April Poetry Challenge 2021: Day Thirty

 

Day 30 Prompt: Goodbye

Form: Imayo

“Loss is a Home”

There are moments that break us - in words and belief

We hold on to picture frames - hang them in the halls

The glass forged by their goodbyes - feel hairline fractures

Hallway dark with our shadow - worn into carpet

April Poetry Challenge 2021: Day Twenty-Nine

 

Day 29 Prompt: Evening

Form: Rondel

“House”

House, dark and asleep, I can write.

The last of my breath fills the page,

as the writer now takes the stage.

Computer screen shines, a spot light

on my monologue, so quiet -

keep the peace, even when I rage.

House, dark and asleep, I can write.

The last of my breath fills the page.

Words roll on the screen like headlights,

blinding my tired eyes of age.

Time’s script always sends me downstage

to find a rhyme to this good night.

House, dark and asleep, I can write.

Poetic Form 89: Rispetto

 

Little Blue House

There sits a little blue house at the center

of everywhere. The sidewalk curving around

a cul-de-sac named for someone they never

knew. At night the lights cut squares on the dark ground.

Shadows dash about, laughter echos off walls.

The door opens for friends, on the floor coats fall.

In the morning, the smell of coffee awakes

a little blue house where love mends all mistakes.

Poetic Form #89: Rispetto

The rispetto form is from 14th century Italy. There are two common variations:

Rispetto #1: comprises two quatrains written in iambic tetrameter (8 syllables).

Rispetto #2: composed of 8 hendecasyllabic (11-syllable) lines--

usually one stanza. (Option I wrote my poem in.*)

There are also two common rhyme schemes: ababccdd* 

or abababcc (older scheme).

Poetic Form 62: Concrete Form

 

Poetic Form #62: Concrete Form

A concrete poem is written so that the shape of the words on the page matches the subject of the poem.

Poetic Form 31: Huitain

Little Museums

Let me take you on a tour of

the museums in this city.

Houses with too many lives shoved

into open concepts, so pretty

for the guest. The smiles so witty,

but later behind theses closed doors;

dust settles on broken dreams, gritty

exchanges litter the wood floors.

Poetic Form #31: Huitain

The huitain form has an ababbcbc rhyme scheme, 8-lines 
and 8 to 10 syllables per line.

Poetry Challenge Day 21: Love / Anti-love

*I decide to try to write a love poem around a moment that could have two outcomes. The love / anti-love poem put together. The moment is a huitain poem, the decision is written in two sonnets with a single couplet that works for both sonnets.

Believe In

The Moment (huitain)

Facing each other we seek it 

in the middle of a lost crowd.

Obligations in one pocket.

The other filled with dreams avowed.

Eyes hold steady, speaking out loud

my voice shakes as I ask you to

believe a fairy tale allowed.

You pause, eyes drifting down, no clue.

You Say Yes (sonnet)

As you grab my hand with yours that would soon

shine bright with ring, vows in ceremony

house bought with last of our dimes, kiss at noon

love in the afternoon, such a memory.

Soon a son to carry on my name rite.

Daughters to follow. We spend many nights awake.

Check homework, heal relationships, write

to-do list, and watch how years can take

away friends, yet build a family around

a table for the holidays. The joy

of milestones fills scrapbooks, pictures abound.

Dancing in an empty house, time is coy.

You Say No (sonnet)

My hand outstretched, you turn away too soon.

Heartbreak is a special ceremony,

I call your name. Stand alone at high noon.

No goodbye, or soft kiss for memory.

The days turn to months, years, a healing rite

I follow my muse, that keeps me awake.

Pen to paper, sorrow to page I write.

Others try to unchain my trust, they take

silence as poetic license around

their affection. Their soft hands hold no joy

for my desire to see your heart abound

through my years. At a distance I stay coy.

Concluding Couplet

A moment is all love needs to change life’s

path. For this poet, it cuts like a knife.

I Know the Devil Fancies Me

*inspired by a line from the song, “St. Ideas,” from Macklemore (in italics)

I know the devil fancy me

When the light fades from my heart

Walls are constructed in minutes

Doubt, in a hard hat, bossing the workers,

    megaphone turned up

Fear laying down bricks after anger applies the mortar

I guess Love is on an extended coffee break

    because the truck sits empty

And there is the devil, smiling over the blueprints

    of the house we will live in

He dreams of family dinners alone

Drinking his favorite spirits in a dark living room

“Oh what a life we will build,”

    he whispers into my soul

“Think of all the empty photo albums we will fill

    with what could have been

The minutes, the hours, the years recorded with just a dash

    on a headstone that no one visits

I promise you these will be hurtful years”

But that don't mean that *****  gets to dance with me

I grab a backpack, fill it with a few books,

    past love letters, paper, and pens

Turn toward the devil to throw him the keys

He rolls the blueprints tightly in his hands until the ink

    flows like blood between his knuckles

Hate drops the iron door he was preparing to hang

All construction stops

The devil takes my hand as if to dance, inquires

    “Where do you think you’re going?”

I pull free, declining the invitation to move

    into a house that isn’t home

“I’m joining Love for coffee,” I say as I walk away

After the Storm

The clouds have receded

The concrete grey and puddled

A fresh aroma of dirt and blossoms

The sun now hot on damp skin

The fears have receded

Windows still un-cracked

The flags sagging against the pole

The sun now melting the hail

The hours have receded

Children are swinging

Mom has yelled that dinner is ready

The sun now fading below the horizon

House to Home

There is a blue hand towel

on the floor below the right corner of the dishwasher

It leaks sometimes

I don't know why

The front door is scuffed with colors

    from the different door decorations

There are socks

in crumbled balls on the living room floor

Crumbs under the table

Toothpaste on the bathroom mirror

This is a house

        With a yard that has a few dandelions

           Nicks on the wall

And the roof has been replaced

But this is also a home

Filled with bubble baths

Family dinners

And groans when mom says it is time to clean the rooms

Pictures hang on the wall

capturing moments of joy

The DVD player has the girls’ favorite movie

The radio the boys’ favorite station

The pantry

filled with cereal and Pop-Tarts

three flavors of chips

and boxes of blueberry muffin mix

The hour is late

Time for bed

Stories and goodnights fill

the hallways

As this house rest from being a home

Fire Fighter

A spark can start anywhere

   the kitchen

      or bathroom

         or on the patio steps

A simple spark

   ignited by whim

     choice

       or simply tired eyes

The spark

quickly engulfs the walls

wrangles on the carpet

I hear the crinkling of flames

echo in the vents

I breathe in

Knowing I will burn my hands

  but must find a way

    to extinguish the fire

       before it blackens the woodwork

       before we cannot scrub

the smoke stains from our fingernails

My hands become hot

holding this spark

  this fire

the heat runs deeper than my skin

The smoke calls forth tears

but then

     the oxygen is pulled from the room

     from the spark in my hand

and little arms wrap around my neck

a little head snuggles into my shoulder

we walk out of the house

Fire fighter and daughter