Love Of Fare At the poetry fair verbiage fills the air as I sample each poet’s concoction: haiku-rich canapes, free-form salads, parfaits of thick verse, sonnets baked to perfection. Wine of symbol and sound, liqueur lyrics abound I’m becoming an addict of diction, till I stumble around very drunk on profound poems that make my… Continue reading Love of Fare – Poetry Friday
A poem is i 15-minute stretch session that turns into an hour-long workout daily dose of Vitamin B Complex empowering, strengthening, energizing word binge of connotation, alliteration, rhyme rich helpings of similes and metaphors catharsis, mind-cleanse, purge veiled in enigma to say the unsayable one more cipher on the cell-wall of life ii gift bag… Continue reading A poem is
The uniform of ever after (On reading ever after, a poetry chapbook by Robert Martens.) All small letters of the English alphabet are jealous of the characters who got set into ever after – a socialist utopia of egalitarian equivalence with no capitals in sight. Syntax wars of who comes first in sentence or name… Continue reading The uniform of ever after
Love Of Fare At the poetry fair verbiage fills the air as I sample each poet’s concoction: haiku-rich canapes, free-form salads, parfaits of thick verse, sonnets baked to perfection. Wine of symbol and sound, liqueur lyrics abound I’m becoming an addict of diction, till I stumble around very drunk on profound poems that make my… Continue reading Love of fare
The Alchemy of Poetry Position the inert element (any prompt will do) into the beaker of an empty page and bathe in the acid of a long stare. Place vessel over the flame of thought. Heat until surface softens and breaks into fault lines. With any writing instrument organize component parts into webs and lists.… Continue reading The Alchemy of Poetry
wordsmith forge poems from elements of experience experience grown pliable in fire of memory memory of emotion and story gathered in words words heated and handled cautiously with pencil-hammer hammer softened elements into a piece of writing that’s new new use for something on recollection’s shelf shelve it to cool and await its next reincarnation… Continue reading wordsmith
I take my walk just in time under the frowning sky, share the green with black crows and white gulls. They graze while I ponder should I give it up this tinkering with words that pilfers time from creased shirts and dusty corners? There’s little coin to justify hours spent and what will be its… Continue reading I take my walk just in time
Violet Nesdoly 