Mind Loves Misery Menagerie has asked that we write haiku on the first day of spring. Hopefully more than one is ok. Calendar: says Spring Ground: still frozen with heaped snow Winter: your time’s done. * March’s beginning, daffodils are still sleeping under white blankets. * March’s twenty first, daffodils and crocus push…
Category: poetry
d’Verse — Confessional
image link Anmol is our host of d’Verse this evening. He has challenged us with: So, the Poetics challenge today is to write a confessional verse in the style of any of these poets or write something which plays with the ideas expressed here — to put your regrets, your guilts, your sins, your humanity,…
#d’Verse — Quadrille to Change
image link De Jackson is the host of d’Verse poet’s pub this evening. De’s prompt follows: The changing of the guards. Spare change. Positive change. Change your clothes. Change your attitude. Change your life. Changed. Changeability. Changing. You could even go a little creepy on us, and write about a changeling. Whatever you write, just…
#MLMM — haiku: first snow
http://gph.is/1hk0w3e Chevrefeuille’s prompt at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie is first snow, where it may be a haiku or haibun. I chose haiku. Pinpricking iced flakes tap skin – and everything else; some melts, some doesn’t.
d’Verse — house ramble and find
Lillian is the hostess this Tuesday with d’Verse poet’s pub. She instructs: So – here’s what I’m asking you to do today. Walk around your house and look at all the things hanging there: on walls, in closets, on your refrigerator door, etc. Pick something that “speaks to you” and use that as the basis…
Bad Boys
image link Today’s Word of the Day Challenge is immature. Although the word immature doesn’t show up in my poem, I hope it describes it enough to pass for the prompt! boys toys man cave bros before hos sex slave drinkin’ a brewski watching the game men don’t do dishes laundry, the same…
d’Verse — Haibun Monday: January
Today’s offering is a haibun written for hostess of the evening’s d’Verse, Kim’s, prompt of January. Waking up at eleven, looking out at another repetition of anemic feebleness that washes the life out everything. Invisible beyond grey, clouds prevent any instance of ROYGBIV. Eyes strain to delineate blah from blah. To say it is preferable…
