23 Oct 2017
by lynn__
in epanalepsis
Tags: bread, grandmother, heart, pieces, toddlers, toys

chunks of myself run
around as toddlers who
hold hunks of my heart.
my fragmented thoughts
consider their future. it’s a
sadly fragmented world.
pieces of puzzles and
toys scattered on floor;
ordered home in pieces
spread a slice of bread
with peanut butter n’ jelly,
enjoying this slice of life.
“Epanalepsis” is a literary device developed into a new poetry form by Mick Talbot with repeated words, according to this pattern:
RED: Repeated words in epanalepsis don’t have to be identical, but must be in context.
BLUE: Epanalepsis can occur across two sentences.
GREEN: Same word used at the beginning and end of a sentence.
VIOLET: Epanalepsis can occur within a clause of a sentence.
(I used violet instead of Mick’s mauve because it shows up better on my page)
12 Oct 2017
by lynn__
in tan renga
“Tan renga” form: one poet writes haiku, second poet responds with two new lines…you can read more at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai
melting into the sea
the full moon
leaves a candle bright
© Jane Reichhold (1937-2016)
boat bobs gently on water
fisherman waiting nibble
© lynn__

image from pixabay
09 Oct 2017
by lynn__
in quadrille, Uncategorized
Tags: courage, fear, hope, love
Keeping hope alive with dVerse Poets in a “quadrille” of exactly 44 words…
hope dangles around courage’s neck,
name etched on soldier’s dog tag.

image by lynn
hope throbs within young love’s heart,
hands held in first awkward clasp.
hope gazes into future’s eyes,
grandchildren carry family name.
hope laughs in fear’s masked face,
dove flies home after violent storm.
08 Oct 2017
by lynn__
in haiku
Tags: amethyst, crow, grapes, leaf, October
Carpe Diem Haiku Kai challenge to distill longer poem into haiku…
slow down, October,
single leaf and crow wait for
ripe amethyst grapes
October poem by Robert Frost (1874-1963):
O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
To-morrow’s wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call.
To-morrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow,
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know;
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away;
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—
For the grapes’ sake along the wall.
(Source: http://www.poets.org)
04 Oct 2017
by lynn__
in haibun
Tags: apple, corn, crops, fall, frost, soybeans, winter
Haibun is a Japanese form of prose and poetry (haiku) together. I’m joining Victoria with dVerse Poets writing haibun about “first frost’s voice” (shimo no koe).
We actively anticipate the first frost of fall, working as a team ahead of the weather’s uncertain clock. The last tomatoes, some green ones, must be claimed off the vines and colorful peppers plucked from dying garden. This home-grown produce is chopped with harvested onions into tantalizing picante sauce to be admired in pint jars on shelf before smeared on tortilla chips.
Our prodigious pair of apple trees generously offer basketfuls of blushing fruit to family and friends willing to pick. The dropped or blemished fruit are treats rolled under fence to eager cows. Contentment wafts on spiced fragrance of apple-pie-in-a-jar syrup that simmers in large pot on basement stove. Steam from water bath canner spreads warm humidity indoors.
Fall rain dampens farmers’ spirits, swells soybeans in their pods, and muddies fields. “A killing frost is what we need” for corn stalks to die so matured ears plump with kernels can be harvested. The farmer checks weather forecast every night. At last, it steals in with the dawn, silently smothering the grass and finishing off the last droopy flowers.
icing on orchard
may ruin or ripen crops
winter’s first whisper

photo by lynn
01 Oct 2017
by lynn__
in haiku, senryu
warm apple cider
we sip fall, wrapped in blanket
spice perfumes chill air
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