheree can also be reversed and written 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Get creative and write an Etheree with more than one verse, but follow suit with an inverted syllable count.
Soul freind is a Double Etheree: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10, 9, 8, 7, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 Anam Cara: Celtic for soul friend, soul companion. Thanks for the use of "close-up-hands-helping-hands" https://www.freepik.com/premium-photo/ |
By JLR
When my little daughter asked, "Daddy, why are your eyes so red?" Little could I tell her it was from the tears all night I shed.
My little sweet child's innocence was staring right into my eyes. This look took all my grit to put a smile upon my face. I hugged her close and told her that the tears I shed were because mommy had gone to live with God.
Holding her close, with head nestled on my chest, I said, "Daughter dearest, mommy fought a long hard battle with cancer that wore her down, and GOD, you see, knew more than me that she simply needed rest."
She tilted her head up toward my chin, and with a sweet tender voice said, "Daddy, I knew mom was sick, she had lost all her hair, and it made me sad, and I was mad at God because it simply didn't seem fair."
I stroked her blond curls and I pulled her closer and said, "It was okay that you felt that way, and God understood you were just sad. Sometimes, our bodies play these dirty tricks and God does all that he can to guide the doctors with their plans. But in the end, God simply knew that her cure was not at hand, and that is why He made a place where she will be at peace and will be watching down at you every day while she is in eternal rest."
Finally, as my daughter relaxed, she said, "Daddy, I'm glad that mommy is no longer sick. I will tell God tonight, thank you and ask him to make my daddy no longer sad."
And with that thought, I pulled her ever more close to me and said, "Sweet daughter, your prayers make your Daddy glad."
| Author Notes |
Through the eyes of child writing prompt - Fiction
Thank you for the use of "Magic Man" by cleo85 on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
In sixty-six the lightning took out the mighty oak!
The shock was not the loss of the tree,
it was because it was on December twelve
then it snowed and snowed and snowed.
Four nights came and five days went
as snow measured from waist-deep to eaves tall
tunnels were dug to get out the big and small
In sixty-six the lightning took out the mighty oak.
Not a car was to be seen,
nor a snowplow could go.
People were in awe of the very deep snow.
The shock was not the loss of the tree!
Most natives warned it was bad as it could be
The snow just piled and piled, burying all the trees.
Then concerns rose about no Christmas possibly,
it was because it was on December twelve.
So much snow, nowhere to go,
There wasn't space to begin to plow
When we thought the worst was finally over,
then it snowed and snowed and snowed.
| Author Notes |
Potlatch Poetry Club Challenge Cascade/ Rules & Info--2-6-2020
________________________________________ CASCADE POETRY Assigned Topic Write a cascade poem on a weather0-related event that YOU PERSONALLY EXPERIENCED FYI--NOT for NOTES ***time period may be from childhood to adulthood (current) ***This isn't the time to write 'I love Spring, Fall , etc. Write about an event that you were part of, such as but NOT limited to, a hurricane, flood, tornado, blizzard, etc. This is to be a TRUE, BIOGRAPHICAL poem. There are many weather-related events--think back to some in YOUR life. ~~~~~~~ Created by Udit Bhatia, the Cascade form is all about receptiveness, but in a smooth cascading way like a waterfall". There is NO set meter OR rhyme scheme. The defining feature of the form is that the lines of the first stanza are repeated as refrain lines in subsequent stanzas to give a "cascading effect". L1 is repeated as the last line of S2, L2 is repeated as the last line of S3, and so on until all lines in S1 have been used. The number of stanzas is, therefore ONE MORE than the number of lines in S1. Thanks for the use of Getty Images |
By JLR
Capture that silver lining
carefully put in a safe place
contained in a satin binding
creating the good of the human race.
Attend to our reckless habits
avoid falling into unhealthy ways.
assist one and all on this planet
allow us to live our prescribed days.
Tell it from the mountain tops
the tumultuous days, a world in peril
trembling fear, worse than the pox.
tragic deaths, from a bug gone viral.
Every day we seek God's Divine plan
enemy and friend together fight this woe
Elucidate all so we might forever stand
Evermore united, under God we'll grow.
| Author Notes |
The Silver Lining, what can we hope for after this all settles down
This is a new poetic style for me: Trolaan Trolaan, created by Valerie Peterson Brown, is a poem consisting of 4 quatrains. Each quatrain begins with the same letter. The rhyme scheme is abab. Starting with the second stanza you use the second letter of the first line of the first stanza to write the second each line beginning with that letter. On the third stanza you will use the second letter on the first line of the second stanza and write the third each line beginning with that letter. On the fourth stanza you will use the second letter on the first line of the third stanza and write the fourth each line beginning with that letter. Thank you for the use of Under Angels Wings by jgrace on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
| Author Notes |
Free Verses Club entry , declaring that each and every one of us can participate, doing our part to pray and be kind to our neighbors and strangers, near and far.
Thanks for the use of Halo Sunrise by greentop on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
Blustery, billowing winds bend leaves
and shake the very roots of trees.
'tis so in the wisp of a gentle breeze
when the blossoms bloom, I sneeze.
Little fawns nimble, nibble on grass
While the fox and the hare romp pass.
Bold stream gushes rushes over boulders
while waterfall's mist tickles my shoulders.
