Haiku for You

This is a selfie... Sorry.

Fortunate mistake
I forgot my umbrella
Fate brought me to yours

Ah, haiku; so short
Like summer in Canada
Words like peaches end

Precious as a leaf
Falling in apprehension
Of obscuring snow




You might be able to tell, I delight in haiku.  It is so wonderful to have the stiff parameters of syllable count and seasonality to adhere to.  I take it as freedom to play with metaphor, innuendo, allusion and other subtle devices.  I encourage you to do the same; perhaps, in the comments?

Decode the Ode

Odes always seemed stiff to me until I heard a performer reciting her Ode to Gummy Bears.  I fell in love with the absurdity of it; the Pindaric ode structure in stark contrast.

This Sunday, I will be baking an apple pie for a birthday dinner and it has been on my mind.  I love to cook and bake, and I LOVE apple pie, so I wrote a Pindaric ode to it.  Odes are generally written about prestigious people or events and pie is pretty darned common, but so what.

Ode to an Apple Pie

mmmmm- wikimedia commons ftw

Ethereally scented, wafting joy

of golden crust in patty pan

to play decoy

for homemade filling, bereft of can.

Placed for knife, and fork, and tooth to destroy

upon eight plates set before those who would

gnash apart tender flaky flesh

-once warm and fresh,

hurries to its doom willingly as all pies should.

Yum!

Oh yeah.  I forgot about yesterday.  Sorry.

Hey, Nonnet Nonnet

Today, it is the nonnet that gets our attention. A nonnet has nine lines, as the name would suggest.  The first line has nine syllables, the eighth has eight, seventh has seven and so on right down to one.  In fact, there is a cute nonnet entitled How to Write a Nonnet, written in nonnet by Akhil Katyal.  I encourage you to read it. This is my nonnet.

Forgotten Loaf

Never leave your bread sitting around

For weeks on end to grow some fur

Blue and green and white and grey

Damply stuck to the bag

The humble start of

Penicillin

The trashcan

Gets fed

Yuck

On a more serious note, I spent last night reading news reports, blogs and firsthand accounts of something that's plaguing our entire world.  Rape Culture.   I have been up all night with horrible things playing in my mind's eye over and over again; too terrified to sleep.

The thing that really surprised me is the amount of "low level violence", read street harassment, groping...that goes on everywhere.  I even took some time a looked into my own history and realized, I have been made to feel scared and small continuously, simply for existing as a female in a public place.  I have been shamed and blamed for things that are beyond my control.  My personal space is constantly invaded by men who act as though I am public property.

No more.  I vowed last night that every instance from here on out will not go unnoticed.  I will be loud in voicing my discomfort.  I will not be passive.  I will report all violence, no matter how "low level" without shame.  I will call attention to this disgusting behaviour whenever and wherever I see it.  I am a human being. I will be treated as such.

Warning!  These stories are graphic. One, Two, Three, Four, Five.  

This is a call to all reasonable human beings.  Please, speak up when you see shit go down.  Don't be a bystander.  Your nonchalance could actually be fatal.  Step in.  Say no.  Be loud.  Don't blame the victim, no matter how short the skirt.  Don't tell women how to dress and act.  Tell men not to rape.

I'm going to start raving in a second if I don't cut off this post.  Stay strong! 

Writer's Prompt

So, I am a member of a poetry group and we have a weekly prompt.  This week's prompt was to write about an experience that touched you.  I decided to write about the day I became a poet.

Calliope, muse of poetry.

Sunday

A private aria

In knee deep grass

Hummed by a girl

With long black hair

Chewing on sweet grass

Smiling to the sun

With eyes squinted

Waiting to grow up

I hope you like it.  I kind of half-assed it today...  I am hungover.  Birthday parties are a blast, but watch your consumption!  Call a cab.  Take the bus.  Don't drink and drive.

I Baked a Cake!

I did not write a poem at all today.  I baked a birthday cake instead.  Wanna see?  Well, you can't.  My camera is being booger.  It's a chocolate, cherry filled, cream cheese and coconut frosted dream of home made goodness...  if I do say so myself.

Tomorrow, I will make it up to you with a doozie, I hope.  We'll see.

Here is a cake I didn't bake.

Take that one to heart, kids!

Wander Wildly Away

Today, I decided to take a break from introducing forms of poetry.  It can be a bit trying.  Also, I went out last night.  So sue me.

This is an old piece, but I like it.  If you would care to click the link, you can see a live version with my band, The Dinner Situation.  Pardon my singing, please.

Wail and Wander

Artist Unknown-  Poor little Hansel
and Gretel.  I am too freaked out by
the concept of the movie exisiting
 to go see the movie. 

I dawdled, and now I've lost your shadow,

But I've forked the path for myself.

You would be proud

As I wander wildly away to the left 

And cast no crumbs with which to find my way back.

It's all over now.

It's all just begun.

And the beginning is a very good place to start,

Over and over like I've done before,

But this time you aren't looking.

I guess I'll just twist and wither while trying to find the light.

Sometimes the sun just don't shine,

You've warned me before.

And I suspect that the sun won't shine as often as it used to

What with you being so far ahead, and all.

I don't need to be forgiven.

It's so improbable anyway.

Back to out regularly scheduled program tomorrow.  Ciao kids!

How are You, Dodoitsu?

This is such a great way to write.  Dodoitsu is a Japanese form of poetry from the mid 1800's (late Edo Period). Often humourous, dodoitsu usually deals with the subjects of love or work.  It has a syllable structure of 7, 7, 7, 5 and no rhyme scheme.

In writing this way for the first time, I rediscovered the joys of irony and double entendre.  It's interesting to integrate humour into poetry.  Sometimes I feel that poets can take themselves and their work a little seriously, me especially.

I.

Papers stack up everywhere

Echoing the office block

Where time stands completely still

Until lunch is called.

II.

The elevator sign reads

Maximum capacity

Is four hundred kilograms.

I only know pounds.

III.

Do you think your family

Will call us this holiday?

How do I call the phone place

To change our number?

Try to write a comment in dodoitsu, if you can. ;)

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