ㅁ The sun appeared for just a day, or two. Enough to dry the rocks but not the trees. The streams became a little slower then, but rain and fog returned to hurry them.
Category: Couplets and Quatrains
Caveat: Poem #2183 “Sixty-first stanza”
ㅁ Kiamon sat and considered her slump: nothing moved forward, she just was a lump. Nevertheless things would brighten, she thought. Then she would finally find what she sought.
Caveat: Poem #2162 “Sixtieth stanza”
ㅁ Kiamon watched as a raven took wing, pondering just what engendered this thing. Doubts seemed to flee as she hardened her soul, knowing she'd finally take on the role.
Caveat: Poem #2161 “Fifty-ninth stanza”
ㅁ Kiamon never considered the fact: others disliked her avoidance of tact; personally she just viewed it as truth... slightly heroic, to be so uncouth.
Caveat: Poem #2158 “The path taken”
ㅁ I took a road, abstractly lost, awaiting clarity; instead I wandered aimless paths, pure angularity.
Caveat: Poem #1249 “Inversion”
ㅁ Eccentrically, I don't use a bed. Instead each night I lie down on the floor. But that confuses things: I make my bed at bedtime; when I rise it gets unmade.
Caveat: Poem #2147 “Rooted”
ㅁ The wind, it came and pushed the waves along; they gently stroked the stones along the shore. The clouds extended, capturing the sky, and droplets fell to nourish all the green.
Caveat: Poem #2145 “Beginning or end of a story”
ㅁ The sun has cast its glances down upon the fishy seas and lit the dust of narrow roads and mirthless, earnest trees.
Caveat: Poem #2137 “Fifty-eighth stanza”
ㅁ Kiamon drifted along in a daze; life had become an ineffable maze, endlessly throwing up difficult games, sending on detours her previous aims.
Caveat: Poem #2136 “Fifty-seventh stanza”
ㅁ Kiamon struggled to bring it together. All of the clues were piled up like the weather; when you see storm clouds all laden with rain, moody and dark, premonitions of pain.
Caveat: Poem #2128 “Fifty-sixth stanza”
ㅁ Kiamon sat and gazed out at the fog: seemed she was facing a bit of a slog. Not so much bodily as with her mind; somehow she had to escape from this bind.
Caveat: Poem #2124 “The eventual reward”
ㅁ Despite my best procrastination games, the map took shape. Regardless of my aims, a steady application makes it grow and finally it looks like somewhere real.
Caveat: Poem #2123 “Unmotivated”
ㅁ The day presented tasks to do, and some of them got done; but in the end I noticed more the clouds yield to the sun.
Caveat: Poem #2116 “Fifty-fifth stanza”
ㅁ Kiamon yielded to sleep's dull caress. What they had said had all failed to impress. Nothing she knew was in fact making sense: she'd have to wait now for future events.
Caveat: Poem #2084 “Debatable”
ㅁ Poems are good, or they're bad - you decide. Take a position, defend either side. Meanings can bend, semiotics can shift, all in your mind, and the changes are swift.
Caveat: Poem #2083 “Manifesto”
ㅁ Spring is unbearable, just like the fall: seasons do best when they're in one and all. Likewise the sun shouldn't vary each day: better to have it a lot, or away.
– a quatrain dactylic tetrameter. Bear in mind the “narrator’s voice” here really isn’t my opinion. It’s a kind of exaggerated, somewhat facetious narrator speaking.
Caveat: Poem #2081 “Fifty-second stanza”
ㅁ Kiamon felt that the dreams were obscure. Meaning was vague and she just wasn't sure. Grandfather's ghost never laid it all out: rather he seemed to throw symbols about.
Caveat: Poem #2080 “Fifty-first stanza”
ㅁ Kiamon never imagined there'd be obvious answers to questions we see; nevertheless she still could not deny ghost-given answers were often quite sly.
Caveat: Poem #2051 “Grr”
ㅁ I walked along my path today and gave the plants a glare so mean that in the end they fell back, seemingly aware.
Caveat: Poem #2045 “Toward epistemic heat death”
ㅁ "If you are a divergentist, you hold that the social-cognitive universe is expanding towards an epistemic heat death of universal solipsism, and you are at peace with this thought." - Venktash Rao when epistemic death heat comes the universe will end amid an endless chattering of apophenic trends
– a quatrain in ballad meter, on a philosophical topic that piqued my interest.
Caveat: Poem #2044 “No dog”
ㅁ no dog preferred to just sit still no dog would contemplate no dog could ever be a sage no dog can self-sedate
Caveat: Poem #2043 “A dog”
ㅁ a dog will bound along the road a dog will dance and twist a dog will gnaw the leaning trees a dog will taste the mist
Caveat: Poem #2042 “Inscription on air”
ㅁ "As far as blah-blah on the words," she said... No meaning mattered once the tongue got loose, it made its own saussurean designs inscribed across the map of hopes and doubts.
Caveat: Poem #2040 “Another plan for a novel I won’t write”
ㅁ I ask myself if there could ever be a dream wherein the morning never came and in the end the dreamer would become a kind of listless spirit, all alone.
Caveat: Poem #1998 “Forty-ninth stanza”
ㅁ Kiamon maybe once thought to herself "might just be better to put on a shelf; face all the ways that we each reach our end; face just the fact that the gods' wills don't bend."
Caveat: Poem #1992 “Forty-eighth stanza”
ㅁ Kiamon gazed at the fog on the lake weather had forced her to take a short break. Still she grew frustrated, time passed her by... hopes were obscured just as clouds hid the sky.
Caveat: Poem #1986 “Miracle”
ㅁ The cancer grew and made a stand, but doctors made it die The years have passed both slow and fast and somehow I'm still spry.
Caveat: Poem #1984 “Still dead”
ㅁ In hospital, I realized I was dead: a ghost abroad in lands just dimly lit. I wandered past the wails of those in pain aware of only dust and aimless paths.
Caveat: Poem #1983 “Slide”
ㅁ If Christmas were a country road, the presents made of ice then that would be my daily drive and really not so nice.
Caveat: Poem #1968 “Forty-seventh stanza”
ㅁ Kiamon ducked to avoid the man's gaze. He only glanced quickly, stuck in his ways. Once he had gone, she got up and pursued, mind overwhelmed with resolving the feud.
Caveat: Poem #1967 “Forty-sixth stanza”
ㅁ Kiamon didn't know what was in store. Riding the train through the night was a bore. Suddenly someone appeared in the car: dangerous face, with a notable scar.
Caveat: Poem #1966 “Forty-fifth stanza”
ㅁ Kiamon watched as the fields tumbled by. Moonlight illumined the snow and the sky. Slowly the train made its way down the shore. Kiamon didn't know what was in store.
Caveat: Poem #1959 “Forty-fourth stanza”
ㅁ Kiamon thought to herself, what a life: struggling and fighting through battles and strife. Now she could rest for a moment at least, gazing down past the old trees toward the east.