Should a poem conform
To some abstract
Form
Of rhyme and metre?
Trying to hard may defeat her.
The poet that is, who striving for perfection
Feels only dejection
And bangs her head
Until she sees red
Or shooting stars,
Which rhymes with cars,
But not a publishing contract,
that is a fact …
Saints with feet of clay
Play
With fallen angels
Who have bills to pay.
Such men are Lucifer, some will say,
While others plead
Man has his needs
And there are hungry mouths to feed.
The poor Thai
Asks not why,
But takes the cash,
Or simply dies.
I Seek for grace,
In nature’s ever changing face.
Yesterday
the sheeting rain chased empty thought away.
This morning, The wind purifies,
Birds sing in sunny skies.
At times, my spirit flies
Or goes asighing with the breeze.
Would
That I could
Soar high up in the trees
And be lost among the leaves.
I am pleased to publish the below announcement by my friend, author Victoria (Tori) Zigler:
For those who don’t know, I write poetry, as well as books for children of various ages.
Back in 2012, I started publishing my books in multiple eBook formats. Then, in early 2015, I decided it was way past time I started making my books available in paperback for those who still prefer physical copies of books.
Now, more than a year later, I’m pleased to be able to report that I’m all caught up with my backlist, and every book of mine for which the publication date has been and gone, is now available not just in multiple eBook formats, but also in paperback too.
The eBooks are available via Smashwords, Barnes & Noble, Apple iBooks, Kobo, and the other places Smashwords distributes to. Plus, if your local library supports eBook lending, you may be able to find my books as eBooks there (or request that your library orders copies).
The paperbacks are available via CreateSpace, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and any other places CreateSpace books are available from, including any libraries happy to order copies.
Future titles will also be made available as paperbacks as well as eBooks.
“He’s dead”
She said.
What to say?
Meaningless words
Of sympathy, by her probably only half heard
While thinking “I must get away,
The shop will soon close
And heaven knows
I am out of milk. Well nearly so.
Poor lady how will she go
On without him?”
A short walk and I am in
The shop where once they together went
And spent notes that crumble into dust.
The Minotaur doth roar
For his stomach is sore,
On account of the plump maiden he ate
Together with cutlery and plate!
“Oh why Did I partake
Of a girl so overweight.
By Zeus my stomach doth ache.
In future I will stick to steak!”
The Minotaur said, with a shake of his head.
Thoughts muddy
I will forsake
And take
Refuge in my study,
Among poets who speak
Words that endure beyond a week.
I shall sit listening to birdsong.
The long
Summer days willimperceptibly turn
Into Autumn. I shall the world spurn
And yearn
For Keat’s Nightingale.
A cold wind blows
Yet onwards the suicide goes
Towards the white cliffs of Dover.
Looking over
He sees only bliss
And leaping off, falls into the abyss.
“The drinks are on me” he said.
“Indeed they are
For I found in your car
A bra
Not mine.
Oh red wine!
How kind.
You will find
It is hard to get out”, the girl said,
As she Poured her drink over his head …
Where I a mouse
That wanders through my neighbour’s house,
I could observe with care
The joys and sorrows of him and her.
Where I a fly
Who all things doth spy
I could grieve
For the love I perceive
Blossom then die.
But I am a man
And have not the art
To gaze into my neighbour’s heart,
And possessing my own cares
Meddle not in other’s affairs.
