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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.

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

Snarling Cup of Coffee I like to start my day with a hot cup of coffee I pound down the coffee First thing I do every day as the dawning sun Lights up my lonesome room Yeah, but not just a simple cup of java Joe, but a God damn snarling sarcastic smarmy cup of coffee I mean, - we are talking about an alcoholic, all speed ahead, always hot, always fresh, always there when I need it, angry, attitude talk to the hand Ztude, bad, bad assed, beats breaking, beatnik, bluesy, bitter, bitchy, bombs away, capitalistic, caffeinated up the ass, cinematic, communistic, Colombian grown, Costa Rican inspired, Cowabunga to the max, crazy assed, devilishly angelic, divine, divinely inspired, dyslexic, epic, extreme vetting, evil eye, expensive, erotic vision inducing, Ethiopian coffee house brewed, euphoric, freaky, freazoid, foxy, Frenched kissed, French brewed, funkified, foxy lady, graphic, GOD in my coffee, with Allah, Ganesh, Jesus, Kali, Buddha, Christians, Durga, Hindus, Mohamed, Jesus and Mo and their friend, the cosmic bar maid, Sai Babai, Shiva, Taoists, Zoroastrians, drinking my god damned coffee in Hell; growling, gnarly, happy, hard as ice, Hawaian blessed, high as a kite, hippie, hip, hipster, hip hoppy, hot as hell yet strangely sweet as heaven, jazzy, jealous, Kerouac approved, kick ass, kick my god damn ass to Tuesday, kick down the doors and take no prisoners, grown in the Vietnam highlands by exVietcong, Guatemalan grown, kiss ass, illegal in every state, imported from all over the god damn world, insane, lovely, loony, lonely, lonesome, malodorous mean old rotten, motherfucking, nasty, narcotic, never whatever, never meh, never cold, not approved by the CIA, not approved by DHS, not approved for human consumption by the FDA, not your daddy’s sissified corporate cup of coffee, NOT DECAFE coffee, not your Denny’s truck driver weak as brown water cup of fake coffee, not your establishment friendly cup of coffee, Not your FBI coffee, Not FAKE Herbal coffee substitute, but a real cup of coffee, not your farmer brothers dinner crap, not made in America for Americans, not safe for work, not your Starbucks average expensive overpriced crappy corporate chain cup of coffee, Not pretentious, Not White House approved, not State Department safe, nuclear, Not Patriotic, operatic, Peets’s coffee approved, paranoid, pornographic, psychotic, pontific, politically aware, rapping, rhyming, right here, right now in River city, rock and roll up the Yazoo, sad, sadistic, sarcastic, sassy, satanic, schizoid, shitting, silly, sexy, smarmy, smelly, smooth, snarky, snarling, stupid, stinking, sweet as honey, sweat inducing, symphonic, Trump can’t handle this coffee, vengeful, Wagnerian, wicked, with nutmeg and cinnamon swirls, with a hint of stevia, with a hint of vanilla, with a hint of rum, with a hint of whisky, with a hint of cherry, with a hint of fruit overtones, with a hint of drugs spicing up the coffee, spendific, speeding, splendid, superior accept no substitutes, survived the Vietnam war, the Iraq war, the Afghan war, the first and Second Korean war, World War 11, the war on poverty, the war on drugs, the war on black people, the sexual revolution, Soulful as a summer’s night in MOTOWN- James Brown approved, TOP approved, Berkeley approved, the coffee that Jimmy Hendrix drank before he died, the coffee that Elvis drank on his last breakfast, the coffee that Barry White crooned as he drank his cup of coffee – and the coffee that made the white boy play stand up and play that funky music, the coffee that made Jonny B Goode play his guitar, and made Jonny bet the devil his soul after he drank his morning cup of righteous coffee and the coffee that make the Rolling Stones Rock and Roll, the coffee your mother warned you against drinking, the coffee that Napoleon drank when he became the Emperor of all Europe, the Coffee that Beethoven drank when he wrote the Ninth symphony, the coffee that Mozart drank as he wrote his last symphony, the coffee that Lincoln drank before he was killed, the Hemingway drank before he killed himself, the coffee that started the 60’s, and ended the 20th century, the coffee that Lenin drank as he plotted revolution, the coffee that Hitler and Stalin drank with FDR as they divided up the world after World War 11, the cup that JFK drank before he was blown away, the coffee Jerry drinks while driving in cars with random celebrities and political figures, the coffee that Jon Stewart drinks before he goes on an epic take down of some foolish politico, the cup of Arabic coffee that Sadaam drank the day he was executed, the coffee that GW and Cheney drank when they bombed Baghdad, the Indian cup of coffee that Bid Laden drank before 9-11 and just before the seals blew his ass to hell, the cup of coffee that Tiger Woods drank with his mistresses while playing a 3, 000 dollar round of golf at Sandy Lane golf course in Barbados, the last legal drug that does what drugs should do, the cup of coffee that Obama drank