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Found 16 results

  1. RHommel

    Haiku Fridays

    Haiku Fridays So, every Friday on Facebook... a growing number of my real life friends are participating in what one of them has deemed "Haiku Fridays". They are nothing like actual haiku, except that they have the correct syllable count in English. I'm going to start doing this with them... here is the latest from one of my friends. ------------- haikus are easy but sometimes they don't make sense refrigerator ~Robyne Aument -------------- I love my silly, goofy friends. They make life worth living!! ~Rachel
  2. Tinker

    Hail to the Sun!

    Hail the Sun! I raise my cup of coffee high, an early toast to things I spy. The atmospheric river spent, torrential rains have come and went. There's no more need to wail and whine I'm getting drunk on sunrise shine The orb appears with great pizzazz a welcome treat, I hum smooth jazz to wake my day with cheeky joy and hope the weather won't be coy. May a warmer, dryer, week be mine, I'm getting drunk on sunrise shine. Judi Van Gorder Verse Form: A Stave, a Scottish drinking song.
  3. Tinker

    October Morning

    October Reflection It should have burned off by now, the morning fog stretches past noon. A heavy, damp coverlet, chills the earth and slakes the thirst of a last green leaf before its full emmersion into Autumn's withering fall. The wet ground already covered with corpses of Spring's foilage, in orange, red and gold. They've let go of past worries and sleep in full glory.. Another cycle of life passing through, and I too shed the past and look forward to a rest before beginning all over again. ~~Judi Van Gorder
  4. Tinker

    Morning Poems

    I seem to write in the mornings a lot. I also seem to seem to write about my morning a lot. Here was some thing I saw right outside my bedroom window this morning while sitting in bed setting up my journal/To Do / daily planner Morning Jay A Jay lands lightly on a bobbing redwood bough, rests a bit then bounds away into the morning sky. Its mohawk crown and royal hued wings project his persistence and fearlessness. My charge for the day. ~~jvg
  5. Tinker

    Fulfilled

    FulfilledFill your lungs with the morning's perfume.vitalized by each breath you consume.Choose to forge forward into the day,prepared to deal with whatever may.Expect to find joy in the oddest places,even when presented with frowning faces.This earth of ours is always giving,so indulge yourself in the art of living. ~~Judi Van Gorder"Life itself is the proper binge." - Julia Child
  6. Tinker

    Weekly Poem Challenge

    Here you will find various prompts to hopefully jumpstart your poetic fingers into writing. Try for daily writing time, but even a weekly poem is better than nothing at all Setting up a regular routine for writing can result in a lot of poems written on the fly, often without fine tuning. But it also can spark the beginnings of a new poem that can be honed later. What the challenge does is, it inspires writing. Any one can jump in when and if the prompt moves them. If you are so inspired go ahead and share your prompted poem in the thread and identify which prompt you followed. Of if it turns out a winner maybe share it in Member's Poetry where it will be commented on. I will do my best to add the prompts and forms here in this thread in case someone here could benefit from a little nudge. Don't expect me to be punctual with the prompts No judges here, just nudges. ~~Tink
  7. Tinker

