Today is the day I stop feeling sorry for myself. Or at least the day that I recognize that I do it a lot. And today is also the day that I own the fact that I love romance and simple love so SUE ME! Here is a poem dedicated to that and the form is a Tautogram where all the words in the poem start with the same letter but for the sake of my sanity I will be modifying the rules. I’m only going to have every sentence start with the same letter.
** This post is four days late… YEET
Another
So let your hair tangle in my fingers
Stop when we decide to look up
Sacred are these days where our pulses sync
Saving every moment’s second just in case
The Terzanelle Poem is a combo of the Italian Terza Rita and the Villanelle. It uses repetition and rhyming. That’s all I have to say on this form 🙂
My Dogs
Beaujoe walked like a snail
Precious slept with a growl
Frostee has a long white tail
Only precious scowled
The other two sulked
Precious slept with a growl
None of them pulled
On the leash
The other two sulked
Two of them had to leave
Frostee’s still here
On the leash
It’s water they fear
They loved a nice pillow
Frostee’s still here
I think I’ll get another named willow
Beaujoe walked like a snail
They loved a nice pillow
Frostee has a long tail
The Thaun-Bauk poem is a short, Burmese poem consisting of three lines and four syllables per line. I realize that I am four days behind on *posting* my poems, but I have been keeping up with writing them daily – except for yesterday – and hoarding them all to myself on my google drive.
Dream When You’re Awake
Check both your hands
But don’t stand still
These lands will merge
Alright, now that I had the luxury of that short poem, I have to dive into the Trenta-Sei which is a 36 line poem with rhyming and refrains and is, in fact, my worst nightmare.
Sick in the Head and Heart
When your chest squeezes slightly
And your head cannot find
Even the slightest slit of reality
Then you have slipped into a combined
Sickness of the head and the heart
Soon they meld and cannot be cured apart
And your head cannot find
The color in the grass or sky
It feels as though your brains gone blind
Perhaps you have given in and died
The afterlife isn’t much different
Not at all, or maybe you’re ignorant
Even the slightest slit of reality
Blurs like a new Monet
You breathe and count to three
The dream begins its slow decay
Gulping down fresh sun
Vividness returns maybe you’ve won
Then you have slipped into a combined
Confusion – you’ve tricked yourself
Then your heart leaps as to remind
You of your sickness in the ticker as well
As the spinning through your thoughts
Your eyes are bloodshot
Sickness of the head and the heart
Sounds like a song by Mumford & Sons
But it’s not romantic, it’s a horrible tart
Sitting in the bones and lungs
It’s all you can do not to run
Soon they meld and cannot be cured apart
The body mutates into one ill mix
Between reality or dreams – you wish to depart
Breathe in and out on the count of six
Calm the mess to spot the intertwined relief
Perhaps scattered along the body as dead leaves