Time for another WD Poetic Forms Challenge. This time around, we’ll be writing nonet poems. Click the link for the rules related to this type of poem. Nonets are pretty easy to figure out. Start with a 9-syllable line and lose a syllable in each line after–all the way down to the 1-syllable 9th line.
If this is your first time participating in a WD Poetic Forms Challenge, here are the guidelines:
- Write as many original nonet poems as you wish and paste them in the comments below
- Please include your name as you would like it to appear in print (just in case you win)
- Deadline for entries is 11:59 p.m. (Atlanta GA time) on July 29, 2012
- Have fun!
Why participate? Well, for one, it’s fun to write poems. For two, it’s free. But for three, the winning poem and poet will be featured in a future issue of Writer’s Digest magazine as a prime example of the nonet form in my Poetic Asides column.
So these challenges incorporate the three F’s: Fun, free, fame
Next week, I’ll announce the winner on this blog.
Until then, have fun poeming!
*****
Follow me on Twitter @robertleebrewer
*****
Start your story right…
…with Awesome First Pages: How to Start Your Story Right, a live webinar by Kate McKean on July 26, 2012. All attendees receive a recorded version of the webinar for later reference and will have the opportunity to receive a critique on the first 500 words of their novels from McKean, who is a literary agent with the Howard Morhaim Literary Agency.
Robert, thanks so much for picking my nonet for the top 10. But – yikes! – I just realized that “Geometry” is not the final draft because line 3 is a syllable short, and I needed to use symbols to keep the “concrete” nature of the poem (with “=” read as “equals”, of course). This is the final version:
Geometry
Pythagoras gave us all the rules:
the formula works every time.
A squared + B squared =
C squared. Hypotenuse,
the long sloping side,
connects it all.
One angle
makes it
right.
Saw this post right before leaving for vacation. Wrote a nonet while in the middle-of-nowhere-Italy. Couldn’t post because our hotel didn’t have internet. Just got home..a day late and a dollar short. Sigh.
Wishing luck to all my friends who took part.
“Baby”
For a time she pooled inside an egg
whirling like a ghost through a rain
that tickled the core of you
with fingers barely formed
yet just strong enough
to wake you up
so deep, so
in. Then—
out.
“How to say goodbye”
I leaned heavily into your side,
so deep your heart was almost mine.
I knew that we, for a time,
were the same. Your lips—mine.
Your tongue and throat—mine.
Your whisper—mine.
Your breath—mine—
And time—
Mine.
“Kiss”
That night we were young, against the brink,
curling skin like pebbles, breathing
soft beneath the torn sky, rain
pooling between our hides.
Underneath, what we
are is newborn—
fresh and clean,
hunting
tongues.
Nonet Competition
Planning to win this competition
Reaching for the stars and grabbing
Having the time of my life
Laughing and having fun
Something new and cool
Practicing it
Loving it
Nonet
poems
Today My Daughter Turns Twenty-One
Little egg now fertilized, you wait
in folds of pleasure. Unmindful
of the future waiting you,
you seek to divide and
multiply, blossom
into this child,
our daughter,
my lamb:
Birth
Ekphrasis poetry
Georgia O’Keeffe
pelvis series
red and yellow
1945
http://jeannewillette.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/pelvis.jpg
Loving Self
Although betrayed, no time for anger
Solutions call for an answer
Where is the journey from here?
Up the path of newness
Climbing to success
Finding new hopes
Living life
Loving
SELF!
Death of a Jazz Musician
I see music move behind your eyes,
your stringed bass heartbeat plucked, throbbing
behind the staff of your ribs;
your breath flutes and flutters,
pulse’s percussion
thumps in your ears
body jazz—
death sings
Life!
A Study in Painting Peppers
My peppers wax themselves each morning.
Like provocations on each stalk,
their shine taunts artists to match
them if they can for gloss,
color and sheen, shape
and size, their seeds
grinning at
their slow
burn.
Storm Song with Light Show
Mumbling cloud masses drum, their rhythm
raising the call to lightning’s flash,
to jazzle, dazzle, splash of
rain riding swooshing wind
to pitter pat down
onto dry earth,
music’s birth.
Sing, birds,
frogs!
Sleep New Baby
Beautiful new baby fast asleep
kisses from mommy on your cheek
rub from mommy on your feet
love from mommy to you
sleep new baby, dream
When you awake
she’ll be there
to love
you
Doubt
You said, you hit him. I said, not so,
the thump was his palm on the trunk.
I had driven the wrong way
on a one-way street. Yet
we see he can walk!
With no more talk
I slow but
do not
stop.
“No More”
As of this day forward, it is I
That will decide what my fate is,
Because there isn’t a soul
Out there that will decide
What I will become
Or what will make
Me happy
In the
End.
“Bottom of the List”
What is my number one fear in life?
It is the biggest fear that is
Always placed on the bottom
Of the list, so I will
Place it on the top,
For my biggest
Fear in my
Life is
Death.
In Paradise
Why are things still the way that they are?
You ask yourself repeatedly
as you erase all the lines
that had been drawn in sand
on the sunny beach
in paradise
beyond the
breaking
point.
By Michael Grove
Well Lit
Don’t dwell in darkness any longer
as the footpath you must follow
is well lit for the journey
onward to the bright light.
You will feel yourself
starting to drift
off to a
peaceful
place.
By Michael Grove
PTSD
It’s three tours in and he’s home to stay
With medals, glory and intact
Who could ask for more than that?
But some few weeks later
He just eats his gun
And no-one seems
to know why
They don’t?
