“In There” CK Williams – Lines of the Day

Here I am, walking along your eyelid again
toward your tear duct. Here are your eyelashes
like elephant grass and one tear
blocking the way like a boulder.

It probably takes me a long time
to figure it out, chatting with neighbors,
trying penicillin, steam baths, meditation
on the Shekinah and sonnet cycles

and then six more months blasting
with my jackhammer before I get in there
and can wander through your face, meeting you
on the sly, kissing you from this side.

I am your own personal verb now. Here I come,
“dancing,” “loving,” “making poems.”
I find a telescope
and an old astronomer

to study my own face with,
and then, well, I am dreaming behind your cheekbone
about Bolivia and tangerines and the country
and here I come again, along your eyelid, walking.


The Taste of Defiance – Susan Richardson – Lines of the Day (Excerpt)

Just an excerpt from a deliciously bitter poem. . .

I taste defiance on my tongue and hear the rustle
of a sweater that carries the stench of conceit.
I attack the lines of a blank page. . .

Her imprint leaves a stain on the taste buds of my day.
Susan Richardson in Toasted Cheese

Critter – Rumination

There is a critter living in the
wall of my bedroom. I hear
it scratching and nesting.
I am hoping that it intends to
stay behind the drywall and
live a private, independent

I hope this not for my sake,
for I expect that it is something
adorable, either a bird or a furry
little rodent, with . . . probably
even more adorable babies.

I do not tell the landlord.
I fear extermination.
Even in the unlikely event
they went for relocation,
where will the critters turn?
They have to live somewhere.
Why not in my wall?



Wild Is the Spirit – new poetic form

Wild is the spirit that urges sin be
Child is the dearest that surges in me
Pain is the prison that holds it inside
Feign is the -ism that told me it died
Angst is the effort to break out of chains
Strong is the deft thwart that aches, shouts, and strains
Strife is the giant that shoulders the cross
Life is the triumph of soul over loss
Hope is the whisper that runs through my veins
Trope is the image that stuns you and reigns.
Love is the life force that rises beyond
Dove is the wife – source that prizes the fond
Home is the destiny, freedom the scheme.
Roam till I rest in me, Eden’s redeemed.


This is a new form based on a form created by Mary Meriam, called Basic Me.
There are four rules and I added one of my own to this poem.

Meriam’s rules:
– 4 to 14 lines of dactyl-dactyl-trochee-iamb
– rhymed couplets
– first word of each line is one syllable
– the word “is” must be in each line

My additional rule: every stressed syllable should have a rhyme or a near rhyme in the second pair part of the couplet. (This one I believe I invented?)

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