The First Time I Saw- Trifecta Challenge 100


The first time I saw,
Your eyes…
There was the void she’d left;
That dark cloud of grief,
Told me your Sun,
Now set,
Would ne’er rise at dawn.
Your smile…
Like a dead moon
Gives no light.


This is dedicated to a dear friend, who lost his wife some months ago and has since slowly gone down-hill in his grief, from one of the happiest men I’d ever met, he has withered to the shadow of who he was.

Written for Trifecta:  Trifextra100 Challenge:

“This week’s Trifextra challenge. This week we are asking you to count syllables. And words. It’s a lot of math for those of us who might be more accustomed to dealing with words, but we’re confident you can pull it off.

We are asking for a 33-word response to the following snippet:

The first time I saw. . .

Here’s the catch: all of your 33 words must be one syllable each. We’re going low-brow on your this week. Or not. Can you class it up under these restrictions? Give us your best.

To clarify, we are giving you 5 words. We want another 33 from you, for a grand total of 38.”

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.”

ABC Poem: Remember the lost poets

ABC Poem

Remember The Lost poets

Always thinking about them.
Beautiful poets that they were.
Curiously, I’m thinking back,
Daring my mind to move foreward.
Eventide will soon be here.
Future stories may not be written,
Glorious tales may go untold…alas,
How lonely the world is without them.
I didn’t know how much they meant to me.
Just reading their words was pure delight.
Knowing that they read mine, inspired me!
Longinly I think of them,
Memories though fond, are not enough,
Numb I sit sometimes for hours…
Onwards, I know I must go,
Proud or humble it doesn’t matter.
Quietly I bow my head and say to you:
Remember my beloved ones and others who are now gone…
Save our happiest memories…
Thank fate for the time we had, though brief,
Unwanting, to lose their inspired gift,
Veiled minds will lose verses yet to be sung,
Write with renewed originality, no clones,
Xeroxed copies, sad imitations of the classics
Your verses are alive and serene within us,
Zen harmonized we will create new poems.

Trifecta Week: 103

Use the third definition of the word Remember:
3 a : to keep in mind for attention or consideration

Happy Second Anniversay to Trifecta!

An edited copy:

Always thinking about them.
Beautiful poets that they were.
Curiously, I keep thinking back,
Daring my mind to move on.
Eventide will soon be here.
Future poems they will not write,
Glorious tales will go untold …
How lonely the world now, without them.
I didn’t know how much I’d miss them.
Just reading their words was pure delight.
Knowing that they read mine, inspired me!
Longingly I think of them and sigh,
Memories though fond, are not enough.
Numb I sit sometimes for hours – though
Onward, I know that I must go
(Proud or humble it doesn’t matter).
Quietly I bow my head and say:
Remember my beloved ones now gone …
Safe are your words within my happiest memories:
Thanking fate for the time we had, though brief,
United in love of poetry through our words though
Veiled,  I’ll write more verses to be read
Words written with renewed originality, not clones nor
Xeroxed copies nor sad imitations of the classics.
Your verses will live serene within me,
Zen harmonized – I will create new poems.

© G.s.k. ‘13

Now for a bit of inspiration:


Prose Poem: you walk on

Prose Poem

you walk on

There are days, when for no special reason, you wonder, what it’s all about.  Why were you born, where are you going, are you going anywhere…you don’t know, you don’t have any answers only questions, so you walk on. Continue reading

Tanka: appeal!



I read a poem
written in a great blitz form
liked and commented
I wrote a blitz poem too
I can’t find who inspired me


I’m searching for the lady who wrote the Blitz poem yesterday whom I commented with…unfortunately I couldn’t find the comment and couldn’t thank you properly for inspiring me!  Please make contact!

Haibun: The Swings


The Swings

We bought the children’s swing set when they were respectively 4 and 2 years old.  It was a lovely spring day and laughing, we read the silly instructions twice before we were able to mount the frame and swings.  Mary Ellen loved flying into the air on her special seat, Michael felt he was quite the man, now that he could use “the big kids” swing. Continue reading

Quatern: Red Rose

The RoseQuatern

Red Rose

Red rose color these somber days.
For everything seems far too grey,
My heart is heavy, days grow cold,
That bridge I’ll  pass before too long.

The sparrow lays beside the walk.
Red rose color these somber days.
Chill sets into my weary bones,
That bridge is calling me: “come home”.

Tidings are of death and dying,
War and hatred among mankind.
Red rose color these somber days.
That bridge will call many today.

Would you pass your days in hatred?
Would you lose your soul to anger?
That bridge is calling to us all…
Red rose color these somber days.