ㅁ I dreamed my own self-trepanation, which is a quite strange thing to dream. So, where do these thoughts come from? What suggested a nail and a small hammer? It was nothing that I'd seen. Random stuff.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I dreamed my own self-trepanation, which is a quite strange thing to dream. So, where do these thoughts come from? What suggested a nail and a small hammer? It was nothing that I'd seen. Random stuff.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I heard the slow drizzle on the roof. But then I went outside, and saw there were many stars instead. Somehow the clouds had fled, during that short time. The sky's changes disregard even night.
– a nonnet.
#Poetry #nonnet
ㅁ Getting up before dawn, I saw stars. I failed to notice their movement; rather, they were fixed and still. Some tree branches imposed, drawing their stark lines. A single star blinked, wavered: a leaf swung.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ There were leaves racing along the road, flung around by the passing cars. They seemed to be sentient. Which is to say, panicked, suffering, fearful, fleeing traffic, jumping down ditchward, hurt.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Apple pie was a necessity. So Juli rolled out some pie crust, pressed it into the pie plate. She has pre-made filling from their apple trees. The top added, oven hot, it baked... done!
– a nonnet.
ㅁ The years transformed into confusion, and that, in turn, turned to anger. The missing information rendered malevolent in its mere absence, floated like leaves lost by trees - just like Fall.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ In my dreams, a billionaire's small child capriciously commanded me to perform some pointless tasks. I resisted, angry. But the games went on. World aflame, she... revealed her robot face.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ The stories accumulate like snow, forming drifts among the neurons. The underlying spaces become blurred and smoothed out. The stories remain. You can study their patterns and find self.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ "Precipitation as a service." It would be unprecedented, as a business model. You could get just as much as you had paid for; the obstacle: those stubborn flighty clouds.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ The rain came in gusts, gales, attacking trees. They bent, weary and wary but strong. The atmosphere was like mad birds. It drew secret glyphs of air. Unreadable... we wept. Without remedy. Disconsolate. We lay down. On moss. Still.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Dark took hold, set its sights on longer nights. The clouds assisted in this endeavor.
– a tetractys.
ㅁ Kiamon noted the rats by the grate. Sunset had passed, and the time had grown late. Streetcars were scarce. A dull mist filled the air. Facing her future, she muttered a prayer.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter. This is yet another random snippet from the life of Kiamon, a fictional being in an imaginary world.
ㅁ These daily trees appear each day, and still you'd think I'd tire of such monotony; but each of them's unique, and proves to us the world's a space much bigger than our minds.
– a quatrain in blank verse (iambic pentameter).
ㅁ I didn't sleep well. There were strange snippets of dreams. Plumbing with barcodes.
– a pseudo-haiku.
ㅁ Ghosts surveyed solid things, made conclusions: being spirits offered advantages.
– a tetractys.
#Poetry #Tetractys
ㅁ air got warm... well, speaking relatively: warm enough to thaw the frost on the road
– a tetractys.
ㅁ sad lolcow quite angry but amusing everyone there just laughing and pointing
– a tetractys. The word “lolcow” is contemporary slang – it means a foolish person who is the object of ridicule and bullying.
ㅁ sun setting did that thing the colors stacked red orange yellow green blue deepest night
– a tetractys.
ㅁ Frost occurs as air cools close to the ground: The wind-ghosts flee and all things become still.
– a tetractys.
ㅁ Kiamon left her old daydreams behind, knowing at this point she'd best clear her mind. Sneaking suspicions took root in her brain: people were plotting a hidden campaign.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
ㅁ The raven stood beside the road, perched there along some stones. Some hunter'd left a pointless pile of disregarded bones.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ I drive to town a lot these days, sometimes it is a bore. I've started naming potholes, now, 'cause them, you can't ignore.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
ㅁ heavy snow frozen night icy road crisp winter damp drizzle slushy afternoons absent sun second winter clear day overcast day unrepentant snow desultory spring this alaskan summer lasts a day or two before the rainforest reasserts itself prioritizing precipitation heavy rain hungry potholes brown leaves insistent autumn
– a quennet.