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MicMag Jul 2018
I've witnessed a beauty
I can't describe
That speaks to my soul
As it swims through my eyes
The silent sounds
Sneak into my mind
The taste lingers on
Leaving sweetness behind
The scent creeps up
To slowly remind
Of the touch that once felt
Makes all else fade
Til only your beauty
Pure beauty remains

There's nothing else
Your beauty remains
Old found poem.
MicMag Jul 2018
One?
Done
Fun?
None

One


If two?
Pass through
Will do
And you?

That's two


How bout three?
Shall we see?
Bit more free
Works for me

So says three


Can we try four?
It gives us more
Not such a bore
Crack wide that door

Lead us on, four


Would we dare do five?
Tis too high to strive?
I do love this jive
Let's stop while still live

Safe with lines of five


But hear the cry of six
It tempts as time still ticks
It's not just a quick fix
But adds to this great mix

Yes, hear that call of six


Rules change as we reach seven
Words lengthen, stretch to heaven
Lines rise like bread so leavened

The changes wrought by seven


Hard as the end draws near with eight
Liked this before, now's not so great
Long lines I don't appreciate

Thanks for nothing, unruly eight


Entering the danger zone with nine
Meaning gets lost by end of the line
Despite the trouble, guess we'll be fine

Phew, we just made it through there with nine


And finally we arrive here to ten
What an intriguing journey this has been
I'm so relieved now to be at the end

So long, good night, let's sign off now with ten
But who's counting? :)

Some people love playing with words. Others like to play with numbers.
Why not both?!

This was a bit of a whimsical experiment in letting the numbers dictate the form.

The number of syllables per line corresponds to the number in the stanza's first line.
I went with one syllable words until seven forced one style change with its two syllables and another change with its lack of good rhymes.
Numbers are beautiful, aren't they?

I was tempted to continue beyond ten, but... Can I count on you to keep it going?! ;)
MicMag Jul 2018
"Quibbling over the minutiae of form
Is indicative of failure to grasp the spirit"
Or so my grandpa always warned
So if you're here to argue, I don't want to hear it

If our debates are merely petty
If our disagreements are trite
Let's work to keep our egos steady
And not just simply fight to be right
No idea about the origin of the saying, but my mom and her siblings heard it so much growing up they can all chant it in unison.

If only we'd all take it to heart.
MicMag Jul 2018
My vacation is ending
Don't want to go back
Relaxation's been trending
So cut me some slack

Savoring time
On this great getaway
All so sublime
Don't throw it away

Which would you choose
If given election?
Diversion with views
Or desk-job dejection?

Surely you'll understand
My utter dismay
Even lend me a hand
To rediscover the way

How can I cope
As I reintegrate?
Should I just say nope
Or pretend it's all great?

Back to life with the locals
The doom so impending
Hesitation so vocal
My vacation is ending
All good things must come to an end.
Or some other cliché crap
to cope with my denial.
Back to the grind,
Dreaming of the next escape!
MicMag Jul 2018
Alpacas aren't llamas they say
Though they won't give details away
But I've got a hunch
So I'll-pack-a lunch
Head out for field research today
On a llama limerick kick lately

Part 1: https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2615845/llimerick/
MicMag Jul 2018
Sometimes


I fall
Into a bottomless pit

Of despair



Other times



It's a bottomless chasm
The intense realization of utter insignificance is profoundly distressing and in occasional brief moments infinitely insurmountable.
MicMag Jul 2018
Walked through a field full of llamas
Wooly babies, papas, and mamas
But these llamas were purists
And spat on this tourist
Turning excitement to trauma
"Don't you want to pet the llamas too?!"
"No thanks."
"Come on! Why not?!
"OK, fine."
*five seconds later I'm covered in llama saliva

LLimerick 2:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2619328/llimerick-2/
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