when he became President, Vietnamese, Vienna brew, wacky, whimsical, Whisky Tango Foxtrot, wild, weird, wonderful, WOW, Yabba dabba doo! Yada Yada yada Zappa’s favorite cup of cosmic coffee, and Zorro’s last cup of coffee, Good to the last drop rolled into one simple cup of hot coffee As I pound down that first cup of coffee And fire up my synaptic nerve endings with endless supplies Of caffeine induced neuron enhancing chemicals I face the dawning day with trepidation and mind-numbing fear I turn on the TV and watch the smarmy newscasters in their perfect hair Lying through their perfect blazing white teeth about the great success the government is having Following the great leader's latest pronouncements I want to scream and shoot the TV and run out side Shouting Stop the world! I want to get off this fucking crazy planet" The earth does not care a whit about my attitude problem It merely shrugs and moves around the Sun In its appointed daily run the universe whispers in my ear time to drink more coffee for an attitude adjustment And I sit down The madness dissipating a bit And enjoy my second cup Of heaven and hell In my morning cup of Joe Coffee Revolutions coffee cup Coffee led to the American Revolution<span As patriots drank coffee To rebel against the aristocratic English tea Coffee started the London Stock Market And started the gossip mills running Every great invention Was fed by coffee's sweet brew sweet allure All the great thinkers All the great leaders All were enslaved to coffee's magic I sing my praises Of the great glorious coffee lady Long may she continue To be my sweet companion Long may coffee continue To rule my heart And set my heart on fire Ode to Coffee Mistress of sacred love Sacred lady of desire You start my day Setting my heart on fire With your dark delicious brew And throughout the day Whenever the mean old blues come by You chase them away With your bittersweet ambrosial brew Every time I inhale your witch's brew I am filled with power, light and love And everything is al right Jack If only for a few fleeting minutes I love you oh coffee goddess In all your magical forms In the dark coffee of the dawning day In the sizzling coffee in the mid morning break In the afternoon siesta break And in the post dinner desert drink I love you my coffee mistress You are my refuge From this horrid world And you are my secret lover Never disappoint me, ever I've never had a bad cup Of that I can be sure Even the dismal coffee Served at Denny's at 3 am Is still sweet loving coffee Even the farmer brother's diner coffee Excites me and gets me going Asking for another cup of divine delight Coffee always is there It is always on and piping hot With hidden dark secrets Swirling in its liquid essence Coffee is my last vice My only legal vice left Coffee does not cheat on me It is always faithful, always true It does not turn on its friends And all it asks in return Is that you come back Cup after cup after cup A good cup of coffee Is a little bit of heaven In a cup of dark liquid hell Coffee is like a drug But a good drug that does what is should And never complains It does not get grouchy It does not hurt you It does not make you crazy But allows the muse to come out And play with it Coffee led to the American Revolution As patriots drank coffee To rebel against the aristocratic English tea Coffee started the London Stock market And started the gossips mills running Every great invention Was fed by coffee's sweet brew sweet allure All the great thinkers All the great leaders All were enslaved to coffee's magic Yeah I sing my praises Of the great glorious coffee lady Long may she continue To be my sweat companion Long may coffee continue To rule my heart And set my heart on fire I love thee Mistress coffee And sometimes I think You love me too No More Coffee Blues I love coffee Always have And coffee has loved me back But lately I have soured on her Soured on the whole coffee scene On the harshness of the morning brew And the promises it makes As I sip of its nectar Drawn into its lair Drinking drop by drop As the caffeine takes over Rewriting my every nerve Turning me into a slave For its perverted pleasure Yes I love coffee But I am afraid Coffee is a harsh mistress Demanding so much of me Promising the sun And delivering the moon As I drink her swill Deepening under her influence I have the coffee blues Can’t live without her Can’t live with her I try But tea does not cut it Not really Booze does not do it At least not in the morning Yoga is not enough of a buzz Nor is the runner’s high And I am afraid deadly afraid of cocaine And speed and drugs and energy drinks And so I remain a slave to coffee My only legal drug As I sip another and fall under her seductive spread Once more failing my resolve To skip coffee for that day That morning that moment I shall never be free of her spell Ever and she knows it As she beckons me Every morning with her intoxicating smell And I come to her and drink her brew And become her slave again and again Coffee Ya Du must drink coffee have every day the morning dawns drinking my coffee as I yawn Morning cup of coffee every morning