challenge 4: le stein

Khara House - Our Lost Jungle Prompt Here
  
tiny etchings - inked

A generation of tattoos cliché, crochet, clashes. Melting sizzles dissolving pot

ideals morass deceit dystopian merge tattoos yet delineate arms legs faces backs skin
sopped inky lathers.  The ankle is the saddest rebellion identity conformity,
an inconformity, of sheep wooly  lambs grain-fed starved for a rose is still a rose is a rose
even when the brush is hairless.


or in another form:

Generation of tattoos

cliché, crochet, clashes
Melting sizzles dissolving pot
ideals morass, deceit, dystopian
merge tattoos
yet delineate
arms legs faces backs skin
sopped inky lathers. 
The ankle is the saddest
rebellion identity conformity,
an inconformity, of sheep
wooly  lambs grain fed
starved for a rose is still a rose
is a rose even when
the brush is hairless.

The Cure

We Write Poems - Prompt 171 HERE

“The cure for anything is salt water - tears, sweat, or the sea.” ― Isak Dinesen, Seven Gothic Tales 

I’ve heard it said
that open windows,
even in the middle of winter,
with plenty of fresh air is
The cure for anything.

And when you have

a sore throat or infected toe-
Gargle or soak-as needed-
the best remedy
is salt water.

For working out problems

hard work is a tonic.
And if your heart is broken-cry,
for there is healing in
tears, sweat.

And when life overwhelms

with its ceaseless noise
and solitude you crave,
go to a wooded place
or the sea.

*********

 

They say
deep breaths
of fresh air is
the cure for anything.

And when you have
a sore throat or toe 
(Gargle or soak) the remedy
is salt water.

Heart broken? Cry.

Problems? Work.  
There’s healing in
tears, sweat.

And when life leaves

you craving solitude
go to a wooded place
or the sea.

Song of Terpsichore

Miz Quickly Prompt Here  Simple Pleasures -
the music and clip carried me away

Music

light, lilting, lifting,

fluting breeze, twirl, skip, dip, and sway -

join me friend

and dance, heady effervescent

spring song of Terpsichore

enchants.

 

Prompt for Margo Roby: Wordgathering

Poem Tryouts: Colouring Outside the Lines
           http://margoroby.com/



     Thick, pellucid, amber sweetness
     drips from your honeyed tongue
     in sticky streams of golden viscous lies
     suspending me in butterscotch
     memories of cruel, hazel eyes.

Holy Cow Batman

Writers Digest: For this week’s prompt, take the phrase “Holy (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.


We have so many interjections
and some of such pearly perfection
that you’d think Batman would
tell Robin he should
find some other way
to emphatically say
“I am astonished”.
Why didn’t he admonish
Robin to a hipper expression
and banish his “holy” obsession?

Resignation

http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/gwawdodyn-poetic-forms

The gwawdodyn is a Welsh poetic form with a couple variations. However, both versions are comprised of quatrains (4-line stanzas) that have a 9/9/10/9 syllable pattern and matching end rhymes on lines 1, 2, and 4. The variations are made in that third line:
1-xxxxxxxxa
2-xxxxxxxxa
3-xxxxbxxxxb
4-xxxxxxxxa

       

Summer is spiraling to a nub
of dry grasses and stumpy shrub
marigold heads brown, spilling seeds on ground
resigned to winter’s coldhearted snub.

Well, That Was a Mistake - Writers' Digest

I walked from booth to booth at the fair where
vendors hawked their goodies to snare hungry
victims and greedy, sugar addicted  junkies
with aromas that rode on my back like a monkey,
burdensome nuisance, insistent – I gave in.
Well, that was a mistake.

I’ll have the vanilla raspberry in a waffle cone,
two scoops, sprinkled with nuts and jimmies, please.
I licked and I licked every drip then popped the cone tip
into my mouth with a satisfying crunch and smacked my lips.
And then my stomach protested.
Well, that was a mistake.

Oooh, a caramel apple rolled in pecans

drizzled with chocolate- gooily- called my name.
So, I bought one- for later, I said, just before bed
to insure the sweetest of sweet dreams, I said.
All night my stomach protested.
Well, that was a mistake.

I vow I’ll not make that mistake next year

when the fair and vendors again appear
and the monkey snickers with a knowing sneer.