Posts Tagged with *poetic

Who doesn’t like something extra nice crossing their feed? There’s so much nastiness to scroll through, and if it doesn't come directly, then it's indirect, by being quote-tweetedly shared by its critic. Seriously. Every June, vulgar visuals are broadcasted, not only by celebrants but by their critics.

And besides that, there’s the crazy complex busyness. The feed is a mess, posts with text commenting on a screenshot, all quoted-tweeted with yet more text followed by ellipses because the guy couldn’t be more concise—that kind of thing.

It has me missing the old creative constraints of 140 characters. (Yeah I’m one of those guys. I actually enjoyed the challenge. 🙂 )

So, a guy like me enjoys seeing the simple tweet of a short nice poem cross my feed. Limericks, I like. Haiku are nice, but for too many, they’re little more than interrupted prose. One old friend used to post nothing but three-lined shout outs, counting 5-7-5 syllables. I like to try for something with a little more of that traditional flavor. (To be sure, I have much room to grow and would like to.)

If you’d enjoy seeing the poetry I’m dropping on twitter, you can. At the end, I add a π, as a searchable endmark. (π reminds me of ποίημα / poiema, and it can also abbreviate Penjammin, so yay. 🙂 ) Anyway, it allows me to point you here: penjams.com/twitterpoems. Much of these are prompted poetry, written spur of the moment for fun and practice, but here’s a favorite haiku:

Morning mist floating
Up in early Autumn light…
Just pick a shape cloud!

Have a great week everyone.

-P

Penjammin grew up in a labyrinthine cavern. Later he ran with the wolves and lived every moment marinated in the sweet scent of his game, until pirates landed and… See About for full story, and get his eletter at penjams.com/subscribe.

Father alone will know all about it,
Pain that will trade for the joys up there.
Further along, we won't mind a bit,

Shedding old wounds too deep to forget,
Even if born of hate or warfare,
Even if Father alone knows about it.

Old backs still give. Old knees still quit,
Waiting for upgrades to old earthenware.
Further along, we won't mind a bit.

We'll wander in wonders, with banana splits
As, under the bridge, flows the last care
Where Father alone will know all about it.

Hardships enlargen, grow big hearts with grit,
Vessels that may hold the more heavenfare.
Further along, we won't mind a bit.

It is well worth it. The pieces will all fit,
Sometimes no friend can explain the nightmare.
Father alone will know all about it.
Further along, we won't mind a bit.

Penjammin grew up in a labyrinthine cavern. Later he ran with the wolves and lived every moment marinated in the sweet scent of his game, until pirates landed and… See About for full story, and get his eletter at penjams.com/subscribe.