The art of dialogue is not hard to master:
you shout top-voice above prevailing storms.
The fittest lungs pierce lint-fuzzed matter.
Your ground-hugging pessimism forever warns
them off fangling a-new what has not worked in the past.
It’s this storming of brains got us in a mess in first place!
Time to rant, hone your leadership skills and craft.
Mind not the barbarians nor bigots at the gates.
Good luck, hugs, in fellowship,
your HR team, who’ve taken refuge ashore.
What? Don’t you like the cut of our jib?
We are reviving the lost art of letter writing over at dVerse Poets. Mine is a tongue-in-cheek corporate newsletter, ostensibly asking for leadership courage. But we all know what that means in corporate speak…
A bottle of grains flung in the sand
harvest moon pregnant with damp
a world of murmurs subsiding to buzz
autographs given with minimum fuss
I wonder where all unspeakable is kept
in what tangle of lies it is wrapped
I wonder when we shall be whole
when the ravenous beast is full.
This is an experiment with near-rhymes or slant-rhymes, which are words that almost rhyme but not quite. As a very auditory person (I used to record lessons in high school, so that I could learn them better), I love playing around with rhymes and rhythms. I usually do far too little of that in my poetry.
This is the 100th poem that I’m posting to this blog – my hundredth poem since I started writing again in February 2012. It may not feel like much, an average of 5 a month, but it is such an improvement to my previous (zero) output! I can also report a change in attitude towards poetry. I used to think of it as a form of procrastination (to avoid having to deal with my novel). But I have now come to love it in its own right, to actually work at it and try out new things. In no small part, thanks to such a fantastic group as the dVerse Poets, so I’m dedicating my 100th poem to them.