    Pantoum

    Explore the Craft of Writing Poetry French Verse The Pantoum is a "slinky going down a flight of stairs--it is smooth, fluid, and repetitious....Its repetition and circular quality give it a mystical chant-like feeling. Its cut-up lines break down linear thought. The form is both ancient and fresh." Miriam Sagan, The Unbroken Line. I just couldn't come up with a better way to say that. This stanzaic form was introduced by Ernest Fouinet and made popular by Victor Hugo in 19th century France as a variation of the Malaysian Pantun, a folk fishing song. The rhythm of the verse attempted to emulate the rhythm of the oars of the fishermen rowing out in unison. The Pantoum imitates its Malaysian inspiration only in the use of the quatrain and rhyme scheme. From that point it is more similar to the French Rondeau and/or the Villanelle than the Southeast Asian form. Because of the repetition of lines the Pantoum requires that the lines are complete. The poem moves back and forth which is more conducive to lyrical verse than a narrative. The repetitive pattern of lines is the defining feature of the form. The elements of the Pantoum are: accentual syllabic verse, most commonly iambic tetrameter or iambic pentameter, but the number of metric feet is unimportant as long as the lines are all the same length. stanzaic, written in any number of quatrains. repetitious. All lines of the poem will be repeated once. L2 and L4 of each stanza is repeated as L1 and L3 of the succeeding stanza. L1 and L3 of the 1st stanza is repeated in reverse as L2 and L4 of the last stanza ending the poem on the same line as it began. (It is permissible, but less common, to use the L1 and L3 of the 1st quatrain in the same order as originally written to end the poem with L3 of the 1st quatrain.) usually rhymed, the Pantoum employs alternate rhyme with a rhyme scheme of A¹ B¹A²B² B¹C1B²C² C¹D¹C²D² D¹E¹D²E² . . . . . and so on until the last quatrain H¹A²H²A¹. flexible, a variation on the Pantoum is to substitute a rhyming couplet of L1 and L3 from the 1st quatrain to end the poem instead of ending in a quatrain. In the Sultan's Garden by Clinton Scollard (1860-1932) She opened the portal of the palace, she stole into the garden's gloom; From every spotless snowy chalice The lilies breathed a sweet perfume. She stole into the garden's gloom, She thought that no one would discover; The lilies breathed a sweet perfume, She swiftly ran to meet her lover. She thought that no one would discover, But footsteps followed ever near; She swiftly ran to meet her lover Beside the fountain crystal clear. But footsteps followed ever near; Ah, who is that she sees before her Beside the fountain crystal clear? 'Tis not her hazel-eyed adorer. Ah, who is that she sees before her, His hand upon his scimitar? 'Tis not her hazel-eyed adorer, It is her lord of Candahar! His hand upon his scimitar, Alas, what brought such dread disaster! It is her lord of Candahar, The fierce Sultan, her lord and master. Alas, what brought such dread disaster! "Your pretty lover's dead!" he cries The fierce Sultan, her lord and master. "'Neath yonder tree his body lies." "Your pretty lover's dead!" he cries (A sudden, ringing voice behind him); "'Neath yonder tree his body lies" "Die, lying dog! go thou and find him!" A sudden, ringing voice behind him, A deadly blow, a moan of hate, "Die, lying dog! go thou and find him! Come, love, our steeds are at the gate!" A deadly blow, a moan of hate, His blood ran red as wine in chalice; "Come, love, our steeds are at the gate!" She oped the portal of the palace. The Wanderer's Return by Judi Van Gorder With song and adventure from far away, all our years you have wandered about, "How could you let him go?" they say, "for jobs and dreams and another route." All our years you have wandered about, when foreign shores sing to your heart, in jobs and dreams and another route, those distant lands can't keep us apart. When foreign shores sing to your heart, your spirit is the wind, wild and free. those distant lands can't keep us apart, I'm rooted and strong like our redwood tree. Your spirit is the wind, wild and free, yet in spring you travel home to me, I'm rooted and strong like our redwood tree where love is renewed, it's once again we, It's in spring you travel home to me, "how could you let him go?" they say, when love is renewed, it's once again we with song and adventure from far away. Aloha, Hello-Goodbye by Judi Van Gorder Seamrog by Judi Van Gorder Today 's a day for wearing green, St. Paddy, himself, would smile, agree. The shamrock 's worn, a token seen to teach about the Holy Three. St. Paddy, himself, would smile, agree, a slave with hope he grasped a star, to teach about the Holy Three, with faith his mission traveled far. A slave with hope he grasped a star and chased the serpents from the land, with faith his mission traveled far, in charity he took a stand. He chased the serpents from the land and now his message still is heard, in charity he took a stand, an act of love to share the Word, And now his message still is heard, the shamrock 's worn, a token seen an act of love to share the Word. Today 's, a day for wearing green. Seamrog, (Gaelic) shamrock Lá Fhéile Pádraig Sona Daoibh Happy St Patrick's Day
  8. Tinker