Why?
S.E.Ingraham
Putting You Down
All our lives it seemed as if I was
Afraid someone would be trying
To put you down, make you feel
Less than; until you died
Then I held your bag
Of ashes, found
It hard to
Put you
down
S.E.Ingraham
Dusty Old Window
A thick soap scum film on the bathroom
mirror made it impossible
to see what needed to be
seen so wipe it cleaner
than the dusty old
window that does
not allow
you the
view.
By Michael Grove
Hot Soup
The mask became too heavy and slipped
into a large bowl of hot soup.
Callused hands covered his face.
He was not recognized
without that which he
had worn before
so many
for so
long.
By Michael Grove
“Sleepaway weekend”
Like stepping stones across a river,
the weekend without our daughter
hops from pleasure to pleasure
unhurried as before
we found the forest.
From shore to shore
we miss her,
love our
hours.
Forgive Me Holy Father, Truly I Knew Not What I Was Doing
One of the twenty-five thousand souls
in a line at the Vatican
Seized before being let in
For concealing a blade
of all things – on me!
A knife I take
each place I
go – but
there
Muse Musings
Bargaining with the muse proves to be
Many a poet’s undoing
For harsh is she and blood her
Price, accepting nothing
Less, she’ll flay your soul
Lay bare your thoughts
And still not
Promise
Verse
S.E.Ingraham
Rionero’s Swallows
Evening and day these elegant
Acrobats own the cerulean
Sky, above this tiny town …
Scissoring, swooping with
Seeming near misses
Silhouetted
At times but
Never
Still
S.E.Ingraham
Missing Nora Ephron (May 14/41-June 26/12)
She said she felt bad about her neck
And wrote a book called that in fact
So stylish scarves were her thing
But her real stock in trade
Was her endearing sense
Of humour and her
Unfailing sense
Of herself
It is
true
S.E.Ingraham
Olympians
In peace they march into the stadium
Flags held high, they all wave proudly
They have come to compete here
To honour their countries
They will give their all
Leave naught to chance
Go big or
Go on
Home
Drought
Skies empty, hypnotic, endless blue,
landscape baked crisp by July sun,
air shimmering with heat,
the smallest morning cloud
swallowed by the dawn,
we bow our heads
and whisper
the word -
rain
MUD
it got so cold in the blink of an eye
strong winds stirred up out of nowhere
waves came crashing into shore
dark clouds replaced the blue
thunder and lightning
heavy rains drenched
the dirt turned
into
mud
By Michael Grove
My friend’s little boy was watching Spongebob Squarepants singing some silly songs of the sea and, the ‘s’ got stuck in my head. This one is because of that.
Sea S-sense
Shifting sands shivering, sighing skies,
Sursurrating, shushing shingle.
Seagulls screech. Sandpipers sprint.
Soaring, sharp-eyed Seahawks
Singing shanty songs.
Salt scented shells.
Seaweed strands.
Silence
Smiles.
Kerry Laureen
Enough (Let Me See)
We are told there is never enough -
Time, money, chance, worth, truth, hope, love –
Our very selves not enough.
Condemned before we live.
Yet those who see know
The truth is this:
Not enough
Is a
Lie
Kerry Laureen
The Phoenix on Alchemy
There’s a gift in all adversity;
a moment in which one can choose
to turn the dark to the light
and turn pain to laughter.
This is alchemy -
a heart rising
from the flames
to live
true.
Kerry Laureen
Nightmare
Inky blackness slithers down my spine.
Chuntering laughter fills my ears.
I crouch in a too small space.
His footsteps come nearer…
Go away! Oh, please…
Breathe. Don’t panic.
Go away!
At last!
Dawn!
Kerry Laureen
Blues Over Bosnia
can’t get this nonet to print – the editor keeps saying I’ve already put it up – that it will be a duplicate … will try to find a way around it tomorrow, I guess …
A cello weeps in my church today
Mourning the loss of music here
The sounds of joy depart us
Left to grieve in silence
As war shuts soon our
Doors and kills the
Light, the notes,
All the
Rest(s)
Hurray! Finally got “Blues Over Bosnia” accepted by the nonet editor … it is the apparently untitled one beginning “A cello weeps in my church today” … now, if only I’ve figured the time difference between Italy and Atlanta correctly …
Raising Awareness
A vulture waits and watches a child
So near death a photographer
Cannot resist a quick shot
A prize winning photo
It ends up being
But the guilt of
Its fame kills
He who
won
S.E.Ingraham
Trying to Recollect
Remembering you is not easy
Remembering you is not fun
Remembering you is sad
Remembering you son
Remembering’s bad
Remembering?
Remember?
‘Member?
Meme …
Tree Deaths
Far from home I learn of nightly storms
Tearing life from trees I so love
Just to picture them torn up
With roots exposed and raw
Their branches ripped off—
Bark is cracking
And sap runs
Like blood
Bleeds
S.E.Ingraham©
Slow Start
Pulsing hum of airplane overhead
He, knees to nose, sleeps in a chair
She calls lazily from bed
Hubby rustles in back
Burnt toast smell in air
Sweet tea with cream
Saturday
Morning
Off
Close to the banks of the Ohio
a nightmare ruts, signs enter, and
mermaid friends tide conch and goat
to embrace both bull and
bellow. Surprisingly
stars leave orbit
to join in
the fun
dream
Slumber’s Approach
A clock ticks in the darkened stillness,
Throbbing a strong, lifelike tattoo.
Breathing starts to fall in step
As consciousness retreats
And we march deeper
Into the realm
Of silent,
Pulsing
Dreams.
