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A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi. (In front of you, a precipice. Behind you, wolves.)

Thursday, April 18, 2019

Day 18--National Poetry Month--Poem-in-Your-Pocket-Day--Couplets--Skin--Gate of the Year

Today is Poem-in-your-Pocket Day. If you want to know more about that, go here. I wrote this one before (and after) a shower, trying not to get too much water on it. Don't go there. Just read the poem. And for Heaven's sake, keep a cool poem in your pocket today. (A song is a poem too, you know.)


SKIN
My skin doesn't fit on my form anymore
It's wrink'ly and loose where it wasn't before

There are bits poking out that should probably be
Inside where the crevices now are on me.

Things once that were firm, now are hopelessly saggy
I feel like an elephant, lumb'ring and baggy

But as per manufacturer's specs, if my skin
Is still doing its job and keeping things in 

I cannot complain much about how it jiggles
If guts are inside then there's still time to giggle

With my entrails still en and my extrails vice versa
Skin protects me from viruses, bacteria, and mersa

Though I can't help bemoaning the dastardly truth
That wrinkles immediately trumped zits, forsooth!

© 2019 by H. Linn Murphy




This is a poem I really love by Minnie Louise Haskins called GOD KNOWS. It has a rich past. If you'd like to know more about it, try here. I'm keeping this poem in my pocket today like Queen Elizabeth II did.


 God Knows 
(Commonly called GATE OF THE YEAR)

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:
“Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”
And he replied:
“Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”
So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night.
And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East. 


So heart be still:
What need our little life
Our human life to know, 
If God hath comprehension?
In all the dizzy strife
Of things both high and low, 
God knows. His will

Is best. The stretch of years
Which wind ahead, so dim
To our imperfect vision, 
Are clear to God. Our fears
Are premature; In Him,
All time hath full provision.

Then rest: until 
God moves to lift the veil 
From our impatient eyes,
When, as the sweeter features
Of Life's stern face we hail,
Fair beyond all surmise
God's thought around His creatures
Our mind shall fill.
©1908 by M. Louise Haskins
 

Wednesday, April 17, 2019

Day 17--National Poetry Month--Haiku--Crane Fly--Free Verse--Le Notre Dame


Today I'm doing a Haiku. I don't have time to make it a poiku, because I'm off to the Temple. If you'd like to learn more about this poetry form, go here.


Sweet little crane fly
Why do you enter the fridge?
You end in cold dark.

                                                            © 2019 by H. Linn Murphy




o
o
oo
oo
oo
oo
oo
Le
No
tre
Da
me
Time
Less and
So very grand
Jewel of your land
History and art bound in
Intricate lacy rock spires
Rose window a dainty filigree
A myriad bits of rainbow glass
Woven together enhancing the light
o I never knew your peace o   
 Though I wish I had come   
  To worship in my own way  
   In your echoing confines   
       France's Gray lady down      
oThough before you stoodo
ooStaunch against ravage ofoo
oo War, revolution, and plague oo
oo    Succumbed to the flames    oo
oo    As once did Joan the Maid     oo
oo      You, like she will rise from      oo
oo        The ashes again to inspire,         oo
ooo         And delight, as once before.         ooo
  © 2019 by H. Linn Murphy

Tuesday, April 16, 2019

Day 16--National Poetry Month--Free Verse--Jack Sprat Tango--Windspark Poem--Titanic