Sunlight dances making a radiant rainbow
Dancing, dazzling putting on quite a show.
The shady mountain path wide and narrow
Across the blue sky flies a host of sparrows.
A majestic eagle perched on a rocky crest
as eaglets are neatly nestled in the nest.
I love Mother Nature's nurturing glory
in my sacred solitude to write this story.
| Author Notes |
POTLATCH CLUB CHALLENGE: The Monometric Form was
Invented by Walter E. Ferguson III, The norm is Augmented Monometric, illustrated below by that author's poem. ~~~BASIC STYLE~~~FOR AUTHOR'S NOTES ***This form requires the poet to begin with a couplet, then augment [add] each succeeding stanza with ONE more line. ***EACH stanza is to be independent MONO-RHYME. *** The lines can be of any CONSTANT meter, such as but not limited to, Iambic trimeter, Iambic tetrameter, Iambic pentameter. Keep lines in the same meter throughout. |
By JLR
Below the crest of yonder waterfall,
I sat and told you of this true love story.
As many years we're able to forestall,
this tale before my hair grew long and hoary.
And buried deep inside a slew of thoughts,
this maiden's cherry lips, boys have desired.
I sought her much more than I truly aught,
and I was burnt by kisses, as sparks fired.
Alas, life is chock full of silly laddies,
who learn to seek a lady they can love,
and boys look past the girls and bow to ladies.
A woman who is wise fits hand to glove;
and yes, you wingless creature, near perfection,
you mirror all my love and true reflection.
| Author Notes |
An attempt at a sonnet: REVISED with generous help from the "best of the best" FanStory reviewers! I am so grateful and humbled with all the help!
abab cdcd egeg hh thank you for the use of Blind Love by booklotto on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
... This is the day I go away,
my only bag is by my side
a pair of shoes had made me sway
but toes inside my shoes had died.
holes in the soles repaired with glue
A hand-me-down shirt I just loved
Jeans so torn the/ patches/ are worn
do not think I am feeling unloved
the clothes on my back are not rags
one thing for sure, I am quite glad
a change of wears has a new tag
I think it best, be glad ... than mad.
up there ... a spot I sought for years
by a stream with lots of days that shine
the oak full of leaves every year
a roll of twine and bent wire, my fishline,
all that is needed to make a hook
for the daily fresh catch, I will cook.
| Author Notes |
My continuing effort to practice iambic meter
the poem is in rhymic pattern as follows: abab, cdcd, efef, ghgh, ii thanks for the use of Will Work For Money by booklotto on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
| Author Notes | Free Verse -- Dedicated to my new friends; Jim, Jer, Melissa, and Patricia for their eyes and ears, laughter, and sneers during class. |
By JLR
Oh, how humanity's hearts, minds, bodies
exude the nasty moral turpitude of
shameful acts...stained on all of humankind
like dark inkblots throughout all recorded history!
Hatred, willful intolerance, destruction of anything
that does not conform to our acceptable
way of believing...these acts are not new
they chew away over time like a moth
that eats away fine silk.
These pitfalls for mankind have come
and gone throughout all of history,
in the near and far reaches
of every known place on earth,
as far back as the garden of Eden
sucking the life out of lives
like quicksand unseen in the night.
Violent crimes against men, women, children
by those who are intolerant of anything that
portends to be for the good of all is not new,
read any book of any religion.
The wisdom teachers, desert fathers, and mothers
told story upon story of man's wrongdoing
to their next-door neighbor, hearing the cock
crow at the rising of another day of
mans heathen cries of I want it my way.
Hailstorms of gunfire week in and week out,
pummel inner cities...
if not gunfire, choose a weapon
of destruction from any generation
back to and Cain and Able
and you will see mankind's disgrace that
has shredded the very hearts of families
for eons of time - shredded like the
torn garments of a soul lost in a spiral
down decline.
Black lives, brown lives, yellow lives,
white lives, albino lives, chartreuse lives,
blue lives, red lives
pick any one or all among these or more,
all people experience hurts, pains, sorrows, regrets,
ill will, disrespect, crashed dreams, dashed hopes!
It is the human condition in which we are all born
Such is the vast wasteland dried and withering
as time marches on to the tunes of downtrodden
drummers.
Today, we have twenty-four seven
coverage showing our failed human natures,
but, our minds are now numb
to see the bad, the ugly,
thirsting even...
to see one more horrible act
not seen before- gut-wrenching,
sour bile rising from the depths of
dispair all of us wanting change.
However...
just as in the days of old
destruction of dreams are likened to the
turbulence of tornatic winds ripping
homes right off solid foundations
easily explains the jaw-dropping,
heart-wrenching, utter breath restrictive
sites unfolding before our very own eyes
as has been the same for all of the time recorded!
There are, has been and always will be
people who will rise and become leaders
who have rent the very fabric of dignity away
from fertile and healthy minds as they
held another fellow human down, because of greed.
Persons who thirst to hold those they
attract with their boisterous rhetoric,
their purses lined with gold, that entices
victims caught in the swirling
cesspool of failed engineer systems that
destroy the very souls of people!
From man's beginnings to the
final fall of humanity,
they all have the same human stain
brought about by their thirst
for money, power, and control.