R. J. Neilson
Words’ Worth
Do I have anything worth saying
When it comes right down to the crunch?
Is the world better off now
Than it was prior to
Pen striking paper,
Or are these just
Completely
Futile
Words?
* R. J. Neilson
Chapel of Vibrational Application, NoNet 8
The Chapel of application
Forged on into the circuit
Of infinite transport,
In the vibration,
It directed
All unseen
Wishes
Forth.
Cynthia Stewart
Cynthia Stewart
Sorry, correction, thanks.
The Kind of Wish, NoNet 9
The kind of wish you wish moves at
Numerical, vibrational speed.
It is codified by this;
A choice, that develops
From your desire -
Purposefully,
To forward it,
Kind or
Not
Softening
You stop more often now to look up,
a tender new development.
Apropos to nothing, you
point out beauty as it
silently stalks us,
notice how the
clouds stretch like
tired
dogs.
Sara Ramsdell
Rush
She loved him, not for a thousand years,
a drop in the tin cup, but the
whole chipped vessel, the sacred
spring tucked deep in the woods.
He loved her back in
a flash, panning
for God, one
soul, mid-
stream.
Sara Ramsdell
Look before you leak
Daddy, have you seen my Postman Pat?
When did you have it last, love pie?
Ten minutes ago – in here.
You mean in the bathtub?
Well, not exactly.
I don’t follow…
STOP! Daddy,
Please don’t
flush.
Honey
Sometimes I let the tree frogs sing loud
enough to drown the hyenas
laughing on the verandah
as I flap at my words
like a baby bear
chasing honey
calling out
hope and
pain.
The Twitcher
A keen nature-watcher my grandpa,
binoculars always at hand,
whatever the weather,
or time of day or night.
Strange, though, how often
they are focussed
on his new
neighbour’s
wife.
Mixed Messages
“Don’t touch me,” she says, gritting her teeth.
“Go away,” her bristling hairs scream.
Hunched shoulders cry, “Leave me be!”
A scowl removes all doubt,
Except one flicker
From fearful eyes
Reflecting
A heart
Torn.
R. J. Neilson
Value
I see the silver strands shimmering
With dewdrops sliding like glass beads
Vastly precious to a child
Despite their worthlessness.
Yes, I see the strands
And wonder how
We measure
Value
Now.
R. J. Neilson
Tale Fires
Fires burn lower and lower and glow,
Warm with stories yet to be told:
Tales of ancient bravery
And treasures now long lost,
Stories of new love
And old desires
Twining through
The world’s
Flame.
R. J. Neilson
Monster, Nonet 6
There’s a Monster on the Loose, as
Many people reported seeing him
On facebook and in person,
He’s got our head into
the noose, tightening,
.(per The Daily Show) –
And he just sits
there watching,
Us to
See?
Cynthia Stewart and Steppenwolf
SUMMER CAMP 1951
Hot dogs and bug-juice – campers’ supper.
It’s someone’s birthday, chocolate cake
for dessert. One little girl
turns seven; so every
camper smears her face
with frosting. Some-
one’s older.
Summer’s
past.
To my love
Don’t you ask me to live without you.
I’m too attached now, like that zit
on my chin that I can’t pop.
Hold me and don’t let go.
Your belly is my
special pillow.
Thank you for
Choosing
me.
Didn’t intend the 2nd line capitalized. Here’s how it should be.
HALFWAY AROUND THE WORLD
Dry as daylight dust-pocked by what once
lived. Dried tears, drought’s dry rain dried blood
remains, her smile unveiled as
she danced, dogs dragged dust. Boots
shiny as razor-
sand. Dried dirt, grit,
his grim grin,
death word-
less.
HALFWAY AROUND THE WORLD
Dry as daylight dust-pocked by what once
Lived. Dried tears, drought’s dry rain dried blood
remains, her smile unveiled as
she danced, dogs dragged dust. Boots
shiny as razor-
sand. Dried dirt, grit,
his grim grin,
death word-
less.
NoNet 5
Clippin, Sippin’ On the Kabizzin’
A luster so fine, skin sittin’
Tan and gold, mistin’ kissin’
Beyond the soul, listenin’
A blisterin’ smile,
World a wisein’
Wisperin’,
Top notch
Blitz.
You keep asking…
Yes! I did it because of the heat
and I have headaches all the time.
It’s more manageable now;
Out the door in a flash.
It’s so practical.
Don’t know why you
make all this
fuss about
hair
messed up… ignore..
You keep asking…
Yes! I did it because of the heat…
…and I have headaches all the time.
It’s more manageable now.
Out the door in a flash.
It’s so practical.
Don’t know why you
make a fuss
about
hair
friendship
we climb aboard enthusiastically
with pocketfuls of affection
good intentions, faith and trust
braving all elements
bidding loneliness
bon voyage and
hoping it
will not
sink
“Liberace’s Libertine Libretto”
Fabulously flamboyantly frilled,
the razzle of my rhinestone glitz
may blind your eyes to my main
accessory, my dear;
but each hue and plume
only serves what
you see from
ear to
ear.
[note: my title is ten syllables
[note 2: a picture of Liberace: http://imunuri.blogspot.com/2012/07/prompt-disco-poem.html ]
Poem
Dressed tightly, exuding attitude,
Poem dances like a prima
ballerina, drawing eyes
through leaps, glides, pirouettes,
freely floating yet
still able to
spin on a
single
pointe.
Sally Valentine
Excellent!
Tearing through the house at record speeds
a brindle blur meets red and white
In flight across the table.
