I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')
Some of these poems are autobiographical, some are entirely fictional, and some are a mixture of both. The intention is art rather than self-expression. I don't allow factual details to get in the way of poetry! (I do seek emotional truth.)
They are works in progress, and may be subject to revision without notice. Completed versions appear in my books. Nevertheless copyright applies to all texts found here. Copyright also applies to almost all photos posted here, though a few are licensed under Creative Commons.
Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your posts as much as possible.
Description: This form was created by people associated with Sol’s Magazine.
The form is a set of three quatrains:
A Sicilian quatrain (four lines iambic pentameter rhymed abab),
A quatrain of “short and snappy” free verse, and
A quatrain of blank verse (unrhymed iambic pentameter).
The twelfth line is the same as the first.
Attributed to: Eve Braden, Frieda Dorris and Robert Simonton Submitted for dVerse OpenLinkNight #72
(His father is dead and his brother is lost to us.)
mobile phones —
and his new girlfriend.
At Easter they'll come to visit.
(Small core of family left, we're glad of each other.)
flooded and under
water — that city of water —
of sparkling, of singing water.
Now too much water
We entered the dark of the moon.
Roses were growing
messages of life
continuing to spend itself.
Fibonacci poems (aka fibs) are syllabic, based on the fibonacci numerical sequence in which each number is added to the preceding to make the next. Zero is understood at the beginning, so the syllables then go:
Theoretically one could keep going, but in a poem that would get more and more unwieldy. It's usual to stop at 8, but not uncommon to continue to 13. And then, as you see, one can vary the form by doubling, reversing, etc. Submitted for Poets United's Poetry Pantry #124