ㅁ Last year, it had snowed. This year, it's now raining hard. Piles of snow, undone.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Category: My Poetry & Fiction
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.
Caveat: Poem #1972 “Photonic flight”
ㅁ The atoms slowed down the few photons fled the scene the air became still.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #1971 “Citizenship”
ㅁ I'm a citizen of these nights' contingencies awaiting the cold.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #1970 “Tense”
ㅁ I'm feeling burnt out. I think it's the bad commute: a near hour on ice.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #1969 “Bane”
ㅁ No, I'd rather it not rain. Snow is fine, with the moonshine. With the rain ice on the road is my bane.
– an englyn penfyr.
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.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
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.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
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.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
Caveat: Poem #1965 “Hopes and dreams”
ㅁ I wake up each day and realize I'm a dog. It's so exciting.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #1964 “Progress”
ㅁ The sun leaves early. Then the pale dusk hangs around. At last, the stars show.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #1963 “The inevitable evolution of things”
ㅁ I have made some friends that I have since failed to keep; time becomes neglect.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #1962 “The sign of the shovel”
ㅁ There's no surprise I spent all the night dreaming of snowshoveling.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #1961 “Ah, the life”
ㅁ The power was out. So I spent the day reading and shoveling snow.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Poem #1960 “You read about it first, here”
ㅁ Looping in circles: I dreamed I started a blog. Yes. Another blog.
– a pseudo-haiku.
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.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter,
Caveat: Poem #1958 “The day’s start”
ㅁ I wake up early. Too early, but I'm awake. Might as well get up.
– a pseudo-haiku,
Caveat: Poem #1957 “Wisdom”
ㅁ There's no easy path. There are easy points of view. There are hard moments.
– a pseudo-haiku,
Caveat: Poem #1956 “My corporeal hydrology”
ㅁ My body is full of blood. It races around, courses like a flood, rests at the edges like mud.
– an englyn penfyr,
Caveat: Poem #1955 “So it wasn’t that bad”
ㅁ I drove on the icy road, going slow the potholes, though, were all snowed, the clouds glowed.
– an englyn cil-dwrn
Caveat: Poem #1954 “Reactionaries”
ㅁ Sad philologists mourn the loss of words unheard and rant against youth.
– a pseudo-haiku
Caveat: Poem #1953 “Progressives”
ㅁ Failed philologists walk dogs on snow-covered roads and write bad haiku.
– a pseudo-haiku
Caveat: Poem #1952 “Radicals”
ㅁ Bad philologists invent implausible tongues which no one can speak.
– a pseudo-haiku
Caveat: Poem #1951 “Centrists”
ㅁ Fun philologists generate appendices for complex fictions.
– a pseudo-haiku
Caveat: Poem #1950 “Illumination”
ㅁ When I woke up, now, I went out and walked, predawn. Stars and snow made light.
– a pseudo-haiku
Caveat: Poem #1949 “A dark grey mission”
ㅁ In winter's dark the stones lurk, stark my light's an ark guiding my way. Raindrops glisten; I walk, listen without mission to start my day. I stand and think on the path's brink trees shade like ink... the sky turns grey.
– a rhupunt – a Welsh poem style I tried once before.
Caveat: Poem #1948 “Not quite true”
ㅁ Eldritch cartographers drafted the world, coastlines and islets took shape and unfurled, demons were crafted to lurk in the holes scattered about like impertinent souls.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.