Seeking Joy – a Dizain poem

wilted purple rose by Sharon McCutchen on Unsplash

Seeking Joy – a Dizain poem

Thoughts go racing wildly around my brain
nameless horrors that painfully sear
into my memory so filled with pain
heart fluttering with anxiety and fear
loneliness aches, cry a single tear.
I must somehow carry on, be brave
find the sun and from darkness I must save
joy that was mine before the nights grew cold
merry songs not dirges sung before the grave
evenings warm and gay, stars bright and bold.

For dVerse Poets – More Dizain

“The dizain is a poem of ten lines with ten syllables per line and a rhyme pattern ababbccdcd.”

Til next time ~Peace ~JPP

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How to Live a Magic Life – a Wordle

wordle 407

How to Live a Magic Life – a Wordle

Life can be messy, so have the courage to be vulnerable.
Let your soul talk and listen to the stories of struggle and success.
Remember to live and not merely exist.
Lean on your friends sometimes.
Go out of your way to be kind.
Let this be you mantra:
“Those who do not believe in magic will never find it.”

For the sundaywhirl wordle

Til next time ~Peace ~JPP

Away

face-by Arte anomina on pixabay
art by Arte Anomina on pixabay

For dverse poets this week’s prompt: blame and forgiveness. Either one. Or both. There are no other constraints. 

Away

You messed up, bad
and now you’re sorry
I get that, and
I forgave you a long time ago
not for your sake, but for mine
your being sorry
and my forgiving you
doesn’t change what you did
it doesn’t change
the way I see you now
the way I feel about you now
or what I think of you now Continue reading “Away”

A Wild Lament

FFFC 2.18.19

A Wild Lament

She always came out in the late morning. Bathing in the little creek that ran near her cottage. They said she was a witch, but the animals didn’t care, a few of them came every morning to listen as she played her flute. Her song lilted through the crisp morning air, then turning to a slightly mournful score filled with quiet solitude and, perhaps, just a touch of loneliness. It was her offering to the day, a wild lament of the beauty and loneliness of a girl alone with nature. The littlest deer came closer and closer gazing up at her with brown eyes filled with adoration. Continue reading “A Wild Lament”

The Statue

For Fifty Word Thursday this week is over at Tales from the mind of Kristian

here are the words: From the moment we saw him most of us lived in dread of him

Here is the photo:

50 word thrs 2.14.19

The Statue

He was tall and lean with the ropy strength of tendon, muscle and bone, his hands calloused from years of genuine, hard, work. He demanded nothing of his employees that he did not demand of himself. He was a hard man, but a fair man. Yet from the moment we saw him, most of us lived in dread of him. Perhaps it was his ice blue eyes that could see straight through any lie. Or the piercing pain and sorrow that lay hidden beneath those icy depths even when his face held a smile. But I think it was the statue at his office that we dreaded most. The woman astride a wave, friend to bird and fish and all things of the sea. She held a construction pylon in one hand, a constant, silent reminder of the tragic traffic accident that had taken his wife all those years ago.

Word count 150

Til next time ~Peace ~JPP

Found Poetry February day 4 – Spring Sky – deconstructed poem

wakatipu 2

Another example of Found Poetry is poetry you find in unexpected places. The following is from the quay along the Queenstown docks, bits of engraved brass worked into the stone. The words are from the travel journal of one of the early explorers of Queenstown, NZ and they ramble along the wall in a ribbon of poetry. I have condensed three panels into this picture. For the purposes of this exercise, I’m making a new poem out of them by deconstructing. All words of the new poem are contained in the original script but may be out of order. Continue reading “Found Poetry February day 4 – Spring Sky – deconstructed poem”

The Scent of Love

TT 1.29.19
Photo by Oleg Magni at Pexels.com

The Scent of Love

I watched her roll out the dough. Her hands were worn and gnarled with age but strong and gentle still. The cookies would soon fill her kitchen with the heady scent of sugar and flour, and love. Her secret ingredient remains a secret to this day. I think it was love.

character count 272

For Kat’s Twittering Tales come join us for fun and lessons in brutal editing. 😉

Til next time ~Peace ~JPP