Poetry, sestina


i sat with a nomad who had a deep voice
he was a bit tired not feeling all that great
today started the annual horse racing season
here was a holiday, a tradition, with a horse race
the nomad talked calmly with little fanfare or play
the role he read was perfect, i think he was a convict

not much chatter from the clamed up convict
he sorta lost interest once my interest started to play
time slowed and hunger growled i hoped fruit was in season
sitting in the coolness made the morning great
the horses in a cloudy canter headed towards the race
i wish there was more time with the nomad and his voice

when he speaks he opens a door with his voice
especially when he starts towards his horse to play
his horse responds knowing how close the season
the nomad and his horse will soon line up for the race
he was interesting this nomad who was also a convict
wouldn’t have noticed except those scars were great

once the he stood up his nomad height was great
was he taller than his horse that was to run the race
would it matter or come into play
wanted to ask the nomad, is this the season
as a person he would answer, as a convict
and a nomad not sure, would i hear his voice

sometimes he talks as if he has no voice
and when i see the nomad near his horse and they play
as if there was nothing else and there was no race
the smallness of the space the horse and the convict
within this arena the nomad his horse how great
once a year it comes by way of the season

looking around one could tell it was the season
flying multi-colored banners announcing the race
a few instruments soon came into play
the musicians arrived in one be quiet of a voice
from afar i could see his horse and the convict
the nomad will soon be racing towards a win so great

i watched him leave, the nomad and horse, who was a convict
it didn’t feel so great, already i missed his mysterious voice
the season passed and the race finished, it was a great play

day 12 napowrimo
2021 April PAD challenge write a poem using at least three of the following six words: convict, great, play, race, season, and voice. Extra credit for using all six words. Extra extra credit for writing a sestina….

poet’s note: wanted to attempt a sestina. it has been awhile. i enjoyed it and will attempt to use it again soon.

minelovemisery's menagerie, napowrimo 2011, Poetry, sunday whirl, wordle


tame 2day
shiny and soft
starting still
morning chime caress
the warm sun sings

5 o’clock shadow
lame and loaded
day ending dynamite
sunsetting pearl

tethered to a testimonial
erotic simmering pocket rocks
the smoke gets in my eyes
contact collide

wrap around my heart
loose change jingle
a new found fortune
11 days and counting

Sunday Whirl Wordle 498
2021 April PAD Challenge prime number poem
MMLM Sunday Writing Prompt, Freedom

minelovemisery's menagerie, Poetry, saturday mix


incoming reality
fast moving train
strong winds wild storm
too a sharp turn

tree limb twisting
root bound hope
terra firma cleave

crumbling core
shattered bones
it’s never gonna be the same

bend finding purpose
potent patches applied
needle and thread
mend a perfect seam

poet’s note: day 10 of napowrimo and all is well. taking my cue from MMM saturday mix, opposing forces pick one break and mend or imprison and free



walking down streets
midnight to morning

the coolness and quiet
comfort the calamity

sometimes there’s a break
where all becomes unraveled

streetlights stop humming
and sidewalks lose their way

comfortable comfort
step starting soliloquy

i’m gonna keep going

poets note: each day the grief subsides and shimmers… she becomes farther and farther as she steps away… yet she’s not left at all.