For those who believe in
a Divine order,
who live in the Present Moment,
have a prayer life,
try to live within the containment
of the ten commandments,
They, I believe, have the greatest
chance to cling to the one element
we must all hold dear to our hearts,
Hope! Thus, that pearl which often stays
hidden in the soft belly of a oyster being
molded into a precious gleaming gem
enabling them to survive can rebound
the hearts of man.
| Author Notes |
FREE VERSE OFFERING FOR THE CONTEST HUMAN SUFFERING'
thanks for the use of suffering Christian by Renate-Bertodi on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
Not penny loafers with scuffed heels,
nor my favorite to dance reels.
Too fast a pace dancing a jig
they sure were not for chasing pigs,
few words explain just how I feel!
The pennies stay put when I kneel
and make for comfortable wheels
I prance around dry leaves and twigs
not penny loafers!
while hearing the flying pig squeal,
copper, shining bright...so real
supple to touch, not worn by prigs
certainly not any bigwigs
who would much prefer silver wigs
not penny loafers!
| Author Notes |
Rondeau Poetry
POETRY CONTEST A rondeau poem is required for this contest. It is a fixed form of poetry. It is often used in light or witty poems. It often has fifteen octo - or decasyllabic lines with three stanzas. It usually only has two rhymes used in the poem. A word or words from the first part of the first line are used as a refrain ending the second and third stanzas. The rhyme scheme is aabba aabR aabbaR. |
By JLR
Oh, how longstanding my
guardians have stood
girded with their magenta sash
flung forth into the night skies
creating dazzling sparkles
lighting my path within
the depth of slumber
and vivid dreams.
Four stone rigid protectors,
two on my right
gazing ever
upward and downward,
firm scowl and tight knit brow
emoting to the celestial travelers
make space for our nighttime sojourn.
Two on my left
scanning forward and backward
emitting incredibly hard stares
toward any evil rogues roaming
from the depths of oncoming black holes
or past dark bottomless
crevices of life's daytime burdens.
Center stage, there stood I.
Knowing from all directions
toward any path I so choose to try,
Journeying as a celestial warrior,
seeking the wisdom path
my every turn be paved
with sure-footed sparkling stardust paths,
thus, I smile so assuredly
I travel safe,
my companions and I.
| Author Notes | PIX THIS POETRY CHALLENGE Free Verse entry |
By JLR
| Author Notes |
CONTEST 20 LINE POEM using a quadruple Tetractys. Tetractys, a poetic form invented by Ray Stebbing, consists of at least 5 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 10 syllables (total of 20). Tetractys can be written with more than one verse but must follow suit with an inverted syllable count. Tetractys can also be reversed and written 10, 4, 3, 2, 1.
Double Tetractys: 1, 2, 3, 4, 10, 10, 4, 3, 2, 1 Triple Tetractys: 1, 2, 3, 4, 10, 10, 4, 3, 2, 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 10 Quad Tetractys: 1, 2, 3, 4, 10, 10, 4, 3, 2, 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 10, 10, 4, 3, 2, 1 and so on. thank for the use of Beautiful 'Sunshine' Snail by beautym00n on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
God's tasks were assigned to me.
His Breathe of life was my start
God's tasks were assigned to me.
A mystery, my task you see,
It took me years to listen in.
His Breathe of life was my start.
So, trials and errors I partook,
but now I must do my part!
It took me years to listen in.
I did once have a running start
bent but surely not worn out,
now its time, I must do my part!
More goods days, sure to come
living large with borrowed days
Bent but surely not worn out!
Wondering, have I missed one?
God's tasks were assigned to me.
living large with borrowed days,
God's tasks were assigned to me!
| Author Notes |
A-Pix This Challenge Entry -
Terzanelle The Terzanelle is a poetry type which is a combination of the villanelle and the terza rima forms. It is a 19-line poem consisting of five interlocking triplets/tercets plus a concluding quatrain in which the first and third lines of the first triplet appear as refrains. The middle line of each triplet is repeated, reappearing as the last line of the succeeding triplet with the exception of the center line of the next-to-the-last stanza which appears in the quatrain. The rhyme and refrain scheme for the triplets is as follows: 1. A 2. B 3. A 4. b 5. C 6. B 7. c 8. D 9. C 10. d 11. E 12. D 13. e 14. F 15. E Ending Type 1: 16. f 17. A 18. F 19. A |
By JLR
| Author Notes | A 20 line poem in the word count of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6,5, 4, 3, 2, 1 |
By JLR
I so long for a breath of fresh air,
Do you?
Desire can be such a fleeting
feeling..
However, muddled, befuddled our
thoughts become,
as we are consumed
by the constant onslaught of life's dramas
filled with people screaming
"You should of, you aught,"
projecting scenes upon
life's big screen,
that often takes our breath away.
I so desire to experience
something so very unique,
so special, positively refreshing
that it does take your breath away
...do you?
Perhaps, you and I can begin
by sending a smile to a friend,
your neighbor, a colleague or
take a risk and let's virtual high-five
a total stranger.
Now wouldn't that provide
a "breath of fresh air?"
Come on, will you take the dare?
| Author Notes | FREE VERSE in FIFTEEN MINUTES |
By JLR
...'tis no wonder that, faithfully, I cast my gaze
heavenward into the deep blue yonder.
To sneak a peek into the unknown, not seen,
masked by the bluest of skies,
searching for a moment of tranquility and calmness
that slows the rhythm of my heart thumping.