Unable to keep up
I watch in wonder
the bundles of
Basenji
puppy
love.
By Gail Y.
Guilty!
Absolutely, one hundred percent,
No doubt about it, I’m guilty!
Why, just look into my eyes;
It’s all over my face.
I can’t deny it;
Can’t escape, I’m
Guilty of
Loving
You.
(This is actually also from yesterday’s prompt, “plea” but didn’t want to post it twice:)
Love it!
blue weaves patterns curves racing dancing
the moon’s tune of yearning echoes
sand wave and stone cross hatches
drifting in deep deeper
blue, sink into sleep
soft fading notes
blue dreams depth
falling
sleep
An Englishman in Des Moines
You can fill a cup from the faucet
and throw a bag in the saucer
offer me a lemon wedge
and extra half-and-half
you can serve it cold
for all I care…
please just don’t
call it
tea.
lol, so you! Awesome!!!
Tempest
Gusts of hot winds orchestrate the night
demon breath under black velvet
winds foretell the coming storm
while people hide inside
massive weather front
change of weather
gives relief
cooling
rain.
Lightened
They took one breast and then the other,
before cells could scatter like koi
frightened by a sudden frog.
Now the surface is smooth,
the depths are quiet.
Not long until
your body
will be
free.
sad, yet good!
Shadow Walker
Sound slides through shadows softly, breathing
Mystery into night’s dark holes,
Exhaling chill echoes of
Possibilities dire.
Spine tingles anew,
As fear drives hard
On footsteps
Behind
You.
© Claudette J. Young
Nonet Poems
A Voice in the Night
Within us all whispers a soft voice,
Sighing just above inner noise,
Telling us stories so grand
Its words flow to paper.
Witness to others
Of thoughts alone
In night’s dark
Hours, Muse
Speaks.
© Claudette J. Young
PICK OF THE LITTER
The other pups sold for eight hundred,
a thousand. She was bought, returned.
Too bright, too hard. A diamond.
We got her for a prayer,
and now we’re paying.
Oh those trickster-
sparkling eyes.
She’s price-
less.
I am using this poem here and in today’s `plea’ prompt.
Please Make It Stop
Drumbeats out of sync, ta-da-dum,
speed up then drop, like missed stitches,
sweater knit with yawning holes.
Clammy skin heats than cools.
My head pleads, stay calm,
inhale, and hold,
exhale, blow
softly
out.
MAMMOGRAM
A technician situates your breast.
Pressed; pressed harder. “Now hold your breath.”
“Breathe.” Repeat ad nauseum.
“Something looks suspicious.”
Heart stops. Holding breath.
Next, ultrasound.
Biopsy.
Benign.
(Breathe.)
Marie Elena Good
Awesome piece! Good luck!
Fall, In Love
We shared our favorite time of year
Where each turn of the bend ignites
Flamboyant reds and yellows
A welcoming heart(h) glows
Silence is golden
Passion smolders
You and I
Kindle
Love.
Marie Elena Good
AFTERGLOW
As the sun slips beneath the water,
Her afterglow lingers above -
Much to wooing moon’s delight.
And they bask in the glow
Those fleeting moments
They call their own,
As their hearts
Become
One
Marie Elena Good
The following nonet was inspired by a despondent gentleman in a nursing home whose heart/soul/spirit was quickened by hearing the music of his era. If you get a chance, please watch this amazing/endearing ~6-minute video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NKDXuCE7LeQ&feature=share .
Accelerando! Something Stirs!
Though I may be living in my grave,
Though both rhythm and voice are hushed,
I long for a serenade.
Timbre, return to me!
Accelerando!
Quicken my soul
With music -
My heart
Beat.
(I included 9 musical terms in this poem, for good “measure.”)
Marie Elena Good
Oops. Forgot the space after the title. The title is Accelerando! Something Stirs!
9 musical terms in one short poem…you rock!
Knotted Dreams
The smell of your cigar lingered when
you left without goodbye; piled in
the laundry room, your rank clothes
remained. I grabbed a lawn
bag, stuffed it with years
of emptiness,
tied tight my
knotted
dreams.
Hieroglyphics
Night’s hieroglyphics are plain to me
as initials carved on a tree.
Graffiti is history.
History, graffiti.
Stars shine with secrets.
Moons fill to tell.
Then, sunrise
steals my
sight.
Plea to a Sourpuss
Smash a pie in my face, why don’t you?
Key Lime so tart my lips pucker,
with a touch of whipping cream.
Then I can spit on your
words, lick away the
residue, watch
you crumble
like the
crust.
(reposting, with name included)
A cento, as well as a nonet.
The Wine-dark Sea
I must go down to the seas again
I have heard the mermaids singing
Have you built your ship of death?
We will not wander more
And sweep through the deep
The boundless deep
Ding dong bell
God save
Thee
Sails dropt
A soft sea
That silent sea
The sea took pity
Ho! Ho! The breakers roared
Of his bones are coral made
The boy stood on the burning deck
Looking out over the wine-dark sea
William I. Lengeman III
CHANGED
A tanglefoot canyon under skies
as blue as childhood – now I’ve come
again, much older. But where
is the shadow-space that
beckoned beyond scrub-
oak – the magic?
The place I
knew is
gone.
