Estrangement – August 28, 2014


The Entrance to the Cemetary Awhen did your love become this entanglement?
these barbed wire bails on a battle field
this corpse of beautiful ideal …
impeding me to freely walk …
to talk, to breath, to write …
your litigious tirades of me, me, me …
these endless heartless harassments …

are leading me into isolation …
and a slow arid spiritual death.

(C) G.s.k. ’14

Three Word Wednesday:

Entanglement, noun: The action or fact of entangling or being entangled; a complicated or compromising relationship or situation; an extensive barrier, typically made of interlaced barbed wire and stakes, erected to impede enemy soldiers or vehicles

Death, noun: The action or fact of dying or being killed; the end of the life of a person or organism.

Heartless, adjective: Displaying a complete lack of feeling or consideration.

Wordleing on Monday – July 14, 2014


The wordle contains 12 words those words are: 1. Grudge 2. Numinous 3. Malady 4. Locket 5. Sentimental 6. Recover 7. Grain 8. Linen 9. Knees 10. Wilt 11. Silver 12. Hollow

The Lady Mantis

 In the hollow of her silver locket
‘Twas the portrait of her handsome beau.
He’d wooed her long upon his knees,
For want of her mysterious numinous glow …

The sore malady of her broken heart,
Alas, kept her from sentimental joys …
She’d never recovered fully from the hurt
That had wilted her youthful poise …

He merited not her blackened grudge
For his heart was as pure as snow,
Court her he did the summer long until,
Warmth on her cheeks did glow …

They laid upon the white silken linen
After  that last summer’s day of love
She’d placed his image in her locket …
To remember him, her sweet cooing dove.

She killed him after their delights,
With three grains of poison in his wine …
Then sipped she too from his dark glass
For she feared he’d leave her in time.

 In the hollow of her silver locket
‘Twas the portrait of her handsomet beau.
He’d wooed her long upon his knees,
For want of her mysterous numinous glow …

Mindlovesmisery Menagerie – Wordle

Toska – June 22, 2014 Kyrielle Sonnet

William Blake

William Blake


To never hear your voice again
To never see your open smile
To know each long day will begin,
Wondering if life is worthwhile …

Long is the morn now that your gone.
Often, it’s just an empty trial.
I’d slumber too and not go on …
Wondering if life is worthwhile …

Where are your kisses in the morn?
(Ah to pretend yet for awhile,
That loneliness may be foresworn.)
Wondering if life is worthwhile …

To never hear your voice again ..
Wondering if life is worthwhile.

Written for Mindlovesmisery Menagerie Prompt #61 – Toska

Stalking Love – Sonnet

You came to me downtrodden by love
She’d seemed such a vivacious girl
You thought she’d be your own sweet dove
For she’d sent your heart into a whirl.

Yet before too very long it was done,
You saw that she’d only break your heart.
Her demands upon you were just for one.
And so you felt it better to live apart.

Now she stalks you day and night
Hounding you, you’ve no more peace
Yet, you wonder if she might be right
That you’d left her just for your caprice.

No! She’s got a predator’s mind my friend
And there’s nothing there for you to amend.



Life’s Door – Sestina



Thinking that life was just a picnic,
I lived my days never worrying about tomorrow.
Then old age began to knock upon my door,
Bending my knees and weighing my back.
And though the party is far from over,
I contemplate a old woman’s destiny.


I played at life and thought I knew my destiny.
I know it wasn’t always a sunny country picnic.
I drank in the sunshine, played, now it’s nearly over.
I wait for the knock, the last tomorrow,
I’m reminded that to dust, I’ll have to go back,
I’ll walk beyond the veil and close the door.


Death hides behind a battered door,
And each of us has our special day and destiny.
We’ll travel forward then and never look back.
No loving, singing, no bright picnic.
There’ll be no new tomorrow,
We’ll reach the final Game Over!


But now I’m still here and the game’s not over!
The only passages are through my front door,
I have a today, there’s still a tomorrow!
I know nothing of fate or destiny.
I still think of life as a party or picnic,
Harder to enjoy though with a bad back…


Wonder strikes me as I look back.
I think of my younth when love was over.
Wailing, that I’d never have another picnic,
Thinking life was over, and closed the door
Thinking I’d lived a star-crossed destiny,
All was lost,  there was no tomorrow.


Yet what does youth know of tomorrow?
There’s no past upon which to look back!
Youth knows not that they’ve yet to make their destiny,
They’d give up the game before it’s over!
They’d run too quickly to cross the door!
From which there will never be another picnic.


One day there’ll be no tomorrow, live fully before it’s over.
Youth, get  back from somber death’s door.
Choose your destiny, choose a sunny picnic!


This morning I came across this complicated poem, the sestina over at Ye Olde Foole’s place.

I have to admit I like the challenge of some of these older forms.  This one was created in the twelfth century and was used by the French troubadours of that era.  I had to do it in Word, it was too complicated to do here directly.  I color coded the end words of the first line in order to write the verses that followed.

First stanza, 1 ..2 ..3 ..4 ..5 ..6
Second stanza, ..6 ..1 ..5 .. 2 ..4 ..3
Third stanza, ..3 ..6 ..4 ..1 ..2 ..5
Fourth stanza, ..5 ..3 ..2 ..6 ..1 ..4
Fifth stanza, ..4 ..5 ..1 ..3 ..6 ..2
Sixth stanza, ..2 ..4 ..6 ..5 ..3 ..1

Concluding tercet:
middle of first line ..2, end of first line ..5
middle of second line ..4, end of second line..3
middle if third line ..6, end of third line ..1

If you’d like to try the form…please link here so I can read them!

Līgo Haibun Challenge – Picture Prompt


Blue Mountains

Dark winter.  Mountains often seem blue, how much more so when weighed down with melancholy.

The argument had started over a banality, as arguments often did.  The coffee pot left on over night, the toaster setting too high.  Nothing really important.  Under the banality though was angry loneliness; love replaced with resentment.  This trip had taken many years, but now the final destination was near.  Little arrows, for years, launched under the guise of loving suggestions.  Artfully done so that no objection could be made without her seeming unreasonable and unwilling to adjust to the “other”.  A slow colonization had taken place.  Once discovering the manipulation, inevitably rebellion grew.

She slammed the door as she went out, heading towards the mountain path not far from her home…the mist rose and she felt free as she breathed the cold air deeply in.  Then the tears came.

Once love brought her laughter, glad tears!
Anger now gifted her sad tears.

Conflict sown daily into your love
Will reap emptiness and slow sad tears


Welcome to a new Līgo Haibun ChallengeLigo Haibun is experimenting with different forms of poetry as the haibun’s poetic ending.  But these are the instructions:

“This time we’d like the connection between the 2 lines of the ghazal couplet to be oblique and not direct, and to have the same number of syllables in each line. This is quite important. In a haibun with a minighazal as its verse component, 2 X 2 lines seems nice, with the last line rhyming with the first two as a refrain line. A longer set of verse may outweigh the prose. Ghazal are often about unrequitted love. This means that along with the prose please use haiku in any form and/or minighazal and pathya vat.”