Archive for the Poetry Category

Six Word Stories’ Halloween Story

Posted in Blogging Memes, Everday Living, Poetry, Scaddy Kiddies, Stuff And Nonsense with tags , , , , , , on 29/09/2010 by gwenguin1

It is time to get geared up for Halloween.  Shiloh and I started with a batch of our six-word stories, on a seasonal theme.  Below are the 13 I wrote, the ones I got my Mum to write, and the link to Shiloh’s posted on her blog.

 

Kiss a frog?  I’ll get warts!

Dancing shadows can excite the imagination.

Looming shadow groans.  Is it Frankenstein?

Stalking the prey.  Carefully placed footsteps.

A gleam of fangs.  Vampyre’s kiss.

To do list- tune up broom.

Blood of flitter-mouse goes in cauldron.

Harvest mandrake root for serious magic.

Tiny princess runs from bogeyman brother.

Trick or treat shout costumed children.

Goblin wants my candy.  Must run! 

Goodie bag stretches, too much candy.

One more story before bed kids.

After I had these 13 I thought of another-

Too much candy?  Take this medicine.

Mum’s are:

Zombies attack.  Flee, flee!  Too late.

Black Cats.  HIgh fence.  Night music.

In her hair, Bat’s beware- Batmobile!

Vampire Picnic.  Midnite tonight.  Blood Bank.

Conjure sleep.  Count spiders, not sheep.

You can find Shiloh’s at:

http://sunnydreamer.net/2010/halloween-6word.shtml

6 Word Stories

Posted in Blogging Memes, Everday Living, Poetry, Quotents, Stuff And Nonsense with tags , , , , on 07/09/2010 by gwenguin1

This started Sunday evening when I was chatting with Shiloh, who shared her blog’s new look (http://sunnydreamer.net/2010/6word-duel.shtml  ) and a couple of her recent posts. One was a fun and easy one with six-word stories. When I went quiet for bit, she challenged me to a Six-Word Story Duel.

We started tossing ideas back and forth, and here is what we came up with.  To me it feels Haiku-esque.  This is one of those fun challenges that can wake up sleepy Muses, and give you a chuckle at the same time.

Gwen’s:                                     Shiloh’s:

He dangled temptation, she steadfastly refused.

                                                Jagged lightning strikes! Fire feasts greedily.

Placid appearance aside, cats can hunt.

                                                Children: angelic asleep, whirling dervishes  awake.                                                              

A gleam of fangs, vampyre’s kiss.

                                                 Uprooted trees. Roofless home–tornado’s  carnage.

Stalking the prey. Carefully placed footsteps.

                                                 Man in tights and cape. Delusional.

Dancing shadows can excite your imagination.

                                                Their first kiss? Awkward, must practice.

Ripples of laughter.  Please, not me!

                                                 With one click, her money disappeared.

Break in concentration, brother’s welcome voice.

                                                 Should we stop or keep going?

Conversation twisted interestingly. What’s going on?

                                                 Homeless ghost will haunt undesirable Guests.

Horse stumbles. Odds go sky-high.

                                               Adrenaline. Rapid heartbeats. Hunter and hunted.  

After we had written this much, Shiloh and I started getting a touch silly as we discussed working on our posts.

Shiloh sent me the following message:  “Better get posting, instead of being caught up in the romantic music playing! *laughs*”

I saw one of my infamous cartoons in my head and had to share it with Shiloh: ‘I can see the two of us, at apposite ends of a dusty mining town’s main street, arms and legs akimbo, doing the fast draw, but instead of our six-guns firing bullets, they are shooting six-word stories.”

Shiloh gleefully added: “or words in general?”

To which I responded: “Welllll…  It is a Six-Word Story Duel.”

Shiloh topped that with: “And people taking cover for fear of being buried in a mound of words!”

And that, my dears, is how my tales often begin

Let’s All Drink from the Ace of Cups

Posted in Blogging Memes, Bookworm Tales, Hestia's Hearth, It's In The Cards, Poetry, Quotents, Soul Food Cafe Fun, Tarot Journey with tags , , , , , , on 29/06/2010 by gwenguin1

The Ace of Cups

For Heather

In my favourite deck

(The Thoth-Crowley Deck)

The Ace of Cups rises from a

Fully open white lotus blossom,

Which is the symbol of

Love of a giving nature. 

It is the feminine counterpart of

The Ace of Wands;

Open, receptive, surrendering;

Bearing the transformatory

Power of giving love.

The key words are overflowing love,

Emotional clarity,

Deep love of the self,

Giving and receiving.

The giving of love happens effortlessly. 

That which continually flows into us from

The boundless abundance of the

Universe radiates outward again by itself,

If we remain open and receptive.

This giving is not dependent on individual,

Perhaps close people. 

There is so much to share! 

All of existence can take part in it. 