I drink my coffee as I contemplate the dawning day watching the news anchors blather on and on drinking my coffee thinking of life and my coffee consumes me overwhelms me and at time controls me after all coffee is a drug and I am her slave from time to time Drinking Coffee in the Morning in the morning dangerous mood felling deranged watching the news trigger warning you are screwed dude end of the world the end times come I drink coffee in the morning Coffee Pot Killed His wife has banned my use by my owner says he makes too much of a mess when he uses me it is not his fault I want to say but being a coffee pot can not speak and so I am abandoned thrown out into the trash and feel very sad for my owner who was my friend he liked me he keep me going and I did my job providing him with fresh coffee doing my coffee pot duty and now it is over Drinking My Coffee drinking coffee drinking my coffee early in the cool morning thinking life is fine everything will be okay after I drink my coffee morning coffee morning coffee dawning sun coffee MGur Poem coffee I pray to the coffee gods every cup of coffee is like a sacrament to me I pray as I drink my coffee that it will fill me with wisdom and find peace with my coffee as I drink my devotion Hot coffee cup of coffee take coffee with you Hot hot coffee, makes my day - Must drink My daily coffee, as the morning dawns - With out my morning coffee in me, I feel nothing at all - Electrified Hot Coffee coffee is the drug of choice nothing else will do it as I drink coffee Electrified Hot Coffee Hot Coffee and Cake coffee coffee is the drug of choice electrified circuits as I drink coffee coffee and cake Coffee Patina coffee hot coffee hot Hellish Heaven Essence of coffee the rest of the coffee poems can be found on my web page Https://theworldaccordingtocosmos.com

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

broken red flower pot more kitty mischief ~~jvg books on a shelf lifeless until read ~~jvg aroma of coffee brewing morning's silent alarm ~~jvg

Seeing Ghosts I walk around the streets Of old Saigon Seeing sensing the undead The ghosts of the war That haunted life So many years ago So many people died For a war That never should have been fought For reasons that are still not clear A great tragedy unfolded In a land half away Around the world The ghosts smile at me And then they disappear Leaving me in the present Life goes on Old Ghosts Old ghosts wandering the streets of old Saigon Lost spirits of the dead Died during the endless wars Ghostly apparitions around every corner Here was Kilroy and his gang of soldiers Over there were the Viet Cong Waiting to kill them Saigon is filled with memories like that Terrible times were had here in Old Saigon Silently the ghosts parade the city streets As the tourists drink in the bars Mastering the Saigon Shuffle When I first visited Saigon Learning the Saigon Shuffle Was difficult And now 24 years later It all seems to be coming back There is an art to crossing the street Dodging the motorcyclists, the taxis, the private cars The bikes and other pedestrians and the buses The art consists of letting the big guys go first Then walk between the motorcycles and cyclists Trusting that they will get out of your way And they being masters of the Saigon shuffle Always find a way In my two visits I was struck By how it all flows together Without a central authority And with almost no planning Lights or cops Somehow it just is And somehow it works And it is still a mystery to me 24 years after first Encountering the Saigon shuffle Coffee Lady Every morning I have gone out for Vietnamese coffee At a sidewalk café Down the ally from our AIRBNB The owner is a pleasant middle age woman Who for some reason likes us She smiles at us Greets us in Vietnamese She does not understand English Or Korean And I wonder why Why was there this connection Between us It dawned on me Perhaps in a prior life She knew an American or two And I remind her of someone Or perhaps she is found Of Korean K drama And Angela reminds her Of her favorite K Drama star Or perhaps it is both Or another reason entirely But I moved today And will miss her Might go back for a final cup Of coffee To say good bye To my Vietnamese coffee lady Old Lady in the Alley There is an old Vietnamese lady In the neighborhood Obviously senile But everyone knows her And watches over her To make sure She stays out of traffic And out of trouble She talks to everyone But no one seems to understand What she is babbling on about They smile at her And she smiles back And she for some reason She likes us And like my Vietnamese Coffee lady I wonder why Why was there this connection Between us It dawned on me Perhaps in a prior life She knew an American or two And I remind her of someone Or perhaps she is found Of Korean K drama And Angela reminds her Of her favorite K Drama star Or perhaps it is both Or another reason entirely But in any event I look forward To seeing her smiling face Every time I walk Down my ally way Avoiding the War Due to Two Birthdays I avoided being drafted Due to a fluke in my birth certificate In 1974 the last draft was held