Tag: poetry

Elements (poem)

by Stephen J Frankenberry7 Comments on Elements (poem)

I couldn’t

as Master tasked

decide on earth or fire, water or air

which was I

his ask

for our studies

surely test

of his best

pupil I thought

he said

once

.

I said …

.

Earth is of dirt where life begins in leaves to breathe, breads to eat

where to build upon

place our heads until

lay down with centuries and crawl underneath

To begin again

.

Fire lights our way plucked from the sky before end

day’s fade to preserve till return

warms us

But also destroys only to apologize in violent cleanse

feeding earth in its regret

.

Water quenches us, is most of us, fills us to the burst of tear

rinses sins when it falls

along

with us

but drowns when wayward we

and recedes in earth after the washing away

.

Air fills our chests from its sky

lifts wings so we know beauty, hear songs in beautiful sings

carried to dream

but angers sudden and scatters earth to far places

then feeds anew wherever earth it lands

.

I am afraid I may

disappoint

this day

Master

but I cannot decide

as I would surely choose

either

which presented first

for choice of lesson

from your best pupil

as you’ve said

once

I hope

until the next takes it’s place

in choice

none the lesser

all the mighty for the thought

but I think I is earth

as all seem return

there

.

I turned to master only to see he had gone to ground

started to sprout

and it began to rain

as wind fed his leaf to rise

a flame lit my way

in lack of light

and warmed me

until it dawned

on me

dawned new day

//////////////////////////////////////////

Prompt:

THE FOUR ELEMENTS at dVerse Poets from Kim of Writing in North Norfolk

The ancient Greeks believed that the Universe is made up of four elements: earth, air, fire, and water.

Your challenge is to choose one of the basic four elements and explore it.

This Valentine’s Day Mom (poem)

by Stephen J FrankenberryLeave a Comment on This Valentine’s Day Mom (poem)

This Valentines Day Mom

In lieu of penny cards and cartoon hearts and scribbles for the girls in class

I give pews and prayers, psalms and songs

hymned

thoughts

of you

as we kneel and stand and kneel again

by rote

but not

this time

.

For this Valentines Day Mom

a visit’s miss of vibrant flowered kisses and Cadbury hugs

I introduce you new neighbors

with stoic, staid flowers

instead

in a tall-stoned village on a hill

taller for the tall stones of stories chiseled name’s memories

through a winter’s quiet breezed thought

around words from a book and a sash

of Greg Torggler, Max Rubenstein (“Ruby” to his friends?)

Nancy Benedict Sirko and Theresa (“T” maybe?)

Joan and James and Gail

to hold you (“Linny”, Dad would gush)

close

as neighbors should

.

For this Valentines Day Mom

No phone call to check on the mail

did it arrive

with personal notes and jokes

and a picture of a cat

folded in Hallmarked thoughts

writ with pen’s messy flourish

often the second or third drafted card bought

to flourish just right

but

I give

you

that one special penny card

that one special cartooned heart

held

brought home from class

scribbled “Mom” just for you

For this Valentine’s Day

The Crow & The Winter Witch (poem)

by Stephen J Frankenberry14 Comments on The Crow & The Winter Witch (poem)

So at dVerse Poets this week Kim had an eye check-up for a new prescription and part of the check-up was to read from laminated test cards of different size fonts in sentences and below each of the sentences were sets of four words. She thought these sets of four words would make a cool poetics prompt.

And, thus, said prompt from Kim? To choose one or two sets of words and write a poem using them in the order in which they appear. There was a bit more possible to the prompt but I was good … thanks Kim.

Here are the sets of words:

(I chose the sets in bold)

nose – one – cause – even
were – crone – our – summer
name – use – means – arose
near – can – remove – sure
crow – verse – see – renew
assume – once- van – sum
aware – caves – sea – cream

The Crow & The Winter Witch

The crow walks as if his smart, stone counting, building stick were cigar

like Groucho

or cane for crone who invites him for company’s perch and old silly movies

in cold months

and caws crow joke verse for friends to hear

and see

in funny slide skip dance steps

on out warm window sills

that make old lonely

fairy tale’d spoke

bent magic’d women

laugh

and friends cackle

in wing’d giggle gaggle

flitting

fits away

while he lingers her equally bent house

in the winter wood

“our bent house”

he thinks

to while away until

Spring

then Summer

renew

her time to wait on lost children

in the wood

for new Grimm tales be writ  

To Cliche Or Not To Cliche, That Is … The Cliche? (poem)

by Stephen J Frankenberry3 Comments on To Cliche Or Not To Cliche, That Is … The Cliche? (poem)

So there was a prompt from Bjorn at dVerse Poets earlier this week and it was this, Meet the bar positively through negation (though I did miss the window of submission to this one … I am often late to the party on a lot of these but still a prompt).