Becoming one with the

All-embracing,

Omnipresent love

Is such a silent ecstasy.

The affirmation is:

All-encompassing love fills me and my environment.

From The Wheel of Change:

The cup is a potent symbol of

Containment,

Protection, and

Enclosure.  

It is a vessel of magic,

Allowing us to control liquids

That would otherwise

Escape our practical use. 

The cup or chalice is also associated

With the original container of life,

The womb.

The Ace of Cups

Is the most

Elemental and

Original expression

Of the

Water Element.

All life originally

Evolved in the

Primordial

Womb of the

Sea.

It was the

Dark,

Concealing,

Protective

Mother;

Where life was

Cradled

Before it

Emerged and

Crawled to land.

Again:

The central cup of this card

Is the Ardagh Chalice,

One of the finest

Examples

Of early

Christian Celtic art,

Crafted in Ireland

In the early eighth Century.

Ireland is a

Mystical land of

Water and feeling.

The mist of the

Island, and its

Green foelds

Represent the

Fertile Goddess and

Her mystery,

Which lives

So deep in the

Hearts of the

Irish People.

The Ace represents

Emotion in an

Undivided state,

A type of

Feeling we rarely

Experience

As we grow

Older and learn to

Stand back from

Our feelings

So that we may

Interpret and

Analyse them.

In the

Rumi Tarot,

The Ace of Cups

Represents the

Intoxicating wine of

Divine Ecstasy

Imbibed within the

Tavern of Ruin

Served by the

Cupbearer, or

Saki , as

Celebrated by many

Arab-Persian poets.

This

Talismanic Cup is the

Jewelled Chalice of

Jamshid,

The mythical

King of Persia,

Which contained the

Divine Elixer of

Intoxication and

Immortality, and in

Whose Depths

All things occurring in the

Seven Heavenly

Spheres were revealed to

The Seer.

The cup,

Chalice, or

Vessel also

Symbolises the

Feminine womb,

Which in the

Arabic language is

Called

Rahim.

And Another Blitz Poem

Posted in Blogging Memes, Bookworm Tales, My Inspirations, Poetry, Quotents with tags , , on 29/06/2010 by gwenguin1

Trees In Belt

Researching my family tree

Researching the Norse World Tree

Trees in bloom

Trees in the wind

Wind in my hair

Wind in the wires

Wires in the wall

Wires on the poles

Poles have shifted before

Poles immigrated to America

America the Beautiful

America, Land of the Brave

Brave Pioneers

Brave New World

World in Black and White

World without end

End of the book

End of the line

Line on paper

Line in the sand

Sand between my toes

Sand on the beach

Beach at the ocean

Beach the boats

Boats bobbing on the waves

Boats tied at anchor

Anchor the poster to the wall

Anchored in the real world

World of Warcraft game

World of magic

Magic act

Magic both High and Low

Low prices for one week only

Low-pressure front is stalled

Stalled the lawn mower

Stalled at the starting line

Line of descent

Line forms here

Here is my house

Here is the victim

Victim of circumstance

Victim of the times

Times are changing

Times are listed below

Below the waterline

Below the belt

Belt out the tune

Belt of rotgut

Rotgut

Tune

*gasp!* Two posts in one week!!

Posted in Everday Living, Poetry, Soul Food Cafe Fun with tags , , , , , on 29/01/2010 by gwenguin1

At the same time that Shiloh ( http://sunnydreamer.net/2010/wicked-garden.shtml ) dared me to write the Japanese forms she also shared a writing prompt from

Soul Food Cafe’s ( http://dailywriting.net/ ) 

Anita Marie Moscoso ( http://anita64.wordpress.com/2009/10/25/she-had-no-face/#comment-10696 ). 

I have played with the idea of a wicked garden and below is the poem I wrote from the prompt.  I hope you enjoy it.

IN MY WICKED GARDEN

 

In my wicked garden

Mandrake roots twist,

Silent cries of delight.

Poppies bloom in riotous

Red, labile and ready

Bleeding somnolence.

Fairy fingers in purple

Lavender and pink,

Brown freckled petals.

Wolfsbane blooms,

Eerily white under

The soaring full moon.

Throughout my wicked garden

Are hidden bowers,

Sanctuaries for lovers.

Trellised roses bloom

Madly open to the sun

White, yellow, and red.

Bougainvillea riots,

Untrimmed and untamed,

Passionate pink blooms.

Beneath their branches,

Beds of petals await

The dreams of lovers.

Found in my wicked garden

Love apples ripen

Hues of green and red.

Beyond the statues of

Bare limbs twining

In passionate embrace.

The perfume of blossoms

Night Blooming Jasmine

Floats through the senses.

Crickets romancing the

Ladies with their song

Their instrument is their legs.

I plant my wicked garden

By the rising of the moon

Watered well with desire.