Worries of the world wrangle within
Shaded wood, old broken bridge calms
Fresh blossom-scented breeze cheers
Dragonflies buzz above
Brown, curled leaves twirl by
Gnarled twigs rush past
Cold water
Bare toes
Ahhh!
oops the title is Thinking Place
THE GRAVEYARD SHIFT
vigilant, I wait in the darkness
darkness which endangers my trust
trust that’s too easily cut
cutting hope from my life
life’s hazards are real
real, unto death,
death to grave
graveyard
pleas
2012-07-25
P. Wanken
My apologies!
Please use James T Carter for any posts by ChiMan that may win.
Thank You!
Old friend (written during recent drought)
Oh rain what a delight for you to tap on my window tonight!
Will you sing me to sleep through the night? May I dream
of playing in your puddles and to feel you on my face?
How long has it been since I felt your last embrace?
Stay a while old friend as you are a welcomed
sight and please bring green and cool
breezes by mornings light.
Welcome back old
friend!
You are my light
Your absence has left me in a dark abyss.
I’m as a withered flower choked by the
weeds of my pain to never have
your light, my life source
touch me again.
My love, my
life, you
are my
light.
Waiting
Waiting to feel you in my arms, your body pressed
to mine as I can feel your breath lightly
caressing my lips until ours meet;
and the rush felt from
head to toe at
that moment
to know you
are with
me…
A Mother’s Lament
I lost both of my sons to a war
that I don’t even believe in,
a war fought so far away
in a desert somewhere,
middle of nowhere,
where roadside bombs
detonate
and break
hearts.
Fool for Love
You came, you saw, you conquered my heart,
promised me a lifetime of love
and happiness, promised we’d
always be together.
And I fell for it.
I was a fool
to believe
you loved
me.
Whittling
Hopeful minds gaze, longingly waiting
Hopeful minds gaze longingly, wait
Hopeful minds gaze longingly
Hopeful minds gaze, longing
Hopeful minds gaze long
Hopeful minds gaze
Hopeful minds
Hopeful
Hope
Desperate Inspiration
Do the math, nine plus eight plus seven…
Expression in forty-five beats
Some hope, inspiration
Perhaps a dream purveyed
Wonderful promise
To inspire you
Dang, I am
Out of
Time
A cento, as well as a nonet.
The Wine-dark Sea
I must go down to the seas again
I have heard the mermaids singing
Have you built your ship of death?
We will not wander more
And sweep through the deep
The boundless deep
Ding dong bell
God save
Thee
Sails dropt
A soft sea
That silent sea
The sea took pity
Ho! Ho! The breakers roared
Of his bones are coral made
The boy stood on the burning deck
Looking out over the wine-dark sea
Six impossible things
Remnants of six impossible things
laid out as if for burial:
a winding cloth for sparrows,
echoes without footsteps,
a green elephant
which cannot age,
a baby,
a gush,
blood.
ina Roy-Faderman
NoNet 4
Up papers stacking, files racking,
Poems climbing the autumn wall.
Range beyond the monitor,
Feeding their imaginary.
Phrases. Open idea,
The bar of time
- extends – the arm
Post, tweet, text
Tea.
Tea.
Between
Two and Three
Memory, a
Twice told tale holds
The breaths of the depth,
The depths, the blue-green sea,
Slipping softly between waves
Over the cresting slip that is me.
Okay, I messed up on the last version. This is my do-over, Robert
Dark in the Woods
The black crow descends on dreadful wings,
blocks the sunlight, deadens the air.
No gentle breezes to clear
my tangled webs of thought.
Instead they collect
in still corners.
Dark descends.
Black dog
barks.
This is wonderful, Ina.Love the ending.
Are these addictive or what?
Geometry
Pythagoras gave us all the rules:
the formula works every time.
A squared plus B squared is
C squared. Hypotenuse,
the long sloping side,
connects it all.
One angle
makes it
right.
The Game of….Life?
by Rob Halpin
A character-driven fantasy
populated by flawed heroes
and noble villains trying
to survive in a world
playing a game with
just one simple
rule: you win
or you
die.
I posted this last night, but it seems to have gotten lost in the moderation ether. So I’m reposting, if that’s OK.
PRO SE PER SE
He would have waived his right to counsel
had he not seen those signs in her
of dreams that lead to dead ends;
they marked his own career.
He mapped out a plan:
to get to her
they would lose
toget-
her.
Stephen S. Power
@stephenspower
Ride, Sally, Ride
…Nine… all strapped in, suit airtight, thumbs up.
…Eight… you’re the first, a role model.
…Seven… Challenger, Eighty-three.
…Six… making history.
…Five… all systems go.
…Four… what a thrill!
…Three… hold tight…
…Two… wow…
…One…
(1951-2012)
This is lovely, Bruce. I knew her a little and it’s a real loss
I like to think of her riding to a new adventure now…
Ah, Bruce! A brilliant tribute. Thank you for creating this nonet and sharing here.
SLAVES
Slaves need no irons, whips or cudgels
only the beatings in their minds.
Who can hold them better than
they themselves, believing
they deserve no more
after years of
servitude
trapped like
mice
GEESE
We watched geese fly in “V” formation,
heard honking from in their sky domain
and were awed by their whitemess
against the azure sky
as we ate our lunch
and drank sodas
our bond as
strong in
love
Memory Foam
remembers all the cats that have slept
on your head, threading their claws with
your hair, already too thin,
kneading the reducing
dough of you, your neck
like a drill bit
(turn, turn, turn);
recalls
sweat
and cosmetics you never wash off
because lifting water to face
even as early as dusk
is effort that could cost
you the whole next day;
memory foam
remembers
migraine
nights,
can absorb the heart palpitations
like miniature lawnmowers,
the legs that jerk, kick and squirm,
electrified muscles
that send the wrong
messages
to your
brain;
but a mattress and pillows can’t fight
the foul breath of flat disbelief,
won’t offer more orgasms
or take you to dinner,
and memory foam
lies like lovers
who promise
chicken
soup
yet pour you wine, resist the body’s
nightmares that begin with falling
and end with paralysis;
it has limitations,
only gives back what
it gets from you,
whether it’s
moans or
purrs
By Jen Karetnick
[Question on the rules: can we post poems we wrote for last week's Nonet entry? First two are from that:]
Curvature of Space
So there I stood at the horizon
Where parallel lines meet at last,
And triangles can be made
With three 90 degrees;
Creativity
And logic blend
As on this
Sphere I
Stand.
