The Cadralar: Poetic Form for the Times

1.
Red yarn raucously stretched,
tangled up and down stairs.
Cat spent
chin rests on ball’s remainder,
tail and right paw ensnared.

2.
Snow melts under warming sun.
Water rushes over boulders
carves trail in mountainside.
Carries, tosses rocks and branches
gurgles loudly in rapids below.

3.
Tuk tuks, bicycles, tarp covered trucks, cars.
All jockey in and out as drivers gesticulate.
Heat blazes, smog suffocates.
Traffic lights. Detour signs. No matter.
Throng pushes ever on.

4.
Hurdles placed, runners crouched
starter gun sounds.
Numbered bibs blurr.
Some clear barriers, never look back.
Others fall, lay defeated. Eating dry dust.

5.
Blue tsunami gathering steam.
November third in sight.
Maneuvering through noise
through blustering lies
the race to empathy, truth, democracy.

Written for Meet The Bar at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Laura asks us to write a CADRALAR, a unique poetic form explained below.

Cadralar:
Poem of five numbered stanzas.
Each stanza an imagist poem that can stand alone: a photograph if you will, but seemingly unrelated to the other stanzas, until you read the 5th and final stanza.
Stanzas’ lines should be similar in length.
Final 5th stanza, reveals the thread between the first four stanzas and answers the question, “What do you yearn for?”

Hint: I often find it helpful to go back and read the first four stanzas, after reading the final one!

FYI for those readers not from the US: November 3rd is election day in the US. It is not a presidential election year – that doesn’t come until 2028. But, we do vote for a large number of US congress folks (House of Representatives and the Senate), as well as important state offices including governors and members of state legislatures. If we “flip” Senate and House seats to the Democratic party, it will strip Donald Trump of much of his power and there could even be another impeachment, albeit a successful one in terms of removing him from office. All of these are possibilities. Many in the US, like across the globe, are tired and furious with what the Trump administration has done to the US and its ripple effect on the globe as well. Stay tuned for results on November 3rd.

*Red is the color of the Republican party: the group of sycophants following President Trump’s MAGA agenda.

*Blue is the color of the Democratic party.

A Short Political Ditty for the Times

Hum-diddly-dee
hum-diddly-dum.
Sing out with glee,
beat that drum!

Add words to your tune,
“sycophants be gone”!
Revile the buffoon,
use your brassiest song.

Come November third
rise up, Land of the Brave.
Drown this theater of the absurd
in a tsunami blue wave!



Written for dVerse, the online pub for poets around the globe. Today, De asks us to write a quadrille including the word “hum” or a form of the word.

Quadrille: a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title, that includes a particular word provided in the prompt.

Living in a Run-On Sentenced World

how did we get to this place
where journalists are called piggy and stupid
and the one before is called sleepy joe while the one now
who was also before the one before
nods off in televised meetings but wakes up
demanding cabinet members sling odes of praise
while hiding their genuflecting knees below the conference table
refusing to speak against indulgences given to insurrectionists
as others under his spell fund masked men
not Zorro types
accosting individuals who by the way are not eating your pets
rather paying taxes to raise their children who are US citizens
being good neighbors attending church
working jobs that need bodies who show up and care

we need Martin and Jesse
John Lewis and Barbara Jordon
to be here again
we need their spirited tenacity to rile up cowardly sycophants
to grow backbones and finally say enough is enough

meanwhile he’s playing feral tom cat lifting his leg all over DC
leaving his mark so future felines and species of any kind
will know he was here in his gilded age of narcissism
adding his name atop JFKs and on towers and arch de trumps
even as he paints the Reflecting Pond blue
in the image of Mar-a-Lago’s swimming pool
which as he explained with posters as visual aids
is taller than any of the tallest buildings in the world
never mind it’s a pool of water lying prone on the ground
not a building actually standing tall reaching to the sky

he’s become an AI Master in the wee hours
evidenced by his creations
something no other president has or ever will be
see Donald the pilot dropping shit bombs everywhere
while JD warns Leo to be careful talking about theology
his boss created himself in the image of Christ
and it goes on and on and on like a run-on sentence
with no stops no resets no commas
just implicitly felt exclamation marks slung everywhere
until we the people add our own exclamation mark
and say NO in November

let the reckoning come


Written for Tuesday’s Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Melissa asks us to write a poem with no punctuation.

Image by Vilius Kukanauskas from Pixabay