At night, my mind's eye,
sailing through blue oceans of dreams
on waves, at times, light blue --
my guardians and I set sail,
seeking healing and understanding.
Traveling further into darkest blue
of nighttime cosmic travel,
clinging to a seriousness,
seeking knowledge,
how to point my life toward
that one, bright, guiding star
that twinkles like a dazzling sapphire
cut so perfectly -- the image,
behaves as beveled glass,
projecting into infinity,
guiding my soul onward.
| Author Notes | Fabulous Free Versers Club; Challenge Write a free verse poem about the word/color BLUE. |
By JLR
Just imagine...
mentally drawing a ring,
no matter how big or small,
worry not, even if it is as big
as a hula hoop.
Now, picture in your mind's eye
you are beginning a journey...
just as you take a step
into this circlet, shimmering iridescently
appearing as a golden halo,
past the exosphere
into deep space.
Then, just lightly exhale
as taking the next step
inside this circle,
your breath is like a
tiny jet stream of energy
that creates the motion of a spiral
rotating away from the entrance of an
annulus into the cosmic stew
toward this galaxy and beyond.
Boundless into infinity, your circle revolves
around an encompassed sea of stars
which circle ever more infinitely
into the space as you trustingly
took that first step.
A life cycle experience
within a circle!
| Author Notes | Fabulous Free Versers Club - Challenge write about circles |
By JLR
If you were my morning guest
you might see excitement dawning,
or if you could magically slide inside my head
absorbing juicy tidbits, as if a dry sponge in the desert sun,
seeing first-hand how my free verse is done....
My day, surrounded by stillness, begins.
Sometimes starting out gray, then turning brighter,
as if I can dial up just the right amount of daylight for warmth.
Mind swirling within a current thought,
or tiptoeing around a harsh memory, at times,
I lightly caress a deep feeling that trickles
like a small stream beginning a downward flow.
Keyboard set, coffee cup brimming,
my well-worn Webster's near, I let words begin spiraling
upward from deep within my soul onto the page.
Word images, bloodred when read,
harsh memories can bring a tear,
words creating an ebb and flow,
a tension, pulling the string taut on a longbow,
while adding a touch of yin and yang,
send a pause for the reader to consider...
this or that.
Like adding a bit of zest when preparing a feast,
I drop in a poetic device or two,
interwoven like delicate lace then add a touch of gold or silver
for a well-constructed piece.
Tossing in assonance creating the effect despair,
as in the ripping open my heart for love gone asunder...
something we might share in common.
If welcomed into the verse, I might sprinkle in a dash of onomatopoeia,
As in a cuckoo when the sweet bird's refrain is heard at the top of the hour.
Then pausing for a day or two, I leave the words to stew
wanting the verse to subtly intice you.
When I read and reread the written tome,
perhaps massage a stiff word in a stanza or more,
I then make the decision....
Is this good enough to serve to you?
| Author Notes |
Writing Poetry POETRY CONTEST
Write a poem (of any style) that answers the following question: How do you write your poetry? |
By JLR
| Author Notes |
5 Line Poem
POETRY CONTEST Write a five-lined poem. It has the following syllable count: 2-2-5-7-5. So the first line has two syllables, second line has two, third has five, fourth has 7, fifth line has 5 syllables. |
By JLR
How my world has changed!
Such a seeker I once was for that
perfect colorful silk fashion statement
just for an upcoming event...
with much forethought
and mental dancing, wondering
just how much preening and prancing
was needed to create the outfit
willing to appreciate the personal statement
worn by others...of course,
hoping theirs did not out-do mine!
Any professional,
will relate to that perfect power tie --
especially selected, such a projection
of boldness, like wearing a swordsman's
chainmail into the boardroom battle
to prevent being
eviscerated in a struggle!
Then for the lighthearted occasion,
the gentlemen favoring a more genteel time...
an event, perhaps, more formal,
one would presume a bowtie
would be most common,
unless, of course, you were a Texan,
fixin' to go two-steppin. Then that bolo,
with a shining silver slide,
and turquoise stone
would be beholden of a second look.
Alas, all good things do pass!
No one really can place a practical purpose
for a tie...just like jewelry, or cosmetics,
or a well-placed tattoo,
perhaps, piercings in body parts seen...
well, unseen too, high heels or that
gentleman's pocket square's.
Truly....it;s kinda like waving a flag,
the ego does thrive, when showing respect,
or running with the herd creating a sense of belonging,
then again, one could be thinking of
more dangerous kind of ties....
family ties,
which would require a whole new beginning.
| Author Notes | FABULOUS FREE VERSERS: Topic Ties |
By JLR
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My soul is bruised, my heart is bleeding
the last spoken words that I was pleading
making a crevasse with no crossing back
plummeting into the deepening black
your selfish wants I wasn't conceding,
those spoken words felt so misleading
had you just tried...I'd given some slack
My soul is bruised.
I felt your soft touch, your warmth receding
creating doubts, I knew you were succeeding
I tired so, of the constant unfettered flack
my love songs refrain were not misleading
My soul is bruised.
Just passing through no destination known
Thinking our love bond was tightly sown
but, l knew your love was held restrained
as freedom I needed to once again attain
Just passing through.
No, I walk through this gate alone
under foot I walk on sharp stone
in relationships - closeness be refrained
Just passing through.