And Pass The Chocolate Cake
You must tell me what the secret is!
Don’t say ‘diet and exercise,’
Tell me the *secret*! The trick!
The drug that I can take
To take it all off,
A-S-A-P!
I’m tired of
Being
Fat.
Where My Heart Is
The sound of rain on the metal roof
And the clear chimes out my window;
The chickens in the garden,
Clucking in contentment,
And the spring breeze which
Plays the curtains;
And I know
I am
home.
The Last Trip To The Moon
Engines rumble, anticipation.
The countdown has started: ten, nine…
Check all systems, we are green.
Eight, seven, six… last check.
Five… good luck up there;
God keep you. Four,
Three, two… Clear
For launch.
One…
all by Andrea Fleming
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, LOVE
Across from me, the love of my life;
we celebrate year number nine.
Me, wearing a dress for once
and he’s dressed to the nines.
I’ll surprise him with
our gift to each
other . . .in
nine short
months.
2012-07-24
P. Wanken
Risking It All
by Rob Halpin
Unconcerned about his tenuous
position on the precipice
overlooking the valley
far below, the daring
photographer risked
life and limb for
the perfect
shot at
fame.
~Not a “Snow Day” ~
Eight a.m. Still dark. Treading to school
Yellow moons of streetlamps glowing
In the snowy midst. The road
Below my feet glistens
With sparks of silver
My winter boots
Squeak in this
Muffled
Hour
Son vs. Sun
Son came home from camp tomato face
red eyes swollen half-way shut like
shiners after tight fist fights
with the Master Sun, one
undefeated champ-
don’t doubt his strength
because he
always
burns.
When Testosterone Starts Kicking In
He said he couldn’t wait ‘til high school
when he could date, and then he paused
said it didn’t matter if
she was smart or not as
long as she was hot.
I rolled my eyes
said a prayer.
Here it
comes.
oh, no
The Happy Valley
Psychological lobotomies,
using group-think, mass hypnosis,
created temples of doom
in this mountainous place
of happy faces.
Mormon Mecca,
Jell-O love,
mellow
mouths.
Just For One Day
Christmas comes around just once a year
When carols play in every store
And tree lots start to appear
A time to dream and pray
For a better world
A better life
Even for
Just one
Day.
Argument
Door opens and slams with squeak and bang
Clock rhythmically taps out time
Light shines through dust particles
Fly buzzes in next room
Chest rises and falls
Frig softly hums
Silence shouts
Alone
Still
Stuck
A cavalcade of freaks and weirdos;
Meth-heads and potholes populate,
homeless and screaming preachers
stand on every corner.
City of bad news,
Pensacola,
Hell on Earth,
No…way…
out.
Snapdragons
Soft velvet petals of snapdragons
crumble to dust in my fingers.
I add them to your casket,
as per your instructions,
take you to the park
and watch you drift
down river
out of
sight.
Forget-me-not
Life becomes more confusing with age,
but your forgetfulness had grown
to a worrying extent.
The doctor asks your name.
I watch you struggle
to remember –
Alzheimers
looming
fog.
A Mother’s Love
My heart skipped the first time I saw you,
when you smiled at me the sun shone,
when you first grabbed my finger
my heart swelled up wth pride,
I felt anything
was possible.
When you died
my heart
broke.
Sweet Joseph
This soul will not whither like the rose
This heart will not wilt like a rose
More beautiful than a rose
Elegance and wisdom
Will remain in bloom
This heart, this soul
This kindness
It is
you
I promise I’ll Mess Up
I promise I will mess up sometimes
Won’t always make you hang around
I will always have bad days
and will handle them wrong
Can’t be good everyday
Sorry I can’t
I just don’t
work that
Way
Through the Window
Through the window I can see the world
I can see the world as I want
I see beauty in the land
without the ugly rest
Nothing but palm trees
And bright color
Might come true
One day
soon
You
I hold your hand, I hear your voice
I see your eyes, I know your soul
Your heart is pure to us all
I feel your touch, your love
I smell your known scent
On your pillow
I love you
Always
will
I Am Always Here
Take a moment and ignore the world
Forget the news and all the bills
Stop one second, realize
Even though times get rough
And though times are sad
I’m always here
I promise
to you
Still
NoNet3
Their faces young and smooth, flux in two
The next age; angst, rage, kindness,
Having seen so many passing
The hall of wisdom’s gate,
I see in many faces,
The same look of
Simply – now,
Happy/
Sad.
Nonet2
Lit from with in, like a poke-tooth grin
He took it on the chin twice – twin,
Then, a turn and round house kick,
Caught his man in a check,
Flipping and kicking,
Friend went flying,
Quirky smile,
No more,
Bile
No Net1
No net. Nine bet. Lighting a set; Poet,
Of the et tu, wild – yet; Kick it!