And some people were drafted But no one went to Vietnam The war was ending by then I avoided the draft though To no effort on my own My number came up on the draft list My real birthday was in the zone But then my mother pointed out That my legal birthday was different When I was born at 4 am The night clerk typed up My birth certificate With the wrong date My father pointed that out She said Once I typed it That is it His birthday will be What I typed Get use to it My father gave up And so, 18 years later That saved me From the last draft Never made it to Vietnam Many years latter I visited Vietnam Right after we opened relations Glad I finally got to see The country That so many Americans visited so many decades ago Buddha In Vietnam In Saigon, I saw the Buddha Buddha images are everywhere Temples are scattered about Here and there and everywhere Buddha lives on In the hearts and minds Of the Vietnamese soul The communists tried To get rid of Buddhism And other religious traditions But they failed And Buddhism has come back Still speaks to the Vietnamese people A different style A different vibe Than Korean Buddhism But still Buddhist thought Prevails in the tropical lands Of the South Mekong Dreams Traveling along the Mekong Back in time Seeing the river The people Imagining life on the river Imagining the war The past in the Mekong delta And the present tourist boom Yet life goes on With its own laid back rhythm As we traversed the river We were transported back To an earlier time Following the ancient rhythms Of the Mekong Delta Down and Out in Saigon Southeast Asia, and Mexico has always attracted A certain type of westerner The down and out On a down word spiral Why? Relatively cheap to live Lots of part time gigs Teaching English Or other things Booze, drugs, sex Readily available And cheap Places to stay Dirt cheap And no one needs To sleep outdoors Easy to disappear Into the foreigner's backpackers ghettos And escape From whatever you are running from The locals are somewhat tolerant The police usually look the other way And there are lots of people In your shoes I was surprised to find That Saigon has become The latest place For the down and outer crowd To gather together In Bangkok, one sees them a lot In Cambodia as well In the Philippines In Nepal And south of the border In Mexico as well In India not so much In Japan and Korea Just too damn expensive And too cold to be outdoors Back in the day I used to work The citizen services gig And saw lots of the down and outer set The old song comes to mind No one remembers you When you are down and out And in the States Being down and out Means living on the mean streets As it is very difficult To live with almost no money And the various side hustles Don’t give you much money Unless you are dealing drugs And teaching ESL Is not an option Food is expensive Transportation is expensive Booze and drugs expensive Rent is prohibitive Commercial sex is expensive And no one loves you If you are down and out No one knows your name You are just another homeless bum Invisible to all As you try to make do Much better to be down and out In Southeast Asia Than on the mean streets Of the USA Ghosts of Chu Chi Crawling down the tunnels Of Chu Chi I could almost imagine The Viet Kong guerillas Hiding deep under the tunnels As the land above is turned Into a temporary dessert With the vegetation burned off By napalm and agent orange The Viet Kong creep out at night Stealing onto the bases Stealing weapons, food, supplies And occasionally killing soldiers In their sleep The US soldiers Stay on base at night Terrified of the mosquitos And of the Viet Kong the ghosts Surround me Telling me their stories And at last I fled Through the emergency escape tunnel Declaring victory Profoundly shaken up By the ghosts of the Chu Chi tunnels Saigon 2019 Saigon 2019 Vibrant, vivid, exciting A city on the move Becoming a world class city Yet still with a Saigon swagger Wandering the streets Dodging the traffic Admiring the women Enjoying the food Saigon enters my heart And I know that I will be back This city is growing on me Reminds me of Korea back in the 1990’s One opes that as it develops It will not become a carbon copy Of other big Asian cities Obliterating its past In search of a false modern image I hope it can retain What makes Saigon Saigon And not become another Gangnam Hope it does it with Saigon style And the people will evolve The country will emerge And become what it should be The Paris of the East This is my vision Saigon 2019 Saigon 1995 Saigon 1995 In 1995 I was one of the first tourists Allowed into Vietnam To freely wander about Tourism was at its infancy And Saigon was chaotic Wild and crazy Traffic was insane There were few tourism sites Few hotels Few guest houses And not too many restaurants The food was good We saw the war memorial The re-unification palace And the big market But we felt we were being monitored Beggars were everywhere There were scams everywhere And it was not that pleasant an experience But Saigon grew up Became a much more tourist friendly place And these problems we encountered A thing of the place Saigon