ㅁ Reaching consensus, the aliens decided they should not return.
– a pseudo-haiku.
ㅁ and then when things start going badly you start to imagine worse things a grim acceleration towards doom and despair with gnashing of teeth spiteful rages burn it all to the ground
– a nonnet.
ㅁ And then these aliens returned to their spaceship, fired up the rockets, gave a wave, and left.
– a cinquain.
ㅁ The visitors sighed. "We can't help you with this stuff - it's your own big mess."
– a pseudo-haiku.
ㅁ A spaceship landed. A small green creature emerged. "Dang, what's with this place?"
– a pseudo-haiku.
ㅁ Women-fearing fetus-worshippers arose and took over the church; this heresy spawned others: they lay down with mammon, disrespected laws, bore false witness, distrusted children, lied.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I've lived in third world countries, before. Places corrupt, falling apart, and where the social contract doesn't work very well. So on that viewpoint, I've changed countries, not having to leave home.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ still, patches of snow lie there, still, spoiled by gravel rain keeps the trees still
– a pseudo-haiku.
ㅁ I spotted a spider on the wall. "Hey smol spider, what's going on?" In my mind's eye, it looked back, and said, "I have no clue! I'm jus' walking here, and some giant annoys me, asking stuff."
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Seven pieces of ice floated by, out there on the fiordy sea's arm. Seems they'd been liberated from the racing river that seethes at the head of our small bay, fleeing down, seaward, free.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I just had a strange dream (or nightmare): I was looking for some chopsticks. I committed many crimes: breaking and entering deception and fraud ransoming folks. In the end, I found none.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Kiamon looked the world as it was. Deeply dismayed, she then wanted to pause. Stopping was out, though. Her enemies hunted. She watched the snow. Sighed. They'd all be confronted.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter. Part of the continuing stochastic snapshots from life of the fictional being, Kiamon..
ㅁ I have a kind of hypothesis: our slow descent into madness begins with ill-managed rage. Anger is turned inward and gnaws on the brain. Pathways are wrought or broken. No good's left.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I think that if I wasn't bound here by confucian obligation (I speak slightly tongue-in-cheek) - if I was without ties - I'd once again move off overseas to somewhere with rules, calm.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ In mid-winter the mice become bold. One was on our kitchen counter. She met my eyes and pondered this territorial invasion witnessed. "Please leave me now," she implored, "to my crumbs."
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I have been sleeping badly these days. At two AM I jolt awake, and dreams scatter like stray cats. Then I remain alert for an hour or two. The dreams creep back, nestle close, demand time.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ The road was coated in snow and ice. But the still air was cold enough that it was not slippery. Tendrils rose from the sea. On my drive to town, some ravens sat alongside watching things.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ long drive rest areas stores and their parking lots fast food places with their drive-thrus same same
– a cinquain.
ㅁ inside my failing dreams i lurked hidden and dead a ghost trapped in some twist of time watching
– a cinquain.