Jammin’ with the crowd, ja – et,
Writing, writing, loud, ja
Poets in the yaya,
Clip in, slip in,
Down to the
Final,
Dot.
Such fun!
Hurricane in the Woods
The black crow, beating its dreadful wings,
blocks the sunlight, deadens the air.
No gentle breezes to clear
my tangled webs of thought.
Instead they linger
in still corners.
Dark descends.
Black dog
barks.
ina Roy-Faderman
Rodeo
The Wild West lives on in Rodeo
Cowboys and cowgirls astride their
Colts and fillies, broncs and bulls
Hold on for eight seconds
or round the barrels
rope and tie ‘em
Blue ribbon
to win
Cash
R. A. Shipman
Texas Hold-em
I held Ace King and had the button
The flop came seven, deuce and King
The turn helped me with an Ace
The River did the same
Two bets before me
I took my time
and then said
I’m all
In
R. A. Shipman
Countdown
Nine is a perfect square, three-by-three,
eight is octagons and spiders,
seven is lucky – really?
six is half a dozen,
five, fingers on hands,
four seasons, squares,
three’s a crowd,
two’s love,
one.
Reposting the one I wrote last week, but maybe I’ll try some new ones too.
Heat Wave
Ninety-eight degrees, a heat index
of one-oh-five, the sky blue-gray
and heavy. Everyone moves
through gelatin air, mid-
afternoon, heading
off to something
cool: AC,
ice cream,
pool.
Age
There once was a day long before now
When my breath came much easier
My step outpaced most others
My mind thought grander things
My fervor was most
Satisfying
But now I’m
Slowing
Down
R. A. Shipman
PRO SE PER SE
He would have waived his right to counsel
had he not seen those signs in her
of dreams that lead to dead ends;
they marked his own career.
He mapped out a plan:
to get to her
they would lose
toget-
her.
OLD MELODIES
I wander throught the meadow and woods
the sound of the wind in the trees
whispering above my head
replays old melodies,
and soft lullabies
to remind me
of lost days
and past
love.
THE CALL OF THE SEA
Morning sun rises to blazing sky
that holds no trace of wind or rain
to mar the deepness of blue
and birds wing their way up,
as gentle waves lap
over the sand,
beckening
me to
you.
“Reel of Life”
Don’t bring to surface the longings that
Lie dormant and still in the depth
Of my soul. Do not unwind
My life. For if you do,
You’ll find me kneeling,
Praying in vain
For a chance
To go
Back.
Do
Not take
Away my
Resolution
To look ahead and
Contemplate the broad, crisp
Horizons. Do not disturb
The reel of my life. I don’t wish
To make a spectacle of myself.
Alexandra Palmer
“Resolution”
At the crossroads of a new year, I –
A Russian fairy tale warrior,
Eager to choose a pathway –
Despise the stone warnings,
“Turn right…be happy,
Left…lose your horse,
Go straight…die…”
Here I
Go.
Alexandra Palmer
“Golden Glows”
A glowing ball of flames floats pouring
Myriads of rays onto Earth
The dark soil breaths them in, shoots
Them back up. They burst through
Set alight my sky –
The yellow suns
Outside my
Window
Pane.
Alexandra Palmer
You said “as many as you like”, so I’m going to post several, I’m afraid
“Nostalgia”
I fly, below me the Earth rotates,
Another year away from home,
Someone’s luck is my trouble,
United States – my land,
Stranger things happen.
The game is on,
“Go, purple!”
Do not
Lag.
Alexandra Palmer
Ghosts in Blue Bottles
Living our lives, ghosts in blue bottles.
We feel, think, desire, unable.
Cry, strive, search, deceive ourselves,
We dance. Freedom, freedom
From these cursed bottles!
Look for relief,
Living souls,
Bottles.
Blue…
by Bettie Herren
Sorry, forgot the name. I’m new at this.
Ghosts in Blue Bottles
Living our lives, ghosts in blue bottles.
We feel, think, desire, unable.
Cry, strive, search, deceive ourselves,
We dance. Freedom, freedom
From these cursed bottles!
Look for relief,
Living souls,
Bottles.
Blue…
my nonet
form following function – forty-five
intimate syllables having
their inexorable way
with you, leading to only
one conclusion – the
coming climax
was always
about
now
Steve Lavigne
*Corrected*
Charades
An enigma of déjà vu, your
dervish reenactments reflect
distress, romanticize
times I poured pure poison
down my throat, unveiled
evil within.
Screwdriver,
I hate
you.
Charades
An enigma of déjà vu, your
dervish reenactments reflect
distress, romanticizes
times I poured pure poison
down my throat, unveiled
evil within.
Screwdriver,
I hate
you.
Holding On
A dream lingers a strident voice calls
My blood pumps erratically
A signal of old distress
A sign of no progress
I hold on to pain
Let it swirl and
circulate
through my
soul.
Michael Drum
A dream lingers a strident voice calls
Holding On
My blood pumps erratically
A signal of old distress
A sign of no progress
I hold on to pain
Let it swirl and
circulate
through my
soul.
Michael Drum
I’m told one should not build pyramids
Upside down, or upside-down cakes
Right side up; one should not make
Castles of shanties, or
Oceans of puddles.
There’s too many
“Should nots,” not
Enough
“Do.”
Summer Tease
Erotic melancholy golden dream
Rosy laughter lifting cover
Grasses spray molten seed heads
Pale pollen powders fly
fling dust and swing
Feel the stray breeze
blowing bees
dancing
tease
Gestation
Poised between bunnies and elephants,
we mark time in months, then weeks,
then days, as nine months’ magic
summons a miracle,
embryo, fetus,
grows into child.
