“My Quicksilver Life”

The cue ball’s measured tap now makes its move.
Yet man predicts but seconds in its fate.
Like life, quicksilver hearts are not defined.
Tomorrow’s rain, a non-conclusive clime.
If Chaos rules our days , accept his ways
as juggled plates, airborne with jostling hands.
Accepting Now is where we are sublime.

If Science can predict but seconds, four,
then why should we pretend to conquer more?

(Prompt: use ‘Quicksilver’ in exactly 66 word piece.)

 woman puppet  th

“The Gladiator”

 

Epitome of male stupidity

when warriors wage they have control as thus:

He stands, alone,  amidst bloodthirsty Roman crowd.

Our hero waits to see what will emerge.

His metal mail, his honed and sharpened sword

no defense for his host behind the door.

A buzzing crowd of bees he best explore

than meet this group of ladies he’ll implore;

his harried HAREM full of female views.

“The Doves”

 

lovebirds4-best-2(Photo by Jacqueline Casey)

This week’s gargleblaster ultimate question: “Why do birds suddenly appear?”

 

“The Doves”

My messengers, two doves, of silent wing
did settle just outside my windowsill.
In early light, they stopped their lofty sing.
My knowledge of their wistful pause did thrill:

Heard low moan from their peaceful breast:
“Love calls all to the test.”

“A Poem for Your Pocket”

“Tell it To My Heart”

Though Heaven acts as
anchor for my soul,
a lofty tether is
your earthly kiss.
Since Heaven’s orb shines
brightest in your eyes,
I’ll  choose that crown
of gold:  your blissful sigh.

                                                  The kiss no one wants                                                 to miss;  furtive, alarming                                                       as life rushes by...
Photo by Robert Doisneau

Day 24 April, 2014,  PAD Challenge, Writer’s Digest, Prompt: use “tell it to____”

“Self-Discovery”

 

“Self-Discovery”

Discover claws as your critique unfolds.
Though prisoner , I know not my accuser.
So doomed, indeed, deserve to see who told
this banning of my words by that abuser.

Alas, he is a coward, I surmise
for address is unknown as is his face.
His judgment and my plea is no surprise
I stand throughout  his poem in disgrace.

Oh, heaven help if I should falter now;
plead guilty to a cowardice of soul!
Allow the judge’s gavel, damning how
my puny metaphors should not be told.

I shy away and slink behind the Truth:
I must bite back, myself, with firmer tooth.

Last Valentine

original fabric figure designed by Jacqueline casey
Original fabric figure designed and photographed by Jacqueline Casey.

 

Last Valentine

I send a single, silken note with lace.

My whispered chant of love an offering here.

My pen now bends upon the parchment face;

my pause with solemn thought as in a prayer.

I halt and scratch the surface of a dream;

seems all my sense now frail with disbelief.

There is no logic to the shattered theme.

Some impulse guides the hopeless heart bereaved.

Still, quiet churns that inner voice for you

just as the rain will drop to bend the leaf;

just as the white-out turns my heart slate blue,

I am a part of universal grief.

The world will not forget you, Valentine,

so long as I remember you, sublime.

April 24, 2014 “Tell it to My Heart”

 

                                                  The kiss no one wants                                                 to miss;  furtive, alarming                                                       as life rushes by...
Photo: Robert Doisneau

“Tell it To My Heart”

Though Heaven acts as
anchor for my soul,
a lofty tether is
your earthly kiss.

Since Heaven’s orb shines
brightest in your eyes,
I’ll  choose that crown
of gold:  your blissful sigh.

Day 24 April, 2014,  PAD Challenge, Writer’s Digest, Prompt: use “tell it to____”

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.