Hips Don’t Lie But Your Eyes Do (Hour Twenty Three, A Hall of Mirrors Hay(na)ku)

Hips Don’t Lie But Your Eyes Do

I saw the

flickering flame

of

desire

burning brightly

in your eyes,

heard your heartbeat

pick up

the

pace

every time

she walked by.

You once looked

at me

that

way,

with stars

in your eyes.

Time has taken

its toll

upon

my

broken body,

but I’m still

the same inside.

Let love

reignite

ashes

of passion,

long since dead.

(A hay(na)ku is a three line poem where the only rule is that the first line is made up of one word, the second line of two words, and the third line of three words. A reverse hay(na)ku is a three line poem composed in the opposite manner, so line one would be three words, line two is two words, and line three would be just one word. During the 2019 Poetry Marathon, I combined these two styles to create what I called the “mirror hay(na)ku”. This time, I have taken things a step further with the “Hall of Mirrors Hay(na)ku”, which is composed of five separate mirror hay(na)ku stanzas.)

Keep Going, Granny (Hour Twenty Two, An ABC Poem)

Keep Going, Granny

Lightning flashed and thunder cracked as the skies split open up above us, leaving our last line of defense (the weathered windshield wipers) rendered useless against the raging of the rain.

My sister sat in the shotgun seat beside me, believing the back seat by far the safest space for my gorgeous granddaughter, the six-year-old sweetheart, while we drove on down the highway in a hurry to get home.

“Next exit, I’ll pull over and find a service station or someplace safe where we can wait out these stupid storms unless….you can see to drive and wanna tempt fate and take the wheel?” I practically pleaded with her.

Opening her eyes wider in incredulity, she refocused her attention on the world outside the windshield, where blackened asphalt blended with the darkness of the skies, growing ever deeper.

Without one ounce of hesitation, completely confident as only a child could be, came the tiny voice from the back seat, saying, “Don’t pull over, Granny, just keep on going — I can still see.”

 

(An ABC poem is made up of a single stanza of five lines and can cover any subject. The first letter of each of the first four lines follows alphabetical order – you can start with any letter you like. The first letter of the fifth and final line can begin with any letter.)

Mixed Signals (Hour Twenty One, A Nonet)

 

Mixed Signals

 

We wander this world with phones in hand

forever looking down, getting

lost inside the screen, afraid

to miss one message, we

never lift our eyes

to drink in the

scenery

drawn for

us.

 

 

(A nonet is composed of nine lines, where the first line has 9 syllables, the second line has 8 syllables, and so forth until the final line is only one syllable, so the poem appears to be slowly vanishing.)

Sentenced (Hour Twenty, A Tricube)

SeNtEnCeD

 

black and blue

bloody nose

busted lip

 

broken arm

concussion

two less teeth

 

that’s the price

she had paid

to be free

 

(A tricube is a poem made up of three stanzas. Each stanza has three lines, and each line has three syllables.)

The Comfort Zone (Hour Eighteen, A Three Way Stop Sign Poem)

The Comfort Zone

I’ve never been the kind of gal

who freely gives her hugs away.

But when I can sense someone is

struggling, heart heavy with sorrow,

my instincts trump anxieties

and antisocial tendencies.

Without words of explanation,

hindered not by hesitation,

 

I step beyond my comfort zone,

hoping to bring back the broken,

letting love lead us to the light.

Human touch heals the hopelessness

of mourners lamenting the loss

of a loved one, lessening the

loneliness of those left behind.

In that brief but bless-ed moment,

 

compassion connects us, building

bridges across distances the

Devil designed to divide us.

By God’s grace, we stand united

through that most meaningful moment

when one soul reached for another,

sharing strength and hope and comfort,

showing a Love like no other.

 

(A stop sign is a format I created on a whim as I wrote this. I called it a stop sign because there are eight lines in each stanza, and eight syllables per line. As I added stanzas, I decided each stanza should represent a stop from a different direction. Therefore, since this poem has three stanzas, it has been crowned a three way stop sign.)

#11. Shangri La

I’ve never been to Shangri La
I hear it’s quite divine
between the ageless populace
and lack of health decline.

I saw the movie long ago
and read a book or two
but never have I ventured forth
into the Mystic blue.

I’d like to visit Shangri La
I’m sure it’s all they say
but then again, to be within
my heart is here today.

Silent Struggle (Hour Fifteen, A Nontraditional Minute Poem)

SiLeNt StRuGgLe

 

For the first time in forever,

self-expression

is a struggle,

blocked by my mind.

 

Many truths need to be spoken.

I move my mouth

but hear no noise.

I’ve lost my voice.

 

Ev’ry word I want escapes me.

I can’t focus,

brain feels foggy.

Where is my muse?

 

Without words, I’m left with nothing.

They’re the one thing

I understand.

Worthless, I weep.

 

(A traditional minute poem is made up of 60 syllables divided between three stanzas. The four lines of each stanza will have a syllabic count of 8/4/4/4. Typically, these poems are written in strict iambic meter and follow a rhyme scheme of aabb, ccdd, eeff. This version, the nontraditional, eliminates the tough stuff like meter and scheme and works well whether you’re exhausted, like me, or just lazy — also like me!)

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