Now, I’m sure, I didn’t really meet the ask of this one and the “negation” thought, or maybe I did (that’s probably a part of everything I write without even thinking about it) but it did talk of cliche and maybe using negation to try and sidestep and I just got stuck.

Cliché Or Not To Cliché, That Is  … The Cliche?

Is it cliché to talk of cliché as if it weren’t cliché

instead

original, unique, one minded

new

descriptions freshly took

of former looks

inscriptions on old stone tablets I mined myself

or did I

with new hooks as if in song

surely no tuneful influence except …

and chipped into fashion with old used worn stone tools

fashioned a way

of white picket fences and lights of my life

to paths less traveled away

from fools

you think

from cliché

.

Is it cliché to try not be cliché?

Maybe This Christmas (poem)

by Stephen J Frankenberry12 Comments on Maybe This Christmas (poem)

A prompt from Dora at dVerse Poets to write a poem, with a holiday tint, using “Despite” and “Still” and so many well worked and wondrous examples of Dora’s inspiration and intent.

//////////////////////////////////////////

Maybe this Christmas

Maybe this Christmas will find

what was left behind

(in one small sock lost back under tree in a crack in the floor

found

maybe by new)

the glee of lights I knew could be seen

above all

on high

as there were none in the whole wide world of our street

that could meet

expectations or faces of Christmas like we

.

Maybe

just maybe

newer new will find what was left behind

(remodel make old undone amid dust and splinters and curses

of hammered thumbs

that one

now graying sock

fallen through crack)

a gift from Mom’s and Dad’s of memories back

that held promise

of lights they knew could be seen

in child’s dreams

at Christmas

above all

despite

whole wide world’s changed street

through thick dark clouds

now

expectations tougher reach

.

Maybe

season’s redemptive thought

maybe

newest new will find that once lost behind

(after tear down that faded sock of gifted wonder in rubble

of rebuild

could

maybe

be found

still

full of sparkling memories dusted, cleaned, fancy new)

finally

with chocolates and giggles and little games with hue

of wonder

after so many years

to maybe

just maybe

gift to the latest new

of expectations

anew

seen above all others in this whole wide world’s now angry street

maybe

just maybe this Christmas

These Bangs (poem)

by Stephen J Frankenberry7 Comments on These Bangs (poem)

A new Quadrille poem prompt at dVerse Poets to begin the week.

A 44 word dVerse poem that, this time around, asks to include the word “Bang”.

/////

These Bangs

Big ones that begat this life

to

smaller ones

softly floating wispy cloth plush petite over imploring eyes that begat beauty

on mountains I sounded song

from peaks   

I louded

bangs

until this

another

faded in bangless valley’s whimper

but lingering echo

these bangs

Christmas Kitten (poem)

by Stephen J Frankenberry10 Comments on Christmas Kitten (poem)

So a prompt for the holidays, an Etheree poem (no, I had no clue either) focusing on Christmas trees and themes of such. The full explanation of an Etheree poem and examples and the rest is in the link to the prompt from dVerse Poets here, An Etheree Tree, but it is …

… write in the form of this Etheree which is 10 non-rhyming lines graduating, per line, from 1 syllable in line 1 to 10 in line 10. The only addition to the form was two extra lines of only 2 syllables each at the end.

Now, not the original intent of the Etheree of course, but if you then center the 10 lines on the page and add the two extra lines for the tree trunk bottom you get the shape of a Christmas tree, which, well, just looks cool

It made me think of a favorite couple of pictures from so many years ago of Cal, the kitten, 2004 or so, in a house I shared with my sister and brother then.

Cal, one of the 5 kittens that were kittened to us by a pregnant cat (my brother named her Mia) who just showed up at our back door one day looking for a place to possibly stay. She had surely seen my Benny in his Benny to and fro’s around neighbor’s yards and flower beds and through his cat door and thought to herself in a wanting way, “these are good cat folk and this is just the place to lay my head” and proud, expectant belly in a toweled cardboard box world with lots of human hovering and eventual kitten squirming. She was also the Mom of my beloved “Shoes”, the Big Orange, who I would eventually write of quite a lot over his 11 too short years.

Well, this was from the first Christmas with Cal and Shoes (after we found homes for the others) and I thought they would be the perfect pictures for this.

Christmas Kitten

I

kitten

can’t see me

I hide in glow

of lights and baubles

pictures cute found subject

broken heirloom sighs know blame

but can’t hold true meaning account

Christmas purr instinct as a cat will

until climb down to plush skirt and cat nap

warm blinks

cat dreams

Oh … and since I mentioned it, this is one of that cardboard box that came with all the human hovering.

I Alone … and Cricket the Cat (poem)

by Stephen J Frankenberry11 Comments on I Alone … and Cricket the Cat (poem)

New Quadrille prompt, a dVerse poem of just 44 words with a word to include . This time around, in the prompt from Lisa, the word is “with”. And the 44 word count does not include the title by the way.

