Archives du mot-clé poem

[Writing 201 : poetry] Sandy Jane, Milly and Violet

There was a man so sour
He got to live by the hour

7:00 Coffee and a prayer
8:00 Tax fees and a checker
9:00 Toffee for the fox terrier
10:00 dishes, papers
and dog by the drawer

Than came little Sandy Jane
Anything but mundane
Dresses, shoes and flashes
She lived like a princess

Free to go, laugh and sing,
Then haul all night long
Till the very morning

Rigid man thought
His case was solid
Sued her in court,
Stood there rigid.

Clock on mind,
He arrived at seven
With coffee to grind
Papilla’s Heaven

Court door locked
Daily schedule blocked
Imagine his surprise
When he saw Sandy
Laying her big eyes
On her dear hubby

The one and only judge
With an obvious grudge
And a hammer named Milly

The neighbor he never met
Destroyed his planet,
His plans, and anxiety net;

Too bad sour man thought
I haven’t told them about
My axe named Violet.

[Writing 201: Poetry] Through the mist of imagination

What are the odds, my friends
That I can write this story of mine
And know right away the last line

Value the protagonist defends,
Plot points, structure and twist
Have to be seen through the mist

Of my ever so busy imagination.
Yes, this is a work of fiction
And its map is called a plot.

Steps are scenes, cold or hot,
The writer needs to vary
To come up with a good story

Keep them away

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: « Wicked Witch. »

How does evil look like ?
Fear, disrespect, ignorance,
Greed, feeling of impenitence
That’s the thing with Evil

It doesn’t dress in Prada
Nor summons an armada
It may come with spikes
When it shows up for duel

Don’t be fool, act cool
Learn, open your eyes
And mind, watch for lies
You’re no one’s tool

Those who

Always provide
Answers that divide
They’re in for a ride
To pamper their pride
Keep them away.

I’ll go with imperfect

Give me the nap recipe that’s perfect
For a home full of insects
Feasting on in this damsel
In nightdress. Oh hell !
As long as I sleep, I’ll go with imperfect

[Writing 201 : Poetry] Interface

Screens are skins, site maps of you
I scan your lives and I see
Smiles, smirks and wandering souls

 

This haiku is an answer to day 1 assignment of Writing 201 : Poetry. Write a Haiku about Screens, insert alliterations.

They lied to my cat

Once upon a time I was very worried
What people might think about me

But then came the day they lied
To my friends, to my cat, and to me

Not a big deal, I was actually relieved
I didn’t need them at all to be happy

Crazy happy, I mean,  and to succeed
At what I love the most : writing stories

This poem is an aswer to the daily post prompt pf the day : Phobia, schmobia

Turbulences

Ce poème étrange est une réponse au prompt du jour sur le blog  DailyPost : Doubters Alert – What commonly accepted truth (or “truth”) do you think is wrong, or at least seriously doubt?  Why?

Voyageurs de tous horizons
Voiture, train ou avion
Traversent des masses d’air

Aiment une stabilité hors pair
A la moindre petite turbulence
Diffusent un gros contre sens

On parle de trous d’air
Sans se soucier de la vérité
Ni de tous les angoissés

Ce qu’il se passe vraiment ?
L’air ne peut pas être troué.
Il agit un peu comme le café.

L’air se déplace en masse
En fonction de sa densité
Comme le thé dans une tasse.

Aspirez du café avec une paille
Pas de trou, aucune faille :
Le café se déplace. C’est tout.

The sound of my crushes

Brown curls flowed,
A spanish voice,
Beautiful choice
Of that girl he loved.

Two decades after,
A few tunes linger
Down memory lane
The kernel of my brain.

Today, my life is full.
If I ever meet my crush
I’ll say « Sorry beautiful,
The day is old, I’m on a rush ».

This post is an answer to today’s prompt on the Dailypost : First crush.

I’ll rock the block from my bed

The virus’s too virulent and
I’m locked away for a month ?
Endless boring meetings end
I couldn’t stand the millionth

Time is on our side to recover
and get better.Why not sooner ?
Incubation and latent period
Should be considered with a nod

The doctor’s calculating the days
While my laptop’s the getaway
Give me the fiber, the internet
The blogs, the forum, the ficlet

Till the pathogen agents have all fled
I’ll rock the block from my bed

This post is an answer to today’s prompt on the Dailypost : Inside the Bubble