The Nickel

Deep in the mines

Where copper can’t be found

Lives a breed of Goblin

Deep in the mines

The color of the rocks confuse

A mischievous breed of Goblin

Deep in the mines

The Nickel won’t find

Any bits of copper

Deep in the mines

Without copper to claim

The nickel creates its mischief

Deep in the mines

Miners may find

Misfortunes, sometimes-deadly misfortunes

Even though no copper could be found

Townsfolk blame the miner’s woes

Upon Goblins, Goblins called the Nickel

According to German Folklore, the Nickel is a Goblin that inhabit the mines where copper was thought to be in abundance.  Yet once they realize the've been duped by the color of the rocks, the Nickel is said to cause misfortune to the miners there.

Stop on by Poetics over at D'Verse, where I'll be hosting an evening of Creatures from Mythology, Folklore and Fairy Tales. Stop by to read or even better, share in on the fun by composing your own poem about creatures.

Cats Vs. Dogs

In the morning, after first stretch

The not-yet-awaken snarl in contempt

Playfully in the afternoon they jump about,

Hopping from chair to chair, from room to room,

At suppertime, they calmly wait

For leftovers and scraps to fill their plates,

Vying for dominance, they stand their ground,

Assertiveness of appetite, here, friends square against

Brother and kin, all for that natural, necessary inhibition

Yet when time for sleep comes for all,

To Switzerland they do flee, and revel in

The comfort of a bedding of neutrality

A quick one I've been working on.  Not sure it's completely finished yet, but thought it read well enough to share, any comments will be welcome.  Would you think this needs a bit more trimming, or perhaps an additional stanza or so to really hammer the overriding metaphor down?  

It's Tuesday, and we all know what that means. Yep, it's time for another Open Link Night over at D'verse.  At 3pm the pub doors will open up, and the ultra-talented community of poets will begin to flow through the doors.  Stop on by for some incredible pints of poetry and while you're there, why not share a poem of your own.

A Sampling of Short Verse

Shackled!

Breath—impeded.

Motility—a myth.

Tortured by your own worst warden,

Damning!

Cinquain. 2-4-6-8-2 syllable count

It was all a sham

The song never played

The coupling of palms never happened

The eyes refused to meet

She never existed

A palinode is a verse that takes back or retracts something originally said.  This is a variation on that. Here, I'm taking a fictitious memory and in what appears to be several moments of reflection, revealing how the previously remembered is understood to be false.

The impossible is often only improbable,

Improbable lines often connect in secrecy,

Secrecy is the mark of lieutenants and vampires,

Vampires are more afraid of themselves than you are they,

(They) never asked for such appellations

Anadiplosis is a poetic tool where a line begins with the last word of the previous line. Variations are possible as well, (i.e. ending with an emotion, and beginning with same emotion etc..).  Here I used it to create a short verse, where the tool itself is the feature.  

Today, heaven lost friends,

Friends, lost heaven today

Love, through ascension; Shrapnel was removed

Removed, was shrapnel; ascension through love

Antimetabole is a poetic tool where a line is the reversal of the previous line.  Here, I simply used two of these, combining the four lines into a short verse of it's own.

Vague stories, imbuing impossible metamorphoses

I, alone, transcended eternity’s illumination?

Rhopalic Verse is a tool where each word of a line adds a syllable to the word before.  1-2-3-4-5 is the climbing sequence for each of these lines. Combined together, these two lines create a very short poem.

Head on over to D'verse, where for this week's Poetics, I'm hosting an evening of short verse.  The doors open at 3pm.  See you there.

Lunar Possession

Vociferous stranger, vacant you swoon

Dispersing anathemas with each step

Whence meters find their distant promenade

Benumbed sentry traipsing beneath grey moons

With the countenance of dark secrets kept

As rays lower upon your unmarked grave

The furtive glance secretes visions of ruin

As spindrifts thrash forth their echoic stet

Forever haunting the taciturn stave

Hunger asphyxiates the sated tune

While the parched arrhythmia slowly wept

For the heart knows what the enemy craves

The boy shook, as the thirsting neon crept

Whereas a mother’s love, prayed while he slept

  

 Over at D'Verse, Sam presents us a unique twist to the sonnet form for this week's Formforall, something he calls the Trireme Sonnet.  It was certainly fun putting this piece together, think I wound up deviating from the pentameter a bit in places, but other than that, followed the 10 syllable, ABC-ABC-ABC-ABC-(Choice of AA, BB, or CC Heroic Couplet).  I definitely recommend you check out his article and see what the poets of D'Verse came up with. Cheers!

Found From Within The Talon's Side

A flagrant volition—a violation, an action and a scowl—determined aggravation from the tongue of pawn—intrigued by the rapturous ideology presented in the late—by an allegorical phantasm of chance, an echoic beauty—one whom not even time could prevent the inviting allegation to conceive it’s concocted arrhythmia to the weather-worn hopes of one as he—

 Held in awe, by a desperate princess, bearing fruitful presents and an unholy proclamation of some love-stricken scheme that preyed endearingly, to every impossible shard of dream ever awoken from—

Encased was a promise, a scented sentence if detected, for this vow, was considerable in all it stood for to the two at hand, yet dynamically catastrophic by those in opposition.  This love, between two such as these, was in fact, in direct disobedience of the caste each were forced to lead their lives upon.

Sufferance would indeed be remarked. Damnation would, in all effect, be set in spades, even as twin bounties corrugate between the sky and all the Heavens it protects, and the reams of suet still freshly stifled, as the heart’s contents remained—where still set the bone, strangling upon the saltiest of teardrops ever wrung.

Vitality was denied through end of breath. Parturient strands unabashed by the chaotic consequence at bay—unintended for, yet persisting nonetheless, were its strides—a collateral

Striation, bound by sinew’s string, looping through the bitter entanglements of the amnesia stricken torso to which the factions fortuitously release, divide—segregating lower lip, pierced by steel and ember and the upper manifestations—the mutations estranged by first sin’s blaspheming kiss.

Protracted involvement. Sacrilege upon the altar of the

Withered. Flesh of songbird, broken wing—yet clung it had, dearly, paying ultimate price to perform it’s duty, clinging tightly with pride, onto the message placed within its’ talon’s

Side.

Tuesday is once again upon us, and that, of course, brings about the greatest night of poetry around.  Open Link Night is a world-wide phenomenon, where lover's of poetry get to read, listen to, write and share poetry of all type.  Make sure you stop by D'Verse starting today at 3pm.  Cheers!