ㅁ she needed it wrapped for a three-year-old's birthday: a pink unicorn
– a pseudo-haiku.
Category: My Poetry & Fiction
Caveat: Poem #2004 “The internals”
ㅁ I hear what I want. Easier to make up words than to understand.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #2003 “Gone”
ㅁ The dusk was purple, the fog, thick. The trees had gone wherever trees go.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #2002 “An unsnowing”
ㅁ A great unsnowing unfolded itself across branches and gravel showing the rains' souls in the ice-bottomed puddles and rushing streamlets.
– two stanzas in haiku form.
Caveat: Poem #2001 “False muse”
ㅁ Off in the future, a poem I want to write takes shape and then fades.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #2000 “And yet”
ㅁ You'd think that by now I'd have just given it up: this daily writing.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #1999 “Colder”
ㅁ When it's cold enough the icy road's driveable 'cause it gets sticky.
– a pseudo-haiku.
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."
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
Caveat: Poem #1997 “Eventful commute”
ㅁ Just past seven mile, the car spun out on smooth ice. Still... I got to town.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #1996 “Benevolence”
ㅁ The moon was fullish and smiled down on well-aged snow whitening the night.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #1995 “Without physics”
ㅁ Those oscillations... What's time got to do with it? That's just how it works.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #1994 “The world vs the trip to town”
ㅁ It never just rains but it pours and makes more ice for driving pleasure
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #1993 “The social environment”
ㅁ Negativity All those close share it with me So I succumb too I wax negative About everyone's anger Sure. Let me join in! I can savor it All the terrors and worries Better than beauty
– a poem constructed with three haiku stanzas.
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.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
Caveat: Poem #1991 “Without striations”
ㅁ my mind was a flat expanse where only a few ghosts dance meditations left to chance
– an englyn milwr.
Caveat: Poem #1990 “It’s better that way”
ㅁ as awakeness fades slip into solipsism other worlds flicker
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #1989 “Homogeneous”
ㅁ I'm a kind of paste of pure unmotivation these recent wet days
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #1988 “Life summary”
ㅁ Sometimes I try, but... I'm bad at interacting alone's easier
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #1987 “Adaptability”
ㅁ The power went out. The air outside swarmed with snow. So I built a fire.
– a pseudo-haiku.
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.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
Caveat: Poem #1985 “Awaiting a program to run”
ㅁ The morning is not here yet. I cast about, thoughts a net, adrift, opinions unset.
– an englyn milwr.
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.
– a quatrain in blank verse (iambic pentameter).
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.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
Caveat: Poem #1982 “Layers”
ㅁ Some inches of snow attempted to cover ice but then more rain came.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #1981 “Wave function collapse”
ㅁ we are all just ghosts if we fail to pause and look but looking, we live
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #1980 “New year, new weather”
ㅁ Last year, it had snowed. This year, it's now raining hard. Piles of snow, undone.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #1979 “Cartographer’s pause”
ㅁ The map is sometimes quite neglected. I abandon ideas, plans, and I can't decide what's next. But the past is still there, Rendered in bold lines, true diagrams of unreal places dreamed.
– a reverse nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #1978 “Nature’s handiwork”
ㅁ Rain. It came: to coat snow with some slick slush; to make walking hard so you have to shuffle; to sculpt incongruous clouds that lurk around at ground level, laced with dirt and stones and dog's urine.
– a reverse nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #1977 “The climate is different, a few miles inland”
ㅁ The town is out on a point of land. It's always a bit windy there. Going home, I drive inland, following the sea's arm, the snow gets deeper, the wind dies down, the trees calm, a mist hangs.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #1976 “Driven”
ㅁ A few fresh inches of snow appeared for yesterday morning's commute. But I'm getting used to it. I zig-zag down the road like a blue bobsled armed with four wheels crunching snow tasting ice.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #1975 “Snuffled”
ㅁ There was a mouse, down under the snow. It hid in its small burrow, there. A dog came along the road. The dog's nose sought this mouse. She pawed at the snow. She snuffled close. Still no mouse. Paws clawed. Snort!
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #1974 “Self-actualization”
ㅁ The city contemplated its form: There were passages of water; people came and made houses; roads were cut in the land; factories appeared; highways evolved; trains laid tracks; parks grew. Done.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Poem #1973 “Borne home, unmoved”
ㅁ Recent years, I haven't traveled much. So Minnesota came to me. First, a hefty dose of snow, then clear skies and chill air and a dry coldness that makes the snow underfoot loudly crunch.
– a nonnet.