I'll give you this free verse offering until I can get to the computer to do one of Stephanie's choosing...:o) It's another one that I woke up with, laughing, actually. Strap in. It gets torchy. (This was called Pumpkin-eater Tango, but I realized the other day that it was Jack Sprat who was so lean and his wife was chubby. Thus the title change.)
Sorry, this is as close as I could get to the subject.
JACK SPRAT TANGO
A lone figure strides onto the stage
His stance proud and straight
He extends his arm 
To invite her to him
He catches her intent gaze
With one of his own. 
Heat sizzles, arcing between them
At a jerk of his head, 
She approaches,
Gliding sinuously across the floor
She stops.
He advances
Stalking slowly around her,
Worshiping.
He clicks to a stop,
Broom-like limbs at attention.
She slinks toward him
Jiggling only slightly
Pillows gowned in crimson,
Her hair a mass of black-ish curls
She flows to a halt.
Smolders to match his.
He clasps her with a grip of chihuahua
She envelops him like a corn dog on a stick.
Their eyes trap each others' gazes
A fluid step
Then another
They stalk the room in perfect sync
"You are my heart, my soul, my life," he whispers.
His deep bass voice sultry.
"I worship the goddess you are."
He turns them, and they step across the floor.
"And you, my sweetest of all husbands
Are concave in all the right places.
You fill my heart with longing."
He whips them around
She glides almost gracefully
Halfway to the floor.
"My knee," she says, breath chugging.
"Sorry," he says.
He catches her, pulling her back to her feet
With only a slight groan.
His crimson face matches her gown.
For a few beats they circle,
Heat filling their eyes and faces.
He turns them again
Catching her with a sharp elbow.
"Oof," she says, daintily.
"Sorry," he whispers, 
Running his tongue across his teeth.
"Come to me, my sweet," he whispers.
He tugs her to him
A fleeting look of terror flicks through his eyes,
Replaced by a suave grin as
She again engulfs him in satin.
"Bella mia," he says,
Kissing her senseless.
As the music stops,
He dips her.
RIIIIIIIIIPPPP!!!!
Is it her scarlet gown
Or his rotator cuff?
A smirk and a wink.

©2019 by H. Linn Murphy

And now for my Windspark poem. If you, like me, have no idea what this is and want to find out, go here. Otherwise, proceed at your own risk...:o)



I dreamed
I was a rivet
On the Titanic
Waiting to prove the experts wrong
Fallibly


©2019 by H. Linn Murphy




Monday, April 15, 2019

Day 15--National Poetry Month--Tyburn Poem--Spiders--Free Verse--Connecting




So this is a Tyburn poem. Like a baby, it's difficult to birth but fun to have out in the world. If you'd like to try this challenging form, go here for information about it.




 Spider
Weaving
Biting
Spinning 
Jumping
Thousands of young, weaving, biting, flick
Land on your face, spinning, jumping, sick
 © 2019 by H. Linn Murphy

Until I got Stephanie's new poem form, this one was my place holder:


Beep.
Ba-beep.
Two robots 
Passing, busy
Unaware 
Each in its own sphere
Perform   tasks without   thought
oNo          need to interact,          ooo
ooo                  Or question                   ooo
Or c                   onsider feeli                  ings
Will              they ever find a            way 
Or a reason 
To come
Toge    ther
Bef      ore
Rust    claims
Their      tiny
   Metal        motors?

© 2019 by H. Linn Murphy
 

Sunday, April 14, 2019

Day 14--National Poetry Month---Couplets--What of Maria Tallchief?--Free Verse Poem--Dust

I'm putting this one out here because I woke up with Maria in my head (one of my ballet idols when I was young and on toe) and she wouldn't leave. These are couplets, so if you want to know more about couplets, go here. Time to get your toe shoes on and rosin up!



WHAT OF MARIA TALLCHIEF?

Osage girl with blood on your toes
Powdery rosin tickles your nose

Sewing on ribbons and whispering things
You limber up in the dusky wings 

And then like a raven your body takes flight
You glide 'cross the stage like a barrow wight

Grace like a swan with your form full of splendor
Pirouetting and leaping; you are no pretender

The music marries you to the light and the air
As you fill it with motion seemingly without care

You've managed to catch the great Ballanchine's eye
As your partner balances you high in the sky

Just as your dance steps have captured the floor
You're winning his heart and he's ready for more.