Silly how little I want to bemoan
or feel the need to cry out a groan
lamenting, I need to learn to abstain
from companionship when I create pain
accepting that it is my life I must own
Just passing through.
| Author Notes |
Potlatch Club writing challenge:Double Rondeau is simply doubling the pattern of the Rondeau. It can either be doubled in sequence (1 Rondeau following another Rondeau) or the like stanzas could be doubled and paired.
My presentation is aabba aabR aabbaR ccddR ccdR ccddcR. Modified meter. |
By JLR
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| Author Notes |
25 Syllable Poem POETRY CONTEST
Write a poem of any type. But it must have exactly 25 syllables total. My thanks to Andy Vu from Pexels for this photo |
By JLR
I heard the whoosh...
I saw the wick on the taper flicker,
I felt a chill in the air,
just as the quill began dancing across
the slightly yellowed linen paper
milled using water and rags.
Suddenly, a ghostly figure evolved
hunched over my deeply scarred
writing table with the bib of the
quill dipped in the jet black ink well.
With a flourish of motion,
the quill seemed to float buoyantly
along the less than smooth surface
of paper scratching a cursive line
of a script that read, "write -- write --
write,"
The ghost of times past appeared to
look over its lowered shoulder,
toward me, gazing ever so intently,
and continued to scrawl
as these words appeared,
"words tell the story,
my story...must be told,
be bold, take up my quill,
before you grow too old,
you must tell my story!
| Author Notes |
Fabulous Free Versers club: Ghostwriter: Imagine an invisible ghost picks up a pen and starts writing to you.
No deadline. thanks for the use of We will always be together. by avmurray on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
| Author Notes |
Etheree POETRY CONTEST
The poetry form, Etheree, consists of 10 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 syllables. Etheree can also be reversed and written 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. |
By JLR
Summer days ebb and flow
each day shortening the depth of light
expanding into the evening night
as the sun sets in the western sky.
At the end of a summers day
as the waves slowly slink away
I saunter with the
warm water licking my thighs
digging into my thoughts of, Why?
Pushing along with gliding steps
Letting my soul reach into deeper depths
pondering the lingering days of summer's sunny rays.
Questioning what is to come in the following days?
| Author Notes | PictureThis Club challenge |
By JLR
From the very beginning,
the sense that this little lamb
was seeing his new world
from a different lens was real!
The distraction of a mobile, twirling
above his head, sending this little lion
into terrible fits of what seemed pain driven
terror.
A splashing of water on this precious
little gift of life anywhere near his face,
would cause sensations of what appeared
to make him act like it was scalding water -
although cool as a soothing drink.
For fourteen years I have seen with my own
eyes, the signs of his "peaking",
his collision with just too much activity,
causing him to meltdown into a primodial
stew of fear and uncontrollable tension.
But, the tears come to my eyes, when I
watch this young Eistein take on the
monumental task of building the most
demanding Lego buildings one can imagine
possible with little locking blocks
no instructions wanted/needed.
Not once, but over and over and yet over
again with a smile that is as wide as a battleship
turning into the wind.
I know then in my heart, that God has kissed
this child becoming a man, and know that
he is just fine - my grandson, just being John!
| Author Notes |
Free Verse on Mental Illness.
Autism spectrum disorder (ASD) is a developmental disability that can cause significant social, communication and behavioral challenges. There is often nothing about how people with ASD look that sets them apart from other people, but people with ASD may communicate, interact, behave, and learn in ways that are different from most other people. The learning, thinking, and problem-solving abilities of people with ASD can range from gifted to severely challenged. Some people with ASD need a lot of help in their daily lives; others need less. A diagnosis of ASD now includes several conditions that used to be diagnosed separately: autistic disorder, pervasive developmental disorder not otherwise specified (PDD-NOS), and Asperger syndrome. These conditions are now all called autism spectrum disorder. |
By JLR
As I bade goodbye to the sparkling dance of light
from a million stars across my pre-dawn sky,
my anticipation amps up
as I catch the very first purposeful projections
of golden illumination gather speed rising with brilliant radiance,
hiding that backdrop of starlight
while the new day's rays of daylight
cover over the last of near-phosphorescence
of the moonlight glow.
It is then that, I just know,
that the nearby streetlight will suddenly extinguish its
warm projection of light seen within the fading shadows.
| Author Notes |
Fabulous Free Verser Club: Topic; Light
Thank you for the use of Photo by s2 art on Unsplash |
By JLR
| Author Notes |
POETRY CONTEST --Loop Poetry Contest
Loop Poetry requires that the last word of each line becomes the first word of the next line. So the last word of line 1 becomes the first word of line 2, last word of line 2 becomes the first word of line 3 - and so on. There is a rhyme scheme. The rhyme scheme is abcb. There are no restrictions on the number of stanzas nor on the syllable count for each line. |
By JLR
| Author Notes |
3-5-3 Contest entry
Ah! the 2020's -- I now begin my seventh decade and going strong, amen! |
By JLR
| Author Notes | Rythming poem |
By JLR
| Author Notes | PICTURE THIS CLUB CHALLENGE |
By JLR
Sometimes, I simply feel the need
to unplug, deprogram, unstress,
just take a time out,
Life tosses more at us than we
can...as they say, "Say Grace over,"
but really there is so much more
in store and mostly it is all a bore.
