Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #18

Micropoetry MonthYesterday’s experiment with tanka impels me  to take it further with ‘Tanka Prose’. Like a haibun but with a signature tanka instead of a haiku, this is an excellent form to stretch one’s imagination and word crafting skills even further.

Try this or any other form of micropoetry and share using comments or Mister Linky.

Without Words

For days we climbed together. Sometimes they disappeared into the mist ahead, sometimes they lingered on the edges. I could always hear their whispered voices, even as the sky slipped closer. But now the words are gone and I have been orphaned by the need to speak. In their soundless absence, the river is just one ceaseless motion, the moon in it is just a point of reflection and this moment is both big enough to fill the universe and small enough to tremble as the cold wind rushes by. What will the birds call me if I do not have a name?

on the other side
of the horizon-
the eagle’s wing
dips into
the silent dark



Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #17

Micropoetry MonthA couple of tanka this Friday morning!
The beauty of tanka comes from the juxtaposition of disparate images, the gentle twist, the tug of emotion.

Try a tanka or two! Share your own micropoetry using comments or Mister Linky.


candles and flowers,
an impromptu memorial
where the horror struck-
one goodbye on a page ripped
from a new school book


the moon and I
like strangers
in an elevator-
trying not to look
at each other


Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #16

Micropoetry MonthSeems like a Shadorma kind of morning! If you’re new to the form, it is a six line poem following the 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllable count.
Give it a shot or share any micropoem using comments or Mister Linky.



evening train
for a little while
it was us
and the sun
and our words briefly touching
through the dark tunnels


in his bag
buried in a book
about birds
and fairies
a bent origami crane
that would never fly


Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #15

Micropoetry MonthSome mornings, a random headline catches your eye and spreads itself out in neat lines into a poem…all by itself. Of course, on other days the words just stare back at you while your muse leaves in a huff, banging the door shut behind her.

This one was in response to something that popped up in the news about yet another discovery in outer space.

Share your micropoetry- in any form- using comments or Mister Linky. If a headline inspires you, let it!

they say they discovered something recently, a
planet, a dwarf, a failed star (nomenclature has

to be irrelevant beyond a few thousand light years),
bigger than Jupiter, how colossal is Jupiter, how

mammoth is this galaxy, is there another at the end
of this gargantuan universe. See, the words I have for

‘big’ are only as large as my mind will allow, even
its wonder is constrained by the size of its own

incomprehension, this is the mind, you have to
understand, that keeps its cosmic incredulity, its

moons and meteors and gilt edged heavens in a safely
distant sky so that it can still believe I am significant.



Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #14

Micropoetry MonthRevisiting the Cherita today, a six line story-poem form invented by Ai-Li. If you haven’t tried it before, it is broken into three verses, the first verse has 1 line, the second has 2 and the third has 3.

Tell a story, write a poem… share using comments or Mister Linky. If you wish, try using the words monk, dragonfly and rain in your poem.


the old monk’s begging bowl

half filled with
morning rain

a dragonfly
hovers in the
half emptiness


Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #13

Micropoetry MonthSome ekphrastic poetry today.  Add to the thousand words the picture already says! Find an image that inspires you and write about it using any form of micropoetry. Share your poem using comments or Mister Linky.

This poem was just published at  Visual Verse (Chapter 1 of Vol 5, Nov 2017).


I haggled like a regular
at a Turkish bazaar,
who pays top rate
for used things anyway,
see that verdigris
inching around the bottom?
He gave it to me in the end
in an oily brown paper bag,
the smell of the past
still trapped in it.
It wasn’t until later,
the wine still warm in my hand,
the moon in my throat,
that I let the tears fall.
After all, alone can be lonely
even in the company
of a battered
half-price soul.


Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017: #12

Micropoetry MonthHaibun is a wonderful style because lets you combine prose and poetry in a beautifully fluid way. Basho, the master, wrote it in such a simple, effortless style making his work timeless.
I have two rules for myself. 1. Keep the prose short. 2. The haiku should derive from the prose without being repetitive in word or content.

Write your own haibun or any other form of micropoetry and share using comments or good old Mister Linky!

It was the kind of morning that had all the answers – the square of anticipation, the differential of despondency, the coefficient of human failure. Hanging from the sky like a picture frame behind which we had once hidden the dark, its colours dissolving into sunshine streams, its birds flying in formation beyond its corners. It was the kind of morning that should dawn after a night like that. After you left, after I stayed, after I gathered the pieces, not knowing if they could ever be put back together again. The improbability of hope.

shrinking dusk
the lone raven steals
the last of the light