Clown me, please.
Paint a smile on my face
and give me huge clodhoppers.
Stomp with me through muck and lies.
This bulbous red nose?
Not from weeping.
It toots raucously –
my exclamation point
to your inane arguments.
Living in this three-ring circus
it’s the only way to survive.
Clown me, please.
You loved me Joe
braggadocio
impresario,
only to go.
I’m singin’ these blues,
you still my muse.
But I remember long ago
I pleaded, don’t go.
But you left me alone
strummin’ the twelve-bar blues.
My spirit so damn low,
heart’s dyin’ like indigo.
I had fun with this one…..tried to write a poem as a 12-bar blues composition.
The chord progress of a 12-bar blues is I – I – I – I – IV – IV – I – I – V – IV – I – I
Translated to a rhyme scheme, I used AAAA-BBAA-CBAA.
The video is a short description of how to create and play the 12-bar blues chord progression. Fun to listen to.
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Kim hosts and asks us to include the word BLUE or a form of the word in our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title.
You are depressing us
with your despicable views
untruths, divisive directives.
Can you step back from yourself,
walk in the shoes of those you call others?
Can you listen rather than spew incoherently?
The world watches as you blunder defiantly.
So you say
only birds gather
to crow and cackle,
perched on wires
their party line?
Yet I see
humans wearing blinders
yes-we-believing
crowing the party line,
trying to keep their perch.
My hope?
I sense winds shifting,
see phoenix regain strength
poised to regenerate
and soar again in truth.
Written for Misky’s Twiglet #181: so you say. Photo from pixabay.com
Man, woman
he, she.
Human humanity
their, heir
inhumanity.
Manual workmen
and man hours.
Policeman, fireman
chairman too.
Language affects action.
Live,
love,
be.
Written for Tuesday’s Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Anmol hosts and asks us to write a poem about “pride, gender, fluidity, sexuality, protest . . .” Image from Pixabay.com
Believe in
Love.
Actually begin to
Comprehend,
Knowingly.
Live today
Inquiring, searching.
View
Equality as
Something
Meant for, but not given to
All.
Take time
To
Explore white privilege as
Reality. And understand,
ACROSTIC: poem in which the first letter of each line, when read from top to bottom, has meaning. Sharing with OLN at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets.
TO READ THIS POEM:
1. Read as you would a normal poem, noting the last line ends with a comma,
2. so continue reading by going to the first letter of each line (bolded) and puting these letters together, you have the actual ending of the poem.
Voices gain volume
numbers explode,
paradigm shift dawns.
Breeze gathers force
waters churn,
tsunami rolls in.
Murder abhorrent
eclipses pandemic,
births needed polemic.
Privilege unmasked
blinders torn asunder,
we will change.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Today Frank asks us to write a 3 line poem….or a poem with 3-line stanzas. Photo from Pixabay.com
dark clouds gather,
humidity thickens.
Thunder mumbles, then roars
lightning rips through skies.
Slip inside for thine own relief
breathe in thine own security.
Or gather outside ‘neath city lights
take hands in solidarity.
Pray together for soothing rains
to ease this land’s parched soul.
Then work together that all may live
without the threat of storms.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, combining yesterday’s prompt word “slip” and today’s prompt to write a poem that related to rain.
He fancied himself a loner.
Enjoyed solitude.
Cabin deep in woods.
Gardener. Hunter.
Private well and still too.
Voracious reader, simple cook.
No need for wife.
Too troublesome,
would probably snore too.
Social distancing?
Should be a snap,
except for that damned guy.
Stood in his way or followed behind
whenever the sun warmed up the day.
Written fordVerse, the virtual pub for poets where on Tuesday, Bjorn asked us to write a poem that somehow relates to solitude, and Thursday Frank asks us to write a 14 line poem.
PROMPT FROM TOADS FOR April 30: The final day of National Poetry Month 2020
“A few minutes from now, you will lose all means of communication with humanity. You will not die, but will no longer be able to interact with the world. Whats the last thing you say?”
Entombed in silence,
solitudinously cocooned
in diaphanous gauze,
but nothing to see.
Nor can I hear.
Senses extraneous
when it is only me.
No exit,
only an aperture to my mind.
And so I choose to hum
not aloud, but in my mind.
Hesitantly, quietly,
internally.
Until my head is screaming
screaming that song.
What the world needs now
is love, sweet love.
But alas.
It is too late.
And shared with dVerse, the virtual put for poets, where it’s OLN Thursday.
Take a moment – the newcaster is on for just a moment…then comes the video at about 26 or 28 seconds in…..it is incredibly uplifting! I PROMISE you will love it! A wonderful piece to listen to as we end NAPOWRIMO 2020!