We can, jump and shout and I might
even want to pout and, oh! the amount
we heap deep onto our plates in
twenty-four hours makes things creepy.
It used to be meetings, and airports,
a conference or two more than I
wanted to do. But now, its zoom,
in a room and hoping the lighting
doesn't make me look pale or stale
or worst case frail.
| Author Notes |
Fabulous Free Verse Club Challenge: Write a free verse start to finish in 15 minutes.
thanks for the use of Time Traveling Time by Dick Lee Shia on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
In the silence I sit...
My heart's desire is to shut-out
the several flittering thoughts.
save, but, just one...
"Why have you, Master,
allowed this human being
to survive this long?"
My thought...
I have heard the sweet music
float, as though on a cloud,
from the strings of
a harp with gold laden strings...
Where the light emitted through
my tears being shed
for of all those years of
shying away from your voice,
your constant invitation to just seek,
is near blinding
in its dazzling, pure brilliance...
My thought continues,
Father, Mother, God; this humble
child of the great I AM has stilled my
Beingness to receive that which
You have to give unto me...
When suddenly a Dove,
as white as the purest flakes of snow,
lands ever so slowly upon
the near window sill
and it is at that moment,
I just know...
That the one called by ninety-nine names
has sent this messenger to show me
I have Angels in my presence...
Master has sent His Goodness,
There I find Peace!
| Author Notes | MY FAITH POETRY CONTEST: Share a poem that is about your faith or how faith has impacted your life. |
By JLR
As I sat beside the driftwood fire wind tousling
my wavy thin grey hair, my thoughts flow, matching rhythm
with gentle waves licking the soft sand, retreating,
repeating again and ever more nature's dance.
All the while, moonbeam light pairs with the fire, a prism
catching light from above and below showering
the distant stretch of shore in soft light, white on white
but, subtle to enhance memories repeating
eves spent 'oft at this time, in this space, flowering
once again, those blissful embraces of times when
spent by your side feeling full of love's sweet nectar
teasingly wet my lips as we gaze at the night.
When sudden, a whisper, that teases me to then
focus on the shift of wind stamp out moonbeam rays
as large clouds shroud the moon and large waves cascade in,
the fire's glow tamps down as strangly the specter
looms above the flickering flame of the red-hot blaze
and the whole scene startles me, which awakens me, toppling
me back to the fire, wind, waves, and this happenstance
this sudden, ghostly guest puts goose bumps on my skin
| Author Notes |
Potlatch Club Challenge: Domino Rhyme is a very clever innovation of Bob Newman which can be found at his site as well as many others on the internet. Much like a slinky, rhymes tumble from stanza to stanza, it is something he calls remote rhyming. The Domino Rhyme is:
stanzaic, written in any number of quatrains. metered, written in a loose tetrameter. Lines should be same length. rhymed. L2 and L3 of the first stanza rhyme with L1 and L4 of the next stanza and so on down until the last stanza when L2 and L3 rhyme with L1 and L4 of the first stanza. abcd befc eghf gijh . . . iadj. |
By JLR
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The October mist swirls in from the seashore
bringing a wet chill that sets deep in the
night watchman’s bones on this All Hallows' Eve.
His torch flickers, in the whisper of wind,
dancing, bobbing and weaving gently,
as tendrils of soft light bleed
into the heavy dark shadows.
A blood curdling scream unsettles
the rhythm of the croaking frogs
calling out to their prospective mates,
and the flurry of sound from flapping wings
as the startled flock of marsh hens
rushed into the depth of night,
adding to the sudden quake
felt in the time-worn hands
of this trusted sentinel
of the graveyard by the seashore.
Sudden, the mist turns into a heavy fog
that carries in its white shroud,
enveloping every crypt,
the dank smell of seaweed.
Then the undeniable sound,
ding-ding, ding-ding,
signaling two bells, like from a tall ship at sea,
that long ago, this ship would had been
tied to the wharf in the bay.
As the watchman pulled out his timepiece
seeing with amazement that it was,
indeed, two in the morn...
at that very instant there came a
long deep and pain-filled moan
from just past the outreaches of his sight.
She appeared,
as if floating just above the
pebble laden pathway
with her arms outstretched
fingers on both hands signaling
an invitation to
come – come here…
Shaking his head no,
this seasoned veteran of
two score and five
All Hallows eve shifts
simply nods and says, “I bade farewell,
you damsel from the sea,
I know you are a lost soul,
so just pass well into the dark,
rest well,
‘til next Allhalloween.”
| Author Notes |
A free verse for Halloween Poetry contest
Author note: Halloween or Hallowe'en also known as Allhalloween, All Hallows' Eve, or All Saints' Eve, is a celebration observed in many countries on 31 October. source: Google facts |
By JLR
Dare he reclaim her calm therein
dispel chagrin?
Or doth she break...
her heart soon ache?
Wouldst they reflect upon unsaid
thoughts each misread,
while stings persist
amid clinched fists?
A deep morass awaits this pair
unless they dare
embrace, renew
thus, fear subdue.
| Author Notes |
The Minute Poem is a poem that follows the "8,4,4,4" syllable count structure. It usually has 3 stanzas that are exactly the same. So: 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4 syllables.