Womb empty,
our hearts
full.
(Is it fair game to move mine over from the other day?)
You are by no means the first or the last to repost from an earlier offering else-were.
Nine Ladies Dancing
Spare yourself the alliteration.
While the maids milk and the lords leap,
We’ll keep doing what we do.
The swans won’t distract us,
gold rings won’t dazzle.
Leave birds in trees.
On our toes,
we shall
dance!
Playing it Cool
A deep cooling breath to chill my blood
Trying to ignore the desire
Dancing in your wanton eyes,
Praying that my cold front
Lingers, but your touch
Sets ice on fire,
Betraying
My own
Heart.
I’m Hungry, Momma
The noisy, smoke filled casino lures,
“Come hide your pain.” She plays to win,
but her loss is on the screen.
“It’s just about to hit.
Feed another buck.”
I watch her stash
slowly starve.
We all
lose.
Where’s the boy who promised me the world,
the earth, the sky, and all his love?
Nothing here belongs to me,
not the house, not the dog,
nor the car I drive,
not even you.
Will you care
that I’m
gone?
By Gail Y.
Potpourri
Persephone clutches lavender
sprigs between pale fingers, crushing
fragrant blooms to release rays
of summer scents that glow
beneath the frozen
earth while she waits
in shadows
for the
thaw.
Homeless struggle after torrent floods
Unnerved by a dripping faucet
Raindrops on a withered leaf
Tears from a troubled cheek
Spray of rainbow mist
Warming shower
Smooth ripples
Water
Falls
Title: Waterfalls
Fantasy shatters reality
Such sadness from twisted madness
Wicked end of innocence
Full armor past midnight
The Dark Knight Rises
Colorado
Aurora
Then twelve
Gone
Sorry forgot titles: Heroes and Villains
Translate?
“Be obscure clearly.” ~E.B. White
Remember: obfuscate and complicate
as clearly as you can actuate.
You be the one to conflagrate.
It’s time: circumnavigate
your points, then lie in wait
for ‘fish’ to take bait,
‘round facts you skate
(figure eight.)
Then state,
“Fait.”
###
New Life
Leaving the sanctuary within,
a brave life’s journey she awaits,
longing to first glimpse day’s light,
to bask in the gaze of
a woman longing
to cradle her
in mother’s
loving
arms.
by Christine Woolley
Sorry – expounding on my bit of fun…
One Line
Three lines for the Haiku’s Queen of old,
seven for the Septet Lords gold.
Nine for men’s last Nonet doom,
one for the dark lord’s room.
In the shadows lie
one line to rule
and bring them
where I
lie.
Please excuse my bit of fun…
Lord of the Lines
Three lines is common in a Haiku –
Seven lines? A lovely Septet -
Nine lines make up the Nonet –
One line lies in the dark
to torment and tease,
to rule and in
the darkness
to bind
you.
My profuse apologies – I mistyped.
xxx
‘Free’
Letting go the echoes of the past
Dropping what we grasp here and now,
Not shaken from now’s stillness;
Here, at last, we can be.
All there is is now:
This the secret,
Of being,
Always,
Free
xxx
I feel a terrific idiot.
‘Free’
Letting go the echoes of the past
Dropping what we grasp here, now,
Not shaken from now’s stillness;
Here, at last, we can be.
All there is is now:
This the secret,
Of being
Free
The Ring
Life can take unexpected flips and
turns when we least desire or need -
but once in a while those flips
can bring unparalleled
happiness, like when
you asked me to
marry you –
I said
yes.
Blindsided
I was so madly in love with you,
when you left me for someone else
I felt like I was locked in
a metal incased box, tossed
by giants in a mud
soaked field and left
with tattered,
tear shaped
dreams.
Trap
“A waffle is like a pancake with a syrup trap.” ~Mitch Hedberg
When you pour syrup on your pancakes, it
attempts to escape them at the first
opportunity. With waffles?
Not so much. There is a grid
built into waffles which
acts like a speed-trap
and syrup jail.
Breakfast, you
have been
served.
###
Public Speaking
Nine poets speaking out for the first time
and even though they had rehearsed
each and every stanza, a
few words stepped out of line –
Exhaling panic,
they moved on in
poetic,
perfect
stride.
Do You Dare?
Do you dare to love me as I should
be loved? As I want to be loved?
Can you risk everything for
me? Do you really want
to? I hope that this
is no mistake.
This love is
far too
strong.
Simple as Night and Day
“A day without sunshine is like, you know, night.” ~Steve Martin
O how do I love thee, oh sunny day?
Most poets have pondered this question
in their struggle to find the words
to explain the yellow-warm
of a spring or summer
day. But it’s simple:
when the sun is
not above
it is
night.
###
Ten green Bottles
As each one was placed on the wall
the game began none did fall
the voices came they did
call come and play
watch them roll all
singing
ten green bottles
hanging on a
wall
Dancing Stations
Leaning over the top to see the crowd
hands waving back at me so proud
Holding breath heart stopped
Their teary eyes did hop
Placing warmth together again
times past by
speech
family reunited
again.
By Bernie Jenkins
Wolves
Be careful, there are wolves in the world
dining on the innocent lambs
and howling at the full moon.
Big bad wolves do evil
with no regard for
consequences
or the harm
that they
cause.
By Michael Grove
Their Greatest Desire
Although it was their greatest desire
to walk hand-in-hand forever,
he went on ahead of her
and prepared a special
place where both of them
would always be
together
for all
time.
By Michael Grove