Criticize this poem!

I know that there are some of you
who’ll click a box to “like” this poem
and then you’ll quickly move along
to read some finely written tome

very few, or none at all
will tell me what you truly think
for some of you, and maybe all
will think this poem truly stinks!


written for the Daily Post where the prompt word is criticize

A Multitude from far across the sea

A multitude from far across the sea
is begging to be lent a helping hand
and asking if we’ll share with them this land
They claim that from their nations they must flee

“They pose a risk, they’re not like you and me,
so send them back into their desert sand
for with them, won’t this country be less grand?”
is what the leader says with pompous glee

with thoughts that they are safe, a nation sleeps
while those who live in torment have to wait
not knowing if they’ll ever have a home
or if their fate is to forever roam
on earth, it seems, that none care of their fate
above, though, heaven trembles as God weeps


a Petrarchan Sonnet for the Daily Post. Prompt word today is tremble

Also sharing this with dVerse OLN

Miss Sophie

Miss Sophie’s favourite colour was the softest springtime green
she loved the scent of flowers and the sounds of marshland frogs
she stayed away from critters, though, like kittens and like dogs
because she had a hate for things that might be less than clean

So daily by the mirror she would primp and she would preen
she never went on dates because she thought that boys were hogs
instead she spent her time perusing cleaning tips on blogs
and thought herself more pretty even than a beauty queen

one day, though, as she combed her hair she noticed she was sad
and realized that the source of this was that she was so vain
“I really must go out,” she thought, “and get myself a bud”
and so she went to find a friend, and though she tried real bad
each one she tried to talk to simply moved across the lane
it turns out, though she was quite clean, she might as well be mud


at dVerse, today, Frank Hubeny has prompted us to write poems in common meter (metrically, this would sound like iambic heptameter, but not necessarily all on one line). Frank chose to write his poem as an unrhymed fourteener.  I chose to follow his lead on writing a fourteener, but thought that, just for fun, I would try to do so within the framework of a petrarchan sonnet rhyme scheme.

This is also a response to the Daily Post, where the theme word today is clean.

The Ship Will Come

The ship will come, to take her away
To her brand new home across the sea
The schedule is secret, she knows not the day
And so she waits, expectantly

“I hope it’s soon,” she says to me,
“I’d like to board, be on my way”
And though I’ll miss her thoroughly,
The ship will come, to take her away

Compared to there, this land is grey
And filled with pain and misery
“I’m ready to go,” is what she’ll say,
To her brand new home across the sea

When the call to board comes, there she’ll be
For from the docks, she does not stray
And though she waits most eagerly
The schedule is secret, she knows not the day

No cost to board will she have to pay
The price has been covered, and so she’ll sail free
To the Land of Joy where she’ll go to stay
And so she waits, expectantly

The price was Jesus’ blood, you see
And Heaven is not so far away
It’s where her heart now wants to be
And though she may not know the day,
The ship will come.


Rondeau Redoublé for OLN at dVerse.  Written for a friend who loves life fully (as can be seen by the sparkle in her eyes), but knows that she will love the next life so much more.

Sharing this also to the Daily Post on Feb.14, 2017 (the word of the day is “expectation”, so I figured this fit.


Notes on form:  Opening stanza is A1,B1,A2,B2, each line takes its turn as the closing line of the following 4 stanzas (babA1, abaB1, babA2, abaB2).  The closing stanza is 5 lines – baba(R), where R is the rentrement, or a repetition of the first half of the poem’s first line (usually does not rhyme).

Sevenling: The Freshening of Rain

the freshening of rain
the cold of snow
……the heat of flame

……the silence of ash
the peace of frost
the reticence of fog

the words of a friend


note on form: A sevenling is a seven line poem. The first three lines contain a list of three, the second 3 lines contain another list that may or may not be related to the first list. The concluding line should tie it all together.

via Discover Challenge: The Poetry of List-Making