    Saturday Morning

    Saturday Sleeping In I slide from the warmth of my bed, hardwood cold under foot, and tie back the seafoam curtains to welcome the morning light. Remnants of winter linger outside, Patches of snow tap down the promise of Spring. Branches, still bare, wait for a warmer day. Looks like my neighbors slept in too. Downstairs, I make myself a cup of coffee then return. I look at my lone bed stand and brush my hand across your untouched space reminders that you are gone from me forever. I climb under my still warm, soft grey comforter and prop my pillow to read in the quiet calm. ~ ~ Judi Van Gorder Prompt: Write a poem of perception using the details from this picture. Saturday Morning Sleeping In
  9. Tinker

    Warning

    Warning A high pitched, steady, beep - beep - beep and the guttural growl of a grinding engine greeted my morning garden stroll. My view of the road blocked by flowering potato vines, I couldn't see the monster as it inched down our country road. I don't know what or why it chose to invade the post-dawn peace but gratefully, the tocsin sounds soon faded and only the welcoming tweets of small birds graced my space once more. ~~ Judi Van Gorder Notes: ▼
  10. Tinker

    Feed the Hungry

    Feed the Hungry They wait patiently in line to later dine, so they stand. Tuesday morning in my town means brown paper bags with canned foods and local farmer's fare, caring turns a helping hand. ~~Judi Van Gorder Notes: ▼
  11. Tinker

    Stretching It Out

    Stretching It OutThe subliminal stain of pain,reminder of stage, space and strain,returns again each morning,it's fetched and stretched and for awhiletells of life lived, a chosen style with fragile thread, a warning.Though my body, once quick and strong,with time has mellowed, not so wrong.My dance song, a playful tune, is slowed but rings of all good things and challenges that bring me wings.Still, stings from age come too soon. ~~Judi Van Gorder Notes: ▼ Verse Form: Cywydd Llosgyrnog
  12. Tinker

    Wednesday Walk

    Today, Wednesday, April 3, 2019 is International Walking Day. I wrote this poem to open my blog today, but just incase you don't check out the Blogs, I'm also posting it here. Wednesday Walk The trail is wet from yesterday's rain. The earth soft under my Sneaks. I place one foot after another and will myself on. I will repeat this, I will honor this substance, I will write of this, I will apply this to all things, I will. ~~Judi Van Gorder
  13. Tinker

    Sunday morning thoughts

    Not every poem has to be great poetry. ~~jvg #1 Coffee, hot and sweet, begins my day. The strong liquid wakens my mind. #2 How fast the kitten is growing up. She has doubled in size, too soon. #3 Sunday, day of rest and I need it. I'll pray from home today, Thanks Lord. #4 Ocean fog creeps in, cools summer heat. The damp chill is welcome. Calming. #5 Silence surrounds me. Even the birds keep their songs within them, at peace. ~~jvg Cinqku
  14. Tinker

    Through the Mist

    Through the Mist The gray dawn yawns without the sun in sight, the autumn sky shifts with a misty cobweb of fog. Through the wet film the tree’s green takes on a dusty shade without reflection, just a tinge of its former self dares intrude. A clammy chill lies on my skin spreading cold up to the base of my neck, like a screech too shrill. Mornings like these I want to crawl back to my cocoon, that warm spot buried deep beneath our downy quilt and dream of you beside me on a summer afternoon. --- Judi Van Gorder
  15. Tinker

    Morning Brew

    Here is a bit of fluff for the morning.... Morning Brew Breathe in the heady aroma of coffee brewing. Pour, then grasp the hot mug, warming palms to heart and peer into the dark, steaming, pool to find the entrance to the day. Slowly savor the smooth, bittersweet of the full bodied liquid, and feel the burn while it slides down the throat. Ahhh...... Good morning. . . Judi Van Gorder
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