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annh Dec 2021
Me,
Standing
Underneath
A swamp cypress
******* at an orange while the rain falls

~

Tacky fingered and smelling of citrus
T-shirt front stained
Warm with juice,
I taste
You.

‘When oranges came in, a curious proceeding was gone through. Miss Jenkyns did not like to cut the fruit, for, as she observed, the juice all ran out nobody knew where, ******* [only I think she used some more recondite word] was in fact the only way of enjoying oranges; but then there was the unpleasant association with a ceremony frequently gone through by little babies; and so, after dessert, in orange season, Miss Jenkyns and Miss Matty used to rise up, possess themselves each of an orange in silence, and withdraw to the privacy of their own rooms to indulge in ******* oranges.’
- Elizabeth Gaskell, Cranford
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2020

For
love is
a gamble,
I'll give all I
have or nothing at all to feel your warmth


Tried out a new form of poetry, a tetractys, which was invented by Ray Stebbing.
It consisted of 5 lines and with the syllabic count of 1-2-3-4-10.
I tried this out now with a quote I've had written for a while now,
and it fits!
I may try a double and triple tetractys poem later, haha!
It feels so good to try different forms of writing!
Be back soon with more!
Much love,
Lyn x
pistachio Aug 2020
Dusts
Wistful
Dry powder
Of lost moments
Specks of melancholy and heartaches
A tetractys poem. Have a good read!
annh Apr 2020
Spin,
Mister
Fisherman,
Throw me a line;
A fluttering lure of burnished vowel chimes

Bait, braid and bailor - snap, swivel and fly;
Dub well your quill,
Hook me low,
Run me
High

‘The reality, however, is that fishing is about the closest you can get to physically experiencing poetry. It is a pursuit based on contemplation and solitude that involves an appreciation of the elements; it is a game of chance, hope, escapism; a step into the murky waters of the unknown. There is little difference between the angler setting forth on a misty dawn and the poet staring at the blank page. Both are hoping for greatness, but will settle for a brief silvery flash of the transcendental brilliance that lies beneath the surface.‘
- Ben Myers

Fishing parlance is a language as complex and arcane as the sport itself. What a happy coincidence to discover that a ‘quill’ in angler-speak refers to a float (or bobber). How ‘bout that? ;)
pistachio Nov 2019
Moon
smiles
Though the sky
Gets dark and sad
Becomes more resplendent,
Luster, an optimistic satellite
Though its alone in the dim firmament
Its sheen does not waver
Gives a wider,
Brighter,
Beam
annh Oct 2019
Why,
You ask,
Use ten words
When two will do?

‘Cos a pair is always eight words too few.
‘"The efficiency of the cleaning solution in liquefying wizards suggested the operation of an antithetical principal, which--"
"Did you have to get him started?" Cimorene asked reproachfully.’
- Patricia C. Wrede, Calling On Dragons
annh Oct 2019
I
tilted
my halo
at life, for kicks;
and life kicked back.
A failed tetractys: 1-2-3-4-10. And a variation on 'Temptation'.

‘The angel came, the angel saw, the angel fell.’
- Alexandra Adornetto, Halo
annh Nov 2019
Grease
Wagon
Paper cups,
Hot chips and sauce;
Sticky fingers dip in for just one more...

...bite!

I’m thinking ‘grease wagon’ may need some explanation. Not sure whether it’s Ocker, Kiwi, Mainland, or scarfie (i.e. student) lingo but it’s what we’ve always called mobile tuck shops that sell...well, ‘greasies’.

‘I despise formal restaurants. I would much rather eat potato chips on the sidewalk.’
- Werner Herzog
annh Sep 2019
Up
At five,
Rummaging
For matching socks;
I meet my train, asymmetrically dressed.

‘Improbable as it may be, the day still has a few indignities left.’
- Colson Whitehead, The Colossus of New York
annh Aug 2019
red
neon
rain spattered
pavements teeming;
one thousand prismatic shades of meaning

graffiti-laden puddles splish, splosh, splash;
as midnight turns
to blue, and
dawn to
ash

‘I walked up, and I walked down, and I walked straight into a delicately dying sky, and finally the sequence of observed and observant things brought me, at my usual eating time, to a street so distant from my usual eating place that I decided to try a restaurant which stood on the fringe of the town. Night had fallen without sound or ceremony when I came out again.’
- Vladimir Nabokov, The Vane Sisters
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