Plants are fed through

Caresses and soft sighs

The dance of romance.

Unpruned, and left to

Grow as it will

Not tame or precise.

The garden grows with

The speed of love,

And flavours of dreams.

Shiloh Dared Me!!

Posted in Everday Living, My Inspirations, Old Deep Roots, Poetry with tags , , , , , , , on 24/01/2010 by gwenguin1

My friend Shiloh, a lot of you know Shiloh, dared me to write some forms of Japanese  poetry after I told her that I do not write good verse poetry.  I don’t class the Japanese forms in with verse poetry  because they follow different forms and philosophies the European-based poetic forms.  So here are the poems I did write, using the Senryu, Tanka, and Lanturne forms of Japanese poetry.

Senryu 1:

 Cat’s pawprints

Cross the floor

He’s on the hunt.

 

Senryu 2

Aching toes

Reach Heaven

With my dancing.

 

Tanka 1

 Laughter in symbols

Sorrow in harsh silences

Hope does not spring here

Love’s petals are withered, sere

Dreams do not flourish down here.

 

 

Lanturne 1

 Love

Blossoms

Silently

When it’s not sought.

 

Lanturne 2

 Hate

Slithers

Coils twining

Devours the Light.

 

These are my attemnpts, you can find Shiloh’s at http://sunnydreamer.net/2010/japanese-styles.shtml.  I hope you enjoy them, and find some inspiration in them.

Rockers’ Twelve Days of Christmas

Posted in Everday Living, Family History, Misspent Youth, Poetry, Stuff And Nonsense with tags , , , , on 12/12/2009 by gwenguin1

The Rockers’ 12 Days of Christmas

 

On the first Day of Christmas

My Rock Star

Gave to me,

One Backstage Pass.

 

On the second day of Christmas

My Rock Star

Gave to me,

Two pedals Wah-Wahing,

And

One Backstage Pass.

 

 

On the third day of Christmas

My Rock Star

Gave to me,

Three guitarists strumming,

Two pedals Wah-Wahing,

And

One Backstage Pass.

 

On the fourth day of Christmas,

My Rock Star

Gave to me,

Four bassists rumbling,

Three guitarists strumming,

Two pedals Wah-Wahing,

And

One Backstage Pass.

 

On the fifth Day of Christmas,

My Rock Star

Gave to me,

Five golden songs,

Four bassists rumbling,

Three guitarists prancing,

Two pedals Wah-Wahing

And,

One Backstage Pass.

 

On the sixth day of Christmas,

My Rock Star

Gave to me,

Six groupies flirting,

Five golden songs,

Four bassists rumbling

Three guitarists playing,

Two pedals Wah-Wahing,

And

One Backstage Pass.

 

On the seventh Day of Christmas

My Rock Star gave to me,

Seven Interviews, boring,

Six groupies flirting,

Five golden songs,

Four bassists rumbling,

Three guitarists strumming,

Two pedals Wah-Wahing,

And,

One Backstage Pass.

 

On the eighth Day of Christmas,

My Rock Star

Gave to me,

Eight giant amps humming,

Seven Interviews, boring,

Six groupies flirting,

Five golden songs,

Four bassists rumbling,

Three guitarists strumming,

Two pedals Wah-Wahing,

And,

One Backstage Pass.

 

 

On the ninth Day of Christmas

My Rock Star

Gave to me,

Nine Roadies bustling,

Eight giant amps humming,

Seven Interviews, boring,

Six groupies flirting,

Five golden songs,

Four bassists rumbling,

Three guitarists strumming,

Two pedals Wah-Wahing,

And,

One Backstage Pass.

 

On the tenth Day of Christmas,

My Rock Star

Gave to me,

Ten Sold-Out Shows,

Nine Roadies bustling,

Eight giant amps humming,

Seven Interviews, boring,

Six groupies flirting,

Five golden songs,

Four bassists rumbling,

Three guitarists strumming,

Two pedals Wah-Wahing,

And,

One Backstage Pass.

 

On the eleventh Day of Christmas

My Rock Star

Gave to me,

Eleven drummers drumming,

Ten Sold-Out Shows,

Nine Roadies bustling,

Eight giant amps humming,

Seven Interviews, boring,

Six groupies flirting,

Five golden songs,

Four bassists rumbling,

Three guitarists strumming,

Two pedals Wah-Wahing,

And,

One Backstage Pass.

 

On the twelfth Day of Christmas

My Rock Star

Gave to me,

Twelve dead stars, resurrecting,

Eleven drummers drumming,

Ten Sold-Out Shows,

Nine Roadies bustling,

Eight giant amps humming,

Seven Interviews, boring,

Six groupies flirting,

Five golden songs,

Four bassists rumbling,

Three guitarists strumming,

Two pedals Wah-Wahing,

And,

One Backstage Pass.