Landay – August 1, 2015

File:Ivan Constantinovich Aivazovsky - Ice-Breakers on the Frozen Neva in St. Petersburg.JPG

Ice-Breakers on the Frozen Neva in St. Petersburg – Ivan Constantinovich Aivazovsky – 1877 (Wikipedia)

Ah – un brivido e un po’ di drama
Suo tocco gelido alla tramontana!

(Very loose translation … Ah – a shiver and a bit of drama – his frozen touch alla winter wind.)

The long face of winter looms before my eyes
Like that lover whom I’d hoped had gone away at last.

© G.s.k. ‘15

shadorma (a non-rhyming six-line poem in 3/5/3/3/7/5)
summer morn
yet I feel the cold
of winter
in my heart –
chilling the blood in my veins
just looking at you

© G.s.k. ‘15

Today at B&P’s Shadorma & Beyond, Paloma has directed us to write a Landay:

The landay originated in Afghanistan. It is a folk couplet that is oral in nature:

1. Twenty two syllables broken into two couplets
…(nine in the first, thirteen in the second);
2. Ends with a “ma” or “na” sound.
…This cannot be replicated in English;
3. May contain end rhyme;
4. Characterized by bawdiness, wit, and piercing truths
…despite the beauty of the language.

I wrote two landay … one in Italian because in that language it’s not impossible to use the “ma” and “na” endings … and in English because that’s my writing language and it’s a whole lot easier 🙂 .

Friday Fictioneers “The Chain” – Haibun – June 5, 2015




A chain, that keeps me close to the land, and to him.  Constructed in iron humiliation and pride, hidden in the beach of his desire.  A chain, an anchor I’d once thought it was.  The price to pay for security is sometimes very high.  Just like a chain, this feeling of suffocation.


Just beyond the hill, the sea calls: “Come to me – give up your fears – be free!”

Remembering the salt tang of wind on my face, I catch a train … leaving the abandoned chain in the wet sand – forgotten.

free sailing
broken chain
a memory

© G.s.k. ‘15


Inspired by Friday Fictioneers


Night Train – ABAB Rhyme Scheme with Wordle – March 8, 2015


this train thunders into the night
a madcap monster and dragon of lore –
running from problems and another fight
I’m going where I’ve never been before

tired of your flagellating my soul
tired of the blisters across my mind
maybe craven, surely without a goal
I’m leaving my victim-self behind

no accident brought me to this pass
but a howling gnawing demon, you
the scales now tipped like an empty glass
here take my aureole – know, I’m through

this train thunders into the night
I’ve got no special destination in mind
just moving from darkness towards the light
I’m leaving my victim-self behind

© G.s.k. ‘15

Note: This combination word combination in the wordle and the train image took me in this direction … I actually did at one time grab a midnight train in a moment of “I’ve had it up to here” and might do so some day again .. but at the moment this poem is just a fantasy or a memory.

Madcap (wildly impulsive, heedless), Blister, Strap, Aureole (a halo),  Accident, Howl, Gnaw, Flagellation (flogging, associated most frequently with BDSM or religious penitence), Craven (cowardly) Scale, Victim, Shelf

This poem is linked to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie – Wordle 50 and BJ’s Shadorma & Beyond

Hurricanes in Tea Cups – Free Verse – October 24, 2014

Pablo Picasso – crying woman – 1937

shouting – smashing objects
in his needy state of rage
his fertile imagination
harvests copious expletives
when the storm is over
slamming doors he leaves

in defensive silence
she contemplates the damage
sweeping up the aftermath –
harvesting guilt feelings
planted by his storms in tea cups
that become hurricanes

© G.s.k. ’14



Needy, Defensive, Fertile (Three Word Wednesday)

The Unmailed letter

A postal box back amongst a hedge. The G.R. is for George Regina – King George VI, predecessor to Queen Elizabeth II. …….. The white area is the collection times. Mon-Fri – 6.00pm Saturday 11.30am. Silver square at the top is the day of the next collection, in this case – TUE

It’d taken her two hours to write the letter:   rough draft, corrections, a rewording here a cancellation there.  She’d decided this time she was really through with him.  She was tired of his rages.  She’d decided that writing him she wouldn’t have to face a third degree … and worse his anger.

The door bell rang.  She looked through the video on the house phone.  It was him.  Her eye strayed to the mirror by the doorway.  Eye, because one was swollen shut where he’d hit her just the night before in one of his drunken fits.

She thought she’d just ignore him.  Maybe he’d just leave.  But no, he began to pound on her door.

“I know you’re in there, putana! Let me in!” he yelled drunkenly slurring his words.

Shaking, she took out her cell phone and dialed 113.

“Pronto, Carabinieri.  Can I help you?” a smiling voice came over the phone.

“Yes please come quickly, there’s a man at my door, he wants to kill me.”

“Presto … give me your address.” He urged her in a calm precise voice.

Too late, the door caved in.

They found her following the phone’s gps … there laid the letter, unmailed, by her body.

Sunday Photo Fiction – June 22, 2014

spfIt’s been awhile since I wrote for Sunday Photo Fiction … a great photo, why not give it a whirl!