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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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Posted (edited)

Pearl

 

between the sand and surf they quiver

Scallop shells that strain on end,

obedient to whims of water

Not shut, though they pretend

to be, strained through by thinking of her.

 

there are a million grains of sand

Streaming past into the bay

and they the grit that makes the water

Scar the shells that wait and pray

that there's a way this world is kinder.

 

but what of grit that's swept inside

Sheltering within the shell

that's hid away from whispers, water

Thrashes outside like a bell

yet does not wake the grain; it's calmer.

 

she settles down to rest in velvet

Nacreous and softly breathing

and from demands of soulless water

She is safe, shell's love receiving,

glowing, lets the shell transform her.

Edited by Quincunx
Posted

Very very nice... Can't say too much as I have to go within sixty seconds, but...

 

I like this. The imperfect rhyme seems to fit, and it flows very nicely, without having the slightly unusual rhyme scheme detract from what's being said. Very well done, if I may say so.

  • 8 months later...
Posted

Cat Haiku.

 

(reposted)

 

Accidental meow!

Tried to hold it in, but, but,

You had tuna fish!

 

(revised)

 

Silent killer cat,

Sleeping in a sunshine heap,

Armed with killer farts.

 

(fresh)

 

Let me out again!

Other side is neither here

Nor when I go out.

 

Ew, snow, ew, snow, ick!

Pawprints tell this sorry tale

Until the overhang.

 

(with apologies to suzy becker*)

 

Couch and loveseat both,

Your bed, my bed, here and there--

I flaunt my hair loss.

 

*author of All I Needed to Know I Learned from My Cat, including "Flaunt your hair loss" illustration.

Posted

Wyvern cheers in fond memory of AoA cat haikus, and adds a couple:

 

Cuban cat cigar

Nips the nose and engines toes

Lets honk the meow horn!

 

Prowl like a panther

At night, when none are playful

And cry in sad squeaks.

 

Litter pyramid

Tomb of ancient tuna fish

Built with these bare paws.

 

My personal favorite of the ones you posted here is probably still the "accidental meow" one, which is perfect, though the snow one is a very close second place. All of your haikus are very clever, though.

 

On "Pearl," since I didn't get a chance to comment on it the first time around:

 

I really liked the imagery in this, particularly the way that vanity seems to be implied by the subject of the poem resting in "velvet" and being described as "nacreous" and "glowing" in the last stanza. The entire beach metaphor was also very well done, and I really like how the ocean was personified in the last stanza. I thought that the structure was excellent as well, as both the rhyme scheme in each stanza and the slanted rhyme at the end of each stanza connecting them seemed to add to the rhythm of the poem. The syllable count also contributed to this, and I liked how the third line of each stanza was longer than the others with nine syllables.

 

Very good poem.

  • 6 months later...
  • 2 weeks later...
  • 11 months later...
Posted

A rare revision, revised bits in italics although the complete poem will have none.

 

Pearl

 

between the rocks and surf they quiver

Scallop shells that sway on end,

obedient to whims of water

Not shut, though they will all pretend

to be, strained through and thinking of her.

 

there are a million grains of sand

Streaming past into the bay

becoming grit that makes the water

Scar the shells which wait and pray

that there's a way this world is kinder.

 

but what of sand that's swept inside

Sheltering within the shell

that's hid away from whispers, water

Clamors outside like a bell

yet does not wake the grain; it's calmer.

 

she settles down to rest in velvet

Nacreous and softly breathing

and from demands of soulless water

She is safe, shell's love receiving,

glowing, lets the shell transform her.

  • 2 years later...
Posted

Gold

 

The birchwood glows with age, the speckles splash,

and the dasher soars up and down in gold and milk;

scent flashes in the sun, bees scatter light.

I am the golden, the morning, the fiery song.

 

The morning shines pale as the dasher leaps up,

feathered with speckles of cream. All else is gold:

the birchwood and the bees, the wings which catch

the spilling sun, the floating flakes of fire.

 

Did Parsifal stop, and rest his white-winged shield,

to sip the milk that shines in the cup of the sun?

Or did he stay his path under glittering bees,

taste the morning, shake his head, and travel on?

 

I am the fire that quenches the watery morn.

I am the honey that rings the neck of the swan.

 

Writer's Workshop thread

  • 1 year later...
Posted

Clap

 

That's not the way hands were meant to meet!

Stretch your arms and let me hold your wrists

gently, bring your palms together. Not so slow.

Try again. Yes, it makes a noise!

That's called a clap, now pat your palms on mine!

Patty-cake, patty-cake, baker's man--

Why are you a baker's man? I don't know!

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