Monday's Poetry Stretch

It's been a while since I've done Monday's Poetry Stretch. This one was fun to do...not only inspired by the prompt of writing a personal ad poem, but also by Jane Yolen's poem she posted first thing...rhyming poems are fun to write...

Next!

I'm tall and slim
And somewhat prim,
My hair a mess
I must confess,
But eyes of blue
And that is true.

I love to read,
My biggest need,
To you I'll talk,
And mend your sock,
Do you believe?
Then how naive!

My dogs, my cats,
My birds, my rats
Mean more to me
Than drink or tea.

I live a life,
And need a wife
To cook and clean,
I'll be your queen,
You'll be my king,
I'll take your ring...

It's no, you say
Well that's okay,
I'll not resist--
Next! on my list...

Monday's Poetry Stretch

Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason. ~Novalis

Today, even though it's not Monday, I am doing Monday's Poetry Stretch, and a stretch I believe it will be. Below will be an attempt at a lipogram, and I have decided to write a short verse without the letter 'e' as that seems to be the most challenging...


Without

Oh, how do you put
In writing
A short group of words
With constraints, such as
A missing part
Of what allows us to
Talk amongst humans,
Without driving us
NUTS!!!??

Monday Poetry Stretch

All the poet can do today is warn.
That is why true Poets must be truthful. ~~Wilfred Owen


Once again it is Miss Rumphius' Poetry Stretch, and a stretch it is. Here's my shot at an ottava rima.


A part of my dad’s brain died the other day,
A part of him is gone because he had a stroke,
Words get stuck and he has nothing to say,
He can’t even tell me another great joke,
No more soccer or hockey can we play,
His whole right side is completely broke,
I know one day he’ll be able to walk,
I also hope he’ll be able to talk.


As is often the case these days, my poetry projects what is or has been happening in our family life this past year. Good therapy, I say!

Thanks for this stretch it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be...

Monday Poetry Stretch

Always be a poet, even in prose. ~Charles Baudelaire, "My Heart Laid Bare," Intimate Journals, 1864

Today is the first Poetry Stretch of the year. Here is my contribution and hopefully my continued presence. I have been somewhat absent since my husband's stroke.

Head on over to The Miss Rumphius Effect for instructions and join in. Here's my contribution which didn't exactly follow the rules, but then I'm not known for following all the rules!

The Kitchen

Golden brown
Resting on oval,
Knife whirrrs,
Slices --
Juices drool,
Mistletoe dangles,
Aprons meet,
Lips meet,
Smiles melt into
Sun's rays.

Monday Poetry Stretch

Imaginary gardens with real toads in them. ~Marianne Moore's definition of poetry, "Poetry," Collected Poems, 1951

This week on Miss Rumphius' Monday Poetry Stretch you are prompted to write a poem from a delightful image of a young boy building a sand mountain.

Here's my poem titled:

Mountains

A mountain of sand,
Temporary, until
waves wash
this mountain of sand
away.
My mountain
Is not built
Of sand.