ㅁ The sky was gray, the mist hung low. I walked the road and saw the trees. Some rocks recalled the winter's snow. The sky was gray, the mist hung low. The water, distant, seemed to glow. The bits of light, waves touched by breeze. The sky was gray, the mist hung low. I walked the road and saw the trees.
– a triolet.
ㅁ time rolls in like a fog consuming us leaving us wondering where we have been
– a tetractys.
ㅁ Sea. Some rocks. A sein net. The fishing boat. Some men on the deck, reeling in salmon.
– a tetractys.
ㅁ Fish! Swimming in the sea. Going somewhere. And then - whoops! - there's a net: that's all she wrote.
– a tetractys.
ㅁ Bright daylight burns the sky for all the world around four AM because the latitude and the season of the year and the awkward tilt of the earth conspire to make the mornings early.
– a reverse nonnet.
ㅁ As the international journey fades from my recent memory, I'm left with a detritus of unused foreign words that swarm, and pile up against my mind's exit points, making noise.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I start my journey up the stairs, my outlook bold: I'm upward bound. The sun's not shining - no one cares. I start my journey up the stairs: the steps, they lurk, like little snares. I stumble then, a frightening sound. I start my journey up the stairs, my outlook bold: I'm upward bound.
– a triolet.
ㅁ when you are asleep your time slows down to a crawl... but you don't notice.
– a pseudo-haiku.
ㅁ in the monkey mind things happen you can't believe you stare, astonished
– a pseudo-haiku.
ㅁ morphologically our freedom is quite constrained obligate primates
– a pseudo-haiku.
ㅁ My mother, in Japan, with a woman who called her 'Florence': then the dream unfolded, and I was looking for cats, searching in schools and bus stations... the air all shimmery like amber.
– a reverse nonnet.
ㅁ When I'm alone, I talk to myself, in a continuous patter. But around my deaf uncle, I have to be quiet. If I say something, he'll ask me, 'What?!' Then he'll want to know what.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ "I'm not going deaf! It's just some bad congestion." How can I argue?
– a pseudo-haiku.
ㅁ The silence deafens, coats the world, as if the head's been filled with earth. The clouds above are curly, pearled. The silence deafens, coats the world, as if, all round, broad wings unfurled - all covering - a whole sky's worth. The silence deafens, coats the world, as if the head's been filled with earth.
– a triolet.
ㅁ Too many nonnets! So let's count our syllables an alternate way.
– a pseudo-haiku.
ㅁ Well, once every few weeks, or so, the sun comes from behind the clouds, to illuminate the world: the north window turns bright, in early morning; the reaching trees do battle against light.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ In this one dream, I'm driving around. I've got a bright blue rental car, somewhere in vast Australia. I find some Mexicans starting a strange cult near volcanoes. They tell me to get lost.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ The persistence of identity can bother me when I wake up. Am I the same person now, that I had been last night? Maybe I'm fresh, new. With memories given me by old gods.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ No, I'm not really into the sun. There's a reason I'm in this place... this cool, misty rainforest that beetles the ocean. The sun annoys me. It's like a weight, pushing down, extreme, hot.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Machines covered the planet's surface, an inorganic patina, staining the hills and the seas. They had overthrown those who had come before. Purposelessness occupied spinning minds.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ A morning's drizzle paints the sea with spots and roundish dapples, green. The gray, cold sky confounds, unfree. A morning's drizzle paints the sea, while trees absorb the gray - that's key - and fish and whales swim deep, unseen, A morning's drizzle paints the sea with spots and roundish dapples, green.
– a triolet. This is something new – I’ve never tried this particular genre of short poem before. It’s pretty highly constrained, which I tend to like, but also repetitive by design, which I tend not to like.
ㅁ Sad! Many mice have died while visiting our well-heated home. I put out traps for them. They might find some kitchen crumbs. But the traps have appealing snacks. Snap! I think: "I'm a lousy Buddhist."
– a reverse nonnet.