A traditional Minute Poem has 12 lines total. It has 60 syllables. It is written in a strict iambic meter. The rhyme scheme is as follows: aabb, ccdd, eeff. However, for this contest there is not a requirement to follow the iambic meter rhyme scheme only to have a rhyme and the proper syllable count... Thank you always for the use of Through the Eyes of Love by cleo85 on FanArtReview.com |
By JLR
my thoughts spin as though
the reel of a well-cast fly line
sailing effortlessly outward...
I sit in the shadows of the underpass
in heavily tattered clothing and jungle boots
whose laces have long been frayed,
When was it? Where I waded into that
rushing stream, just above the subtle
backwater, as the fly danced in the
air toward the intended target...
The cool of the night creeps into
the marrow of these, now, old bones
as I watch my breath swirl as a mist
into the ever-darkening evening.
It was before boot camp,
and long before humping the boonies, a site
so deep in the jungle, we called it Nowhere land...
That rainbow trout practically jumped out of the
river, with trails of water gleaming in the
sparkling golden rays of sun,
swallowing that dry hand-tied
Caddisfly in one deep gulp...
I fold the mud smeared cardboard in half and
mold it under my arms for an extra layer for warmth
as I unscrew the cap on the half empty bottle of port.
Suddenly, I am in contest with this powerful fish,
I reel in as he gathers his strength and then he
takes off, the line zipping off the reel again,
over and over, then snap...
I pull a long slow plug that burns my throat
clear down into the pit of a growling stomach
aching for a bit of hot chow.
Then, oh yes, then, I remember...
It was when the trout won, I lost
and here I am in Nowhere land.
| Author Notes |
FREE VERSE CONTEST ENTRY
In April 2019, the U.S. had a homelessness population of over 630,000 with 67,000 being veterans of the armed forces. Veteran homelessness in America is not a phenomenon only of the 21st century; as early as the Reconstruction Era, homeless veterans were among the general homeless population. B In 1932, homeless veterans were part of the Bonus Army. In 1934, there were as many as a quarter million veterans living on the streets. During the Truman Administration, there were one hundred thousand homeless veterans in Chicago, and a quarter of that number in Washington, D.C. In 1987, the number of homeless veterans was as high as three hundred thousand. In 2009 there were 154,000 homeless veterans, with slightly less than half having served in South Vietnam. This is not Republican problem nor a Democrat or Independent problem....homelessness is an AMERICAN PROBLEM. The millions upon millions spent by politicians and political action committees this election cycle is senseless waste of taxpayers dollars with this crisis so prevalent. To learn more.... National Coalition for Homeless Veterans: http://nchv.org |
By JLR
| Author Notes |
A rictameter has 9 lines with a syllable count of 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 8, 6, 4, 2, with the last lines word/s identical to the first. Rhyming is not needed.
Thank you and I feel so very blessed for each and everyone at FanStory; for your kindness, tolerance, patience, helpfulness, laughs and even an occasional virtual hug throughout, what has become for each and everyone, a year that we want to put in our rearview mirrors soon and permanently - I am beyond more words for GRATITUDE I hold in my heart for everyone of you! |
By JLR
| Author Notes |
The Picture this Club Challenge
This poem is abb, abb, abb, acc rhyme in tercets |
By JLR
Christmas stockings all hung with great care
the gifts, under the tree, even a new teddy bear.
Milk half gone, just cookie crumbs on the plate
remnants of treats, left for Santa, as they went to bed late.
The sparking lights and tinsel so shimmery
lighting the way for St. Nick sliding down the chimney.
But the best to be seen were those eye popping stares
as each of the grandchildren came down the stairs.
The warmest delight that a grandpapa might savor
Is gathering all around and reading without a quaver
the story about the birth of our Savior.
Dedicating another Christmas for the best gift that could be
teaching our children His gift is better than any under the tree!
| Author Notes |
Christmas - Write a Rhyming poem about your favourite thing about Christmas.
It could be food, The tree, Film, sweets, snow, religion etc Dedicate your poem to why it is such an important part of Christmas for you. Anything goes as long as it Rhymes. |
By JLR
Oh, what a blast!
Rubbing the stardust from my just opened eyes
I gazed widely, with a sense of sudden joy,
out the nearby window,
seeing before me more snow
than I have ever seen before.
Dashing like Donner and Blitzen
to the closet to find just the right clothes,
I put on those
without one pause,
followed just as smartly
donning those woolly woolens
to keep my toes warm.
Then, hopping like a bunny in a garden patch,
I rushed out the door to begin a day of fun galore!
A plop in the snow to make
it known to all that on this grand day
I had come to fully enjoy the thrills, and spills
hoping I had my Angel wings sewn on!
The red sled, which sped faster
than the blue toboggan,
made the trips down the slope
quite a thrill..trip after trip so slick
all I could do was
trill out a loud
shrill shriek!
Oh, what fun,
snow and hill
and friends
do make.
| Author Notes | Picture this Club Challenge |
By JLR
Squeak, squeak, squeak,
the snow so cold each step resounds!
The mist from someone's breath
becomes tiny icy crystals at once,
falling with almost a hint of a
tinkle, tinkle as they hit the ground.
That hoarfrost still creeping
even as the noon-day sun begins
it's not too long an afternoon run.
And the calendar is stuck in the muck
as wet fingers are glued to Tuesday.
and you can't turn the page
Imagine it so cold...
that the just poured hot chocolate
is already slushy!