Well, I thought to one of my cats and my well practiced solitude.

I Alone … and Cricket the Cat

I alone

mostly

with intent

No sympathies fished

.

Alone  

with company

only of a blind/deaf cat for dinner

and unknowing muse

of word’s dessert

.

Alone  

I embrace Cricket’s solitude

as my own

with only laps and words

Needed for us to feel

in tandem

A Dragon’s Lament (poem)

by Stephen J Frankenberry2 Comments on A Dragon’s Lament (poem)

Earlier this week was a prompt at dVerse poets of Dragons and some history and to write of such. Now I missed the “window” to include an entry to this prompt but I still thought to get to something about Dragons, thus …

A Dragon’s Lament

I am ‘bout fold up my wings

my lament

of Dragon lore and settling scores

with villagers who I wish fight no more

fly over to tremble their thatch

homes

and thatch fields and thatch clothes and thatch thoughts

they too easy to burn brittle

if so

and turn

into fiery jackals wishing my hide

to feast in grand time at my demise

.

They can have my riches

though I have none

of what would I do

if so

with even some

piled glinting, blinding high laired in dragon stories

told

from the point of pike and mobbed pitchfork flamed dance

in arduous trek trance for my neck

up craggy rocks into nether clouds

relying only unfaithful stories old told

and pub rounds and child astounds

past passed bold by narrator’s false glories

at my expense

these stories

.

I do tire

of my lore and these scores and blames and games

for children

with wooden swords and kindling thoughts

vengeful words

sung for so long by “Sing along!” bards for coin

those

who

I do regret

I might have to come for just yet

one final flight in the night

for peace from song

to put dragon myths to long

rest

.

Oh, just to fly

Headstone … The Walk

by Stephen J FrankenberryLeave a Comment on Headstone … The Walk

Headstone continued … The Walk

Headstone

In a graveyard nearing dusk the groundskeeper came upon Death, leaning heavily on his knot gnarl anguish handled scythe as he knelt at an almost hidden, fallen stone, shunned, just outside the cemetery, alone, at the edge of a large forest. He wept quietly.

“Are you alright old man?”

Death was startled

“What?!” as he tried to stand

“No need. Pay your respects”

“Why don’t you shudder cold at the sight of me, cringe, run to escape who I am, maybe to you?”

“I know death. I have been here as long as you have searched … for your mother right? How did you know?”

“I had this inscribed in her stone I pray to God that she may lie forever with unopened eye hoping she would never see my shame and what I had become and wrought”

The groundskeeper said “Let’s walk my friend” …

//////////////////////////////////////////

Headstone … The Walk

The groundskeeper walked his common with death in tow

“I knew her”

“I knew him, he was an ass, he was having an affair and was found out with a jealous bullet”

“She was the find in a weird way, but still buried together”

“He was a sad case of life cut short … on a Tuesday I think”

“That one was an unfortunate result of small minds”

“This was a way back where they wore masks … “

Stop!

What?

We’re just walking here, so stop.

But?

You know all of them, of course, we know that. Jobs are jobs and you have yours but I have mine … look to the distance, the Lily fields. These are my keep, some come to cry, to anguish and blubber, some come to just sit and wonder of talk to other places as if their words can be heard, some come to be seen for talk of why they were late today on someone’s birthday

That is Angie, talking to her dad

Those are flowers left by Peter who feels better now even though he was an awful son and knows he hastened his dad’s death

That is Bart, off to the left, who comes here only because he feels if he doesn’t he will lose whatever semblance of sanity he has left

That’s Michelle, after years away, who feels that wiping off the dust and dirt of time will somehow make everything better

Then there is Thomas, who I truly feel for, his loss that just destroyed him as that headstone is the last thing he has left in whatever it was that tried him in his world. Know that your job has consequences.

But what are we to do?

Nothing, we can do nothing, but we can have a little respect. I take comfort in some genuine words spoke at knelt stone, when there are some, when loss is so profound that it brings a tear to even this old groundskeeper’s eye

This is what you do?

It is, but I don’t fault you for doing what YOU do. Now stand …

But I don’t even remember having knelt

… use that scythe for balance and stand up from your creaky knees and let’s go over to that corner and to Maribel

Why Maribel … is she?

No, leave her be, she has time, still has a daughter to come, but she sings, she even extols your virtues

Me? My virtues?

She sings of what is done and understands, as do I, though in a lesser chord, I am no singer, and in such a glorious voice

Her loss?

Doesn’t matter, she just comes here, twice a week, sometimes more, and just sings along with the trees and the breeze and the sun and short lived birds through the stones underneath her feet that look out over the hills that this place, all of these places, are as they always are intended to be

Oh my, that is heaven

I know

You said she still has a daughter to come?

STOP!! My expanse can still include you, death can die. There will be another. It just won’t be you.