Of a person, time or place:
Of previous position:
More episodes from Haiku City…
With advanced cooking lessons:
The name’s Bond, James Bond
Her Majesty’s Government.
Licence to haiku
Keeping three balls in the air
Who knows where they’ll land?
Tears of a clown
Sad smile, facepaint smudging…
With a happy twist
Never beyond seventeen:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/kessiye/8998156548 / Creative Commons
This post was inspired by a conversation with a fellow haikuist, TJ Paris, who introduced me to the words “haikuist” and “haikunomics”… I get the feeling I’ll be returning to this topic 🙂
The haikuist spoke
In measured three line thought bursts
The haiku cleaner
Swept all the day’s dirt away
With a three-part brush
Old haiku park-drunk
Slurred random haikuisms
At all passers-by
Of voodoo haikunomics
The haiku lawyer
Didn’t win a single case.
Haiku has limits…
https://www.flickr.com/photos/osamukaneko/5083595448 / Creative Commons
This is Ronovan’s latest haiku challenge, with the prompt words “lock” and “gab”. https://ronovanwrites.wordpress.com/2015/06/15/haikuchallenge-49-ronovanwrites-lock-gab/ I wrote a huuuuuge pile of love haiku at the weekend that I’m publishing here each day, and it seems that the theme of love has seeped into these too…
The Princess and the Toad
A garrulous toad
Unlocks the princess’s heart
But he’s not a prince
The Love That Dare Not Speak
I don’t have the words
For love that dares not whisper
Lock down all feeling
The gift of the gab
Is my route to your riches
A forbidden love?
RonovanWrites Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt Challenge #47 Water & Bard
A tough pair of word prompts this week – https://ronovanwrites.wordpress.com/2015/06/01/ronovanwrites-weekly-haiku-poetry-prompt-challenge-47-water-bard/
I’ve tried a few different styles. Apologies in advance for the awful punning!
Bard of the water:
The noble, elegant swan.
We wait on her song
Wand’ring bard holds court
Singing epic love stories.
Eyes fill with water
The Office Poet
Office bard jots down
An ode to a can of Coke.
Pass me the water!
The Obligatory Pun
Drunk poet dancing
Makes water on the dance floor
“Get out, you. You’re bard”
You were promised slug poems, and slug poems is what you’ve got! Two of them!
Slug Poem #1
A tired snail
Slimes for home across the lawn.
“I’m feeling slugg-ish”
Slug poem #2
On a slow news day
In the ‘hood beneath the leaves
All is peaceful, still.
In this slimy den of thieves.
BANG! A shot rings out
Resounding through the ghetto
(It’s a salt rifle…
Deadly as a stiletto)
Mums weep slug tears
A young life stopped in its tracks
… Slug Life
I recently completed the A-Z Challenge of writing a poem every day throughout April 2015 themed on a letter of the alphabet. Having the supportive friends that I do (!), one then pointed out that in Old English there was ANOTHER letter that slowly fell in to disuse through the middle ages, even though we still see it’s legacy today in English village signs. This letter is known as “thorn” and represents the “th” sound, originally written as “þ” but then mutated into a “y”. So, Nick challenged me to write one more poem for this alphabet collection and wrote his own too – check it out here: https://babbitman.wordpress.com/2015/05/07/y-is-for-thorn/
The deadline for this was the þirteenþ of May (unfortunately not a Þurþsday)…
My good friend Nick has made a case
To crown the thorn back into place
As letter number 27
(Bring it back from letter heaven)
“Why use two instead of one?”
Is how your argument be-gun
I think you’re right! But let’s go further
And check that every letter’s worth a
Place in the new alphabet
(One in which our needs are met
Without the need to get upset)
So we’ll keep the thorn, but oþers go.
þis is how our language grows.
We’ll join the Yanks and drop most “U”s
Colour/ color – you can choose!
We’ll phase out “X” at þe start of words
(þat will please þe blogging herds)
We’ll drop þe “H” (so many do)
“C” kan go, and so kan “Q”
(þe “Q” of “quay” makes no sense to me.
Let’s ekonomise and kall it “key”)
Is this too much? Would you endorse it?
Or does language grow best,
If you don’t force it?
I used to be a secret agent, but tired of all that spying.
I used to be a hard worker, but found it much too trying.
I used to be as good as gold, but cashed it in for pennies.
I used to have a head of hair, but lost it in my twenties.
I used to believe; now my well of faith is dry
I used to have a future, before the years went by.
I used to give the orders: now I do what I’m told.
The worst thing about getting old is… getting old.
I used to be a copper, but rusted in the rain.
I used to be a cabbie, but longed to drive a train.
I used to be a wild animal: now I’m an indoor cat.
I used to be a little this, but now I’m more a that.
I used to be a Red, but now my colour’s Green.
I used to be Easter: now I’m Halloween.
Life used to be just better. Regrets? I have a few.
Know that when you’re tested, be careful what you do.
I used to be a fighter, but now am less a lover.
I used to be overt, but now I’m undercover.
I used to be a man of mystery, now my life’s an open book.
I used to be a president, but now I’m not a crook.
I used to wear sharp suits: now I’m dressing down.
I used to be lost: but still I don’t feel found.
I used to be a big cheese. I’m now a Babybel.
I wonder about the choices that led to my own hell.
I used to be cutting edge, but now my wits are dulled.
I used to be a writer, but all my tales are told.
I used to be hot stuff: now I’m yesterday’s stuffing.
I used to be a million: now I’m more like nothing.
I used to be the many, but now I’m in the few.
I used to have the answers: now I wonder what to do.
I used to be. Now, not to be. A life unmade;
A belt unbuckled; a song unsung; a piano unplayed.
I used to be in the circle, now I’m outside looking in.
I used to be hot-headed, now I take it on the chin.
I used to be a dreamer; now it’s a bloody nightmare.
I used to be spontaneous, but now it’s only childcare.
I used to play the king, but now I wear no crown.
I used to be an adverb; now I’m just a noun.
I used to have it all; then we had to part.
Everything changed in the blinking of a heart.
I used to tell tall tales, but time has changed a lot.
Should you believe a word of this?
You should not.
occasional creativity in a bloke-shaped package
Children's Author, Tea Drinker, Epic Procrastinator
Laura Grevel Blogs on Life and Writing
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This is the blog of a woman who is seriously on the edge and I mean right ON the edge…no, not there… just a little bit further… further than that…no, further still…just a tiny bit more… just move slightly to the right a little…no, that’s too much…just move a tad to the left…that’s right, just there…now you’ve moved too far to the left… Damn, what part of the ‘on the edge’ do you not understand? Oh, and her matricidal boy genius, come devil spawn.
Alistair Lane - Writer, Poet, Daydreamer
Writing, the Universe and whatever occurs to me
Poetry from Walsall and Black Country poet Richard Archer since 2011
Reminding mean boys that big girls push back since 2015.
Words, words, words
~ Communicator, WordSmith, Artist, Guide, Mentor, Muse ~
Ramblings, poetry & short snipets