One can only hope that the earth
will continue its revolutions on pace
to get us past this wintery scene.
Perchance, do you have
an extra blanket?
If not, some heavy long johns will certainly do
and if not asking too much...
a nice steamy bowl of very spicy chili and
some corn bread too!
| Author Notes | Fabulous free verser club challenge: Write a free verse about 'COLD' in any way you can imagine. It's not limited to weather or illness. Let's see what things we can come up with. 8-) |
By JLR
November's Beaver moon hung low in the night sky. The harsh cold air held tight to the heavy mist following the mountain stream into the still shadows of the forest beyond. Many times I have lingered by the outcropping of rocks clinging to the bank of this stream. My heartbeat slows to match the rhythm of the pace of nature while at restful sleep.
Thoughts stir, unwinding, like silent reels whirling of bygone days when you sat beside me. These unwelcomed thoughts, opening up deep-set pangs of loneliness. You may know that same feeling of loneliness one senses when hearing the evening call of the lone whippoorwill pleading for a mate to reply. That solo call matches this Mourning moon phase's tenor separating the winter solstice, reminding me of the cycles of life we once shared.
Remembering the warmth of your breath as it tickled my ear lobe as you whispered sweet words of love. This was then a space in time when we were so much alive and quite literally unbeatable in any of life's many games.
As I watch the clouds of mist reveal more of the low-hung moon, I ponder more deeply about the coming of the next full moon and all the mysteries of life it too will shine forth unto this mortal soul.
Wonder fills me with the question, just how many ways can the moon present someone with a sneak-peek into the number of journeys one can take without the need of a passport?
| Author Notes |
Short Story (Beg/Mid/end) (Create your own title) (250 words max)
beginning with the sentence:November's Beaver moon hung low in the night sky. November Beaver Moon, AKA Mourning Moon |
By JLR
Love, the foundation
The brick and mortar that
the building blocks of
One's highest and best
Self has to give.
Who gains from Love
given without any shackles...
No interest demands
No late payments
Not even an expectation
to receive Love given?
All, each and everyone
gains a little more humanness
from
The gift of compassion,
The act of forgiveness,
The offering of patience,
The maturation of tolerance,
The showering another with affection.
These and much more are the rewards
one who is anchored in the
Heart, mind and soul from the
Harness of LOVE.
Love is all of this and more...
.
| Author Notes | Free verse What is Love? |
By JLR
Mistakes entrap the mind!
Also, regrets attached to past deeds.
There sit I, stalled deep in life's weeds
where hurt and remorse do breed.
Malaise keeps me in a taut bind.
My once champagne and roses, big plans, derailed.
Irate at self for all the attempts that failed,
the weight of injustice wrongly scaled.
So whence did that week, day, hour grind
my dreams, my hopes, to halt, thus I declined?
Oh yes! There were many days and all manner
of ways where I stepped so high my soul
soared fine and I had far more ups than downs,
then it all near magically turned sour.
Mistakes entrap the mind
unless one can forgive oneself,
be it himself or it could be herself!
Life sure does not flow like a flat ocean
So do prepare, hold on, be ready for all the commotion...
Mistakes do not need to entrap the mind
nor does malaise keep me in a taut bind!
| Author Notes |
Potlatch Club Challenge:
Fusion Sonnet--week of 12-2-2020 FUSION SONNET. It breaks several Traditional Sonnet rules. Most notably, it has 21 Lines rather than the typical 14. The Fusion comes from blending in 4 lines of Free Verse at lines 11 through 14. It has a strict Structure and Rhyme Scheme, but is more flexible in the area of Meter where the lines may be as here of variable length. The rhythm however, apart from the free verse section, should be iambic throughout. Here are the complex rules: 14 line Poem followed by a Half Sonnet of 7 lines acting as a Coda or Tail to add additional stability to the poem. No particular Meter is followed, "Fusing" it with the modern Free Verse style. ~~~~~~~ First Fourteen Lines: *Same Rhyme in 1st,5th,9th & 10th Lines. *Same Rhyme in 2nd,3rd & 4th Lines. *Same Rhyme in 6th,7th & 8th lines. So: A1 b b b A2 c c c, *iRhetorical questions in 9th & 10th lines. *Negative and pessimistic note in the first 10 lines. *Free Verse in 11th, 12th,13 & 14th Lines. Relates back to something similar. * * * * * *Line 15 repeats line 1. *Next Seven Lines:-The Half Sonnet, acting as a Coda. *Same Rhyme in 16th and 17th lines. *Same Rhyme in 18th and 19th lines. *Line 20 and 21 repeats line 1 and 5. (modified slightly if you wish.) |
By JLR
| Author Notes |
Free Verser Club Challenge: Before and After. How has a place you are familiar with changed over the past 10 years? Tell us how it was before and how it has changed. What caused it, and why.
Thanks for the use of Photo by Kevin Maillefer on Unsplash |
By JLR
| Author Notes |
Free Verse Challenge:
Pick up the nearest book and use the last line on the last page as your inspiration. If you don't like that book, pick another. No hard and fast rules as long as it's the last line. Please tell what the line is and from what book. BOOK: SACRED CONTRACTS by Caroline Myss Thank you for the use of Tree Spirits by LittleBogie 007 on FanArtReview.com |
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