Career like a torch, you have painted the sky
Little Osage girl who has managed to fly

Everyone hears about Anna Pavlova
Whose Dying Swan hit the stage like a nova

But what do they say of Maria Tallchief?
Who captured the stage like a talented thief

Oklahoma's young daughter so graceful in flight
Your sparkling grand jetes light up the night. 

© 2019 by H. Linn Murphy



If you'd like to know more about the amazing Maria Tallchief, here's your link. 

And here's a free verse I wrote last year.

DUST

She stands at the mirror
Gazing at a creature of dust,
Broken, desiccated, wilted, cracked
Waiting to blow away in the next stiff breeze.
Painted in patina of shattered dreams.
Who is this denizen of the deep desert silences?
Who is this ..........................Demi-being with a 
Depth-scraped..........................................Hole for a
Heart? ..........................................What keeps
Her ...............................................Afloat in a 
...................................................Storm? How
............................................Will she know
........................................When it's time
................................... To go? And 
.....................................Who can 
..........................Answer for
..........................This thing
....................In the mirror?
.................Not I, say 
................They all.
..................She has dug 
..................This hole
.................Herself.
...................Her head
..................Is full of
..................Cobwebs.
.................We have
..................No need
................Of her
.................Nonsense.

................She
................Is wrong
...............About it
...............All.


© 2018 by H. Linn Murphy

Saturday, April 13, 2019

Day 13--National Poetry Month--ABAB Poem--Traveler's Envy Blues--Triplets--The One-Note Dove

I'm doing this ahead of time, so I'm not sure Stephanie has this for her poem for today. If not, I'll come back later. This one was itching at me to get written.



TRAVELER'S ENVY BLUES
Everyone is going sweet places
They're trotting all over the globe
They're packing their bags and suitcases
And taking a swimsuit and robe.

They're off to Cambodia,Australia
They're flying to Nepal and Iceland
On the road to Canada and Italia
Budapest, Stockholm, and Japan.

They're swimming and climbing and frolicking
And dancing the hora and cancan.
They're snorkeling, base jumping, kayaking
Exploring dark caves in sampans.

And I? Well I'm banking the home fires.
I'm shopping and holding the fort.
I'm sitting with babies and snow tires,
Doing homework and laundry--a mort.

I, too, would just love to be packing
For someplace exotic and fun. 
But I'm stuck home the laundry attacking
Making lunch, pulling weeds in the sun.

I wish I had something to dream of
Instead of the very same grind.
Flying into the sunset with my love
Would be a great present to find.

But it all takes that thing we call money
That's something that's in short supply.
We need a new car something funny.
Termites ate our house in July.

So now I am stuck here just dreaming
As I scheme all my money to save.
If I hear one more tale I'll go screaming (kidding)
But I'll look at your pictures and rave.

©2019 by H. Linn Murphy


So here are some triplets. If you want to know the difference between a triplet and a tercet, go here.



THE ONE-NOTE DOVE
Dove out cheeping in the yard
You make writing poems hard
Want to hoist you from petard
©2019 by H. Linn Murphy



DOVE'S ANSWER
You complain of how I sing
You're not singing anything
Your voice makes my eardrums ring
©2019 by H. Linn Murphy

Friday, April 12, 2019

Day 12--National Poetry Month--Nonet--T4 Bacteriophage

Today I'm doing a nonet, which you can learn about here. I'm taking up the gauntlet and rising to the challenge today. So this phage is for you, Stephanie...rofl. Today's poem is going to be a monster poem about a bacteriophage--a bacteria which eats other bacteria, namely e coli. You can learn about that in easy-to-understand terms here. And if you want to get your scientific freak on, go here. My nonet awaits:

Artist's rendition (since shrinking down there to take its picture isn't in my wheelhouse)

Monster bacteriophage so small
With complete single-mindedness
Making war on other germs
Search, destroy, and copy
Such powerful strength
You get it done
Though so small
Mighty
"Rich"

©2019 by H. Linn Murphy