RSS Feed

Frost Cinquain

A poem written in response to the latest writing prompt on one of my favorite sites, Poets Online Unfortunately, I neglected to notice the expiration date for prompt, which always happens with the contents of my refrigerator too, so I should be used to this by now—

Frost, out walking in his woods
choosing his words and ways
tells us all a poem should
but more than the poet ever could
caught up in his rhyming daze.

Was it, as one teacher said,
a monumental choice?
Or, as another one read,
does it mean we’ll all end up dead
and all paths are the same in the poet’s voice?

Or, as I suspect,
all the difference was the phrase
that caught the poet round the neck,
led him to shuffle the words in his deck
leaving us on this tangled trek, wondering where the truth lays.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

The Novel Bunch

aka: The Happy Bookers

Red Wolf Prompts

I came to where you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.--John Ashberry, "The New Higher"

typewriter rodeo

custom poems on vintage typewriters

A Poet in Time

One Poet's Writing Practice

Writing the Day

A Ronka Poetry Practice Since 2014

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment

leaf and twig

where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry

%d bloggers like this: