ㅁ ...joyfully displaced from the places I've been placed by fate or fortune.
– a pseudo-haiku.
ㅁ Well, I'm glad that's over now. This aging... always getting older, how? ...furrowed brow.
– an englyn cil-dwrn .
ㅁ The years fall down like drops of rain. And soon you're just a muddy road. You learn to overlook the pain. The years fall down like drops of rain. You write cliches, the words are plain, 'Cause life deserves an aimless ode. The years fall down like drops of rain. And soon you're just a muddy road.
– a triolet.
ㅁ Fentwithe, he dysbawked, impormevisly dehonged, abrue maffended.
– a pseudo-haiku. This poem is nonsense, in the style of Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky. But to be clear, much of my internal monologue is like this.
#Poetry #Haiku #Senryu
ㅁ the alder leaves fade sometimes fail to turn yellow just fall down instead
– a pseudo-haiku.
ㅁ Words pile up, all jumbled, accumulate. Their meanings collect in semiotic berms, to surround the world's events, but without intention, like rain, until at last a text is produced.
– a reverse nonnet.
ㅁ The eagle has a plan: soar. Fly up, first, with wings' strength - a burst - before settling to a glide, no more.
– an englyn penfyr.
ㅁ My mind is a parliament of selves. Angry debates rage on the floor, while the nation, rudderless, careens from rock to rock. The prime minister, having outsourced decisions, resigns. Closed.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Drop! The leak sent water to the bucket which I'd positioned to catch all the drops.
– a tetractys.
ㅁ I trimmed some branches that blocked my small trail: too easy, can't fail, so I walked along, cutting, while birds talked.
– an englyn penfyr.
ㅁ I think the silence isn't there. Instead, the world is random sound, but all inside, a constant blare. I think the silence isn't there. A buzzing rules the inner air, all meaning's lost, like sailors drowned. I think the silence isn't there. Instead, the world is random sound.
– a triolet.
ㅁ I awoke to the sound of the rain. Here in my treehouse, it is loud. Sometimes it sounds like voices: murmurations of ghosts, desultory sounds, gravity's words, the gods melt, climb down, cry.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ My numerous eccentricities - this weird self-hosted blog thingy, the cartographic hobbies, sleeping on the hard floor... This pile of habits make me wonder: perhaps I'm just a crank.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ blub! the fish swam along plunged up and out and back down with a splash tasting the rain.
– a tetractys.
ㅁ having been in the army; times like these: discipline, freeze, just agree, exhaustion seethes in me
– an englyn penfyr.
ㅁ With August not yet over, now, a fall-like day arrives, as rain. The light has changed. I'm not sure how. With August not yet over, now, it's like a pause in time. The tao of things; the seasons shifting, vain. With August not yet over, now, a fall-like day arrives, as rain.
– a triolet.
ㅁ short's better... fewer words... well, maybe more: you got things to say... so just make sentences, or run-on masses of text, sesquipedalian rhythms, even wax poetic if you can.
– a reverse nonnet.
ㅁ "Rain!" "Soon, now." "We need it." "The gods know this." The man lowered supplicant hands, resigned.
– a tetractys.
ㅁ The map has abandoned me. Or maybe, alternately, set me free, but it leaves me so lonely.
– an englyn penfyr.
ㅁ No time like now for dull despair, for setting up bland rationales. We architect our disrepair. No time like now for dull despair. Our moodiness disturbs the air, our monologues destroy morale. No time like now for dull despair, for setting up bland rationales.
– a triolet.