is so much better So much more developed That it has captured our soul And we will be back Ode to Vietnamese Coffee Vietnam has the best coffee In the damn world Just perfect Hot as hell Sweet as heaven With a kick my ass attitude To boot Can’t resist it Even thought it means I can’t sleep Must Have My Damn Vietnam Coffee Right Now VC2 In Saigon One meets All sorts of strange characters VCQ VCQ he called himself He was filled with stories From the war And the revolution afterwards VC2 Was a young man In Danang During the war 15 years old Recruited into the VC Infiltrated into the base Just another street urchin Stole away at night Hiding on the big air base Stealing things To sell at the black market Just one of the army Of street urchins That became friendly With the enemy They called him VCQ And the nickname stuck That is what he called himself Said that he had become A VC Seal known as the VCQ Learned his English From his black marketing days He perfect the art Of wheeling and dealing As a street urchin In the mean streets of Danang After the war he rose through the ranks Retired as a general Became a college professor Later opened his own business An interior design business When Saigon became Saigon Once again Wheeling and dealing Around the world Always one step ahead Of the semi-communist authorities One day he came back with 25 bottles Of wine The customs guy said That is too much He said but I can’t drink them all And gave him 5 bottles Problem solved And VCQ laughed and laughed As the wine washed over us And we became drunk With his endless stories From the mouth of VCQ Just another night In Saigon Drinking the Night Away With the VCQ Future VC Saigon is filled with interesting characters Filled with fascinating backstories One could write hundreds of stories About the people one encounters In a nail shop That caters to mostly Korean visitors We met a boy of 8 years old Who was a natural born hustler He had wonderful English Wonderful French And even some Korean And he wanted to show us around He spoke English Without an accent In an upper class British style As if he were born to the manor How and why he learned English so well Would be an interesting story His Mother was also An interesting character Been running the store For five years Amused it had become the Korean To Go place In Saigon Just one of those mysterious things They had another shop nearby A smoothie place And he offered to guide us there But were in a hurry As we left I thought to myself Here is a future VCQ The fascinating character That had wined and dined us Late into the night Beguiling us with his tales From his time in the VC Wonder what this future VCQ Will tell his future friends About his past life Living in a beauty saloon?

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

Explore the Craft of Writing Poetry Southeast Asian Verse Sri Lanka or the Democratic Socialist Republic of Sri Lanka, is an island country in the northern Indian Ocean off the southern coast of India. The earliest literary influences came from Hinduism and Buddhism. The poetic form I was able to find originated in the ancient Tamil language of the area. Tamil is one of the oldest written languages dating back to 300 BC, the grammar of which is very rigid. It is said to be one of the last classical language, defined as, its origins are ancient, it has independent traditions and it has a "considerable" body of ancient literature. The Kural, meaning "short, concise, and abridged", is an ancient Tamil verse form of southern India and Sri Lanka. It was first recognized in 1330 couplets in the Tamil language by the Vedic poet, Valluvar. "Considered one of the greatest works ever written on ethics and morality, chiefly secular ethics, it is known for its universality and non-denominational nature." Wikipedia. The Kural is written in only 2 lines and unlike many Eastern verse forms the lines are measured by "words" rather than syllables. The couplets are referred to as "literary proverbs". First found at Kaleidoscope. The couplet is named from the original series of 1330 couplets, each a stand alone poem , recorded in a series and contributory to a larger whole. Therefore, at the poet's discretion, a poem could consist of any number of kurals, as long as the couplets could stand alone. The elements of the Kural are: a complete couplet, a distich, a poem in 2 lines. Can be written in a series or any number of kurals as long as each could stand alone. composed with 4 words in L1 and 3 words in L2. unmetered and unrhymed the lines parallel or juxtapose one another. pitch pattern is language specific and impossible to emulate in English. (But we try anyway. A substitute in English would be particular attention paid to the sound and texture of the words chosen. ) titled or untitled at the poet's discretion. Timeless Ancient words touch today, Darkness fills my world poets never die. I let go. ~~Judi Van Gorder ~~ Gypsy Ann from Writing.com Also read The Kural and the Art of Poetry by Manjul Bajaj which includes several amazing examples of what can be done with just 7 words.

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