Wordle #123

Wordle #123:(filters, springs, keep, bitter, cries, enough, South, train, fierce, out, pieces, gusting)

“Lincoln’s Train”

We watched the SOUTH TRAIN as it GUSTed forth:
so pitiful, she pierced the air with CRIES.
Her halting engine came from OUT the North;
funereal and FIERCE her flaming sighs.

Oh, BITTER sings this TRAIN from out the North
she stops at every hollow;  leaves a PIECE
of longing for what might have been brought forth:
a longing for what we, today, want eased.

ENOUGH! ENOUGH!  this train must slow and turn
a FILTERED message from its jaws must SPRING
and face the hate of late that we would spurn
and in its place a sprig of lilac bring.

Let slow rock of this train be lullaby:
For Lincoln and his time remembered, sigh.

The Baffled Heart

The Baffled Heart

A favored photo on the shelf I keep:
My love, I know that look upon his face.
I’ve learned to read his eyes though now he sleeps.
He poses questions I cannot erase.

“Where are we found when all of this is past?
I only ask, as you’re the one around…”
“Where am I, love, behind this pane of glass?
I’m with you; yet I’m neither near nor found?”

I dust the mantle where my love now stands;
our conversation opens many doors.
His looks do baffle with their bold command.
“I cannot answer, love, what you implore!”

“I know not why you’re gone so long before;
don’t ask me such a question, anymore!”

“A Quiet Space”

“A Quiet Space”

Where prayer so muted
as the humming-bird
whose pause is heard
among her hurried ohm,
her wings seem stilled
tipped over open bud
yet hover; huddle home.
Silent is her poem.

The Teddy Girls

The Teddy Girls

“My world is just as smart as yours”, they said.
“My hair piled high is simply fashion , sly.
I am a well-bred, English girl who’s fed
the latest fashion magazines to spy.”

“My place a flirting, highfalutin’, sir;
My jeans now turned conspicuously dared.
To show the best part of the leg; demurs
to show less than Edwardian would share.

Our world might shock old Edward, I would say
but girls are more contemporary, now.
We’ve much more pride than in the hanky days;
we’ve noted we are not man’s slave, somehow.

The masculine lapel; the tailored coat
does give a flair; fair warning to the bloat!

Bullfinch’s Mythology

“Bullfinch’s Mythology”

Greeks say that Eros, born of chaos
clings to Erebus and Earth.
Born of delight from the egg of night,
filled with fervor; full of worth.

Eros issues from her womb more love,
from such darkness sets men free
from the egg of night, born of delight;
as duplicitous does man conceive.

Eros arrows pierces pain in life;
takes away consuming grief,
born of delight from the egg of night
stealing all man’s mem`ry like a thief.

The monster, Cronus, conspired but failed:
endless love contains no time.
From the egg of night, born of delight;
birth of Eros forever divine.

(inspiration and source for this poem:  found a paperback of Bullfinch’s Mythology at the flea market for ten cents! )

The FORM:  The ZaniLa Rhyme is an interesting, modern repeating form  created by Laura Lamarca, and consists of at least two 4-line stanzas (although three or more stanzas are preferable).
RHYME SCHEME:   Stanza 1=  a,b,c1/c2, b   Stanza 2=a,b,c2/c1, b     Stanza 3=a,b,c1,c2,b  and so on… Syllable count: 9,7, 9,9

As you can see, Line 3 is a Repeating Line, which contains an internal rhyme and is repeated in each alternate stanza as in the first stanza. Each even stanza line contains the same line but with the two parts of the internal rhyme swapped. There is no maximum poem length.

“Isolating the Pain”

“Isolating the Pain”

She’s separated from the life she knew.
She’s closed the door and finds some solace where
a mean and sep`rate silence does ensue
as once, two souls together, harbored there.

Upon a sep`rate sea her heart is lost;
their common anchor broken in that storm.
So, separation has alarming cost;
an isolation not without some harm.

Now sep`rate in that liberated space:
her isolated place behind closed doors.
Detach`ed is her haunted heart by grace;
and does allow the separation more.

But memories, alone, still toll that knell;
holds isolated thoughts she cannot quell.

Prompt for Our Lost Jungle 8/13/2013.
Write an anaphora poem. Also known as epanaphora, anaphora is the “repetition of a word [or words] at the beginning of two or more successive verses, clauses, or sentences.” A lot of poets consider anaphora just the repetition of the same word at the beginning of each line. However, anaphora can be a lot more diverse, and subtle. Sometimes the poet uses the same word/phrase; sometimes they use one word for a while, and switch to another in the next section/stanza.

“In This House”

In this House

I’m greeted in this house by wagging tail.
He grabs that latest toy to share with me
and from his lungs, he makes a sound; a wail
that sings to tell of happiness and glee.

I’m greeted in this house with shining eyes:
He’s Malcolm and he’s happy I have come
to say hello and speak with him, ‘surprised’:
the total of our voices, how they hum.

I’m greeted in this house with love too much:
we sit together, watching dog TV,
content , we sit and silently we watch;
this dog connection still a mystery.

Acceptance in this house; his finest hour
for Malcolm does sustain us with his pow`r.

Sunday Whirl

Sunday Whirl: Write a poem using the following: “striking, race, illuminates, hitched, concrete, pounding, circle, strain,wallow, scatter, incentive, stark”

“Titan vs Nature”

Henry M. Flagler’s train across the sea:
a striking image in a race for time
illuminates his personality.
He hitched his wagon to such things sublime!

A dreamer; Henry churned his century.
A modest man; built concrete by the shore;
defied the pounding waves to circle free
or strain against the Breakers Hotel moored.

His train from Jacksonville to Largo, quick
condemned by some as stark insanity;
incentive for mosquitoes scattered thick
mid hurricane of Thirty-Five in Keys.

Old Flagler stands among the titans  tall,
who struggled ‘gainst the storm and gave his all.

(Henry Flagler, hard-working millionaire and owner of Standard Oil, took the opportunity to ‘play’, finally, in his golden years. It was during this period his dream of a train across the ocean to Key Largo, Florida  originated.  Nature said “No way” but not before Henry gave Nature a run for his money. I can recommend a great read! “Last Train to Paradise” by Les Standiford, 2002.