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 Let Her Be - A Fold poem

The i - do husband ups and left her;

She is single again and wise enough not

to play the blame game, not for her,

There are people to be blamed, she knows.

With two children to nurture, he ups and left her;

She has neither the time, money, or energy

to have another man walk beside her;

Let her be, she has a brain, she's not stupid,

He is the wild weed in the storm not her,

She can decide to be without a man,

She doesn't need another i - do cause he ups and left her.

© gillena cox 2024

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Poetics: Stormy Weather

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1205

Here in  Trinidad and Tobago, it is hot throughout the year. Our Main seasons are climatic Rainy Season and Dry Season. Here it is green all year through, except for a few trees types speaking their blossom truths; live Poui at Easter time and Flamboyant (gulmohar) around July and others at specific other months like Poinsettia bracts turning red approaching December for Christmas.

I awakened around fiveish in the AM. But it still night sky instead of dawn sky. And yes silent. I have to wait with the genteel breezes, for a sky clearing. Another climatic shift. Our seasonal shifts are not as visible as in those areas and zones where colour speaks a loud language. We have no white Winters, 

falling leaves in Autumns, defined budding of Spring and bright hot Summers. 

dawn delays her light -

waiting and watching in awe

middle August passed

© gillena cox 2024

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Haibun Monday 8-26-24: Another Seasonal Shift

THIS IS MONDAY WRITES 445

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Monday WRites 444

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1204

[image courtesy dVerse poetry Pub]

 At The Cricket Match

A sunny day allows

for an outing to 

the cricket stands

She carries a fan

not to be coquettish

but to stir a breeze

It can get quite heated

when a batsman hits

a ball way out for six

Such good players

form each team

for a thrilling match

Flag wavers add 

their applause with

such fervor

The umpire clad in pink

has his work cut out

for him out on the field

© gillena cox 2024

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Meeting the Bar: Triversen

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]bread image from bing.com]

The scent of freshly baked bread

Is like a dream you don't want to wake from

You'd rather break bread

Than cut it with a knife

Fingers might get burned

But you don't mind

Butter somehow behaves better

It seeps right into the rich texture

Yummy

Teeth knows the drill

Bite like there's no tomorrow

Chew swallow

Feel good

The scent of freshly baked bread

Is like a dream you don't want to wake from

© gillena cox 2024

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Poetics: Exploring the senses in Food Poetry

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[Bing created image]

 Swing low 

Oh morning shadow

Still on early bend of dawn.

In nearby forest maybe little fawn

Might rise from bended

Sleep now ended

Some trees are wide awake 

For daybreak's sake

Now birds will twitter 

And a child in her knicker 

Will yawn

© gillena cox 2024

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dVerse — Quadrille Monday #206 — Around the Bend

THIS IS MONDAY WRITES 444

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[image created for me by Bing AI]

 It was one of those days

When happiness and strife

Sat at her table to dine

On words witty and rife

Firstly she said knocking

A spoon on the teapot

I want silence and attention

Despite your mouthfuls

Of sweet and sour delights

Someone raised a hand

A gesture she thought annoying

And attention grabbing

Yet she smiled sweetly

Nodding her head and holding

Her tongue, in a simple task

Of conforming by example.

© gillena cox 2024

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Zeugmatically Speaking

 Today’s Poetics prompt, i is to write a poem including one example of zeugma. You may come up with more if the muse strikes, but only one is required.

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[image from google]

A time traveller so enthused about his crash landing in the year 2024 decides to inscribe his presence in the hymn of eternity, he writes:

I will sing praises to pioneers and present-day celebrations. and I’ll bury my soul in a scrapbook, with the photographs there and the moss; so everyone will know the truth about badjohn fights and hooligan days, discarded oil drums and pan sticks.

Tag the page Trinidad and Tobago; Caribbean, a space tiny and unassuming. Assuming that the lines will also word the sweet sounds of steelpan music soaring so vast and wide that the world can all stand together and applaud at the same time. 'Oh Happy Day'.

For it's no longer a paragraph one scenario. I'ts now about energy, passion, respect. A culture realized and searchable. Then he down his quill to have a good last look around.

© gillena cox 2024

#NOTE: (fact) YESTERDAY AUGUST 11 WAS WORLD STEELPAN DAY

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Take This Waltz

Today's challenge is to write prosery (flash fiction) using the following lines from 

----Leonard Cohen

“And I’ll bury my soul in a scrapbook,

with the photographs there and the moss.”

THIS IS MONDAY WRITES 443

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 Asking Sara

You have crossed over

Is there enough ink

To scribe the journey

Was it plain sailing

To the other realm

Sincerely asking

Are your words with you

So are you writing

Sunsets are golden

Morning comes again

We are not angry

Your words enlighten

Avid poets sway

mystery beholden

Ink here is flowing

You  there are resting

© gillena cox 2024

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MTB: An Octameter for August and Sara Teasdale

 today’s prompt to write an Octameter – designed by Shelley A. Cephas in 2007

Poetry Style:

16 lines

2 stanzas of 8 lines each

5 syllables per line

rhyme scheme a/b/c/d/e/d/f/d; g/h/c/g/i/g/d/d.

(N.B. watch out for those repeat rhymes and where they fall; 2 in the first stanza and 3 in the second stanza)

Poetry Topic: There is no set theme but if you wish to try and write in the style of Sara Teasdale or dedicate a poem to her, with or without epigraph,

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To Sleep To Awake

 when you say goodbye

in a dream is there a bridge

one must cross over

or is it a catapult 

 to gazillions

of light years a soul travels

or more so a blink

of a subconscious lid

called awakening

© gillena cox 2024

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Poetics: Dreaming up a Poem

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Door Ajar,

Door ajar

A peek allowed into her heart,

She loves wholeheartedly 

Still expecting love in return

She allows only a peek into

A heart that can easily be wounded 

A door that can open to

A jar full of fireflies

Given with a smile

© gillena cox 2024

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Quadrille #205 – A Jar Full of Poems

THIS IS MONDAY WRITES 442

A Happy AUGUST to all

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Monday WRites 441

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