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  • Writer's pictureJafei Pollitt

Day #85-#88: Self Realizations Ladies!!

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


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

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