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!)

Miss Connections (Hour Fourteen, A Hall of Mirrors Hay(na)ku)

 

Miss Connections

 

The only thing

in this

life

I’ve 

ever been

any good at

is taking words

and turning

them

into 

a message

meant to motivate

most folks like

me and

you.

I’ve

shared so

many magic moments,

created countless connections,

all options

which

afforded

me such

a golden opportunity

to reach out

to the

broken,

letting

them know

they’re not alone.

 

(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.)

Home for the Holi-daze (Hour Thirteen, a Nontraditional Minute Poem)

Home for the Holi-daze

 

Friends are the family we choose.

Bound not by blood,

loved “just because”,

let’s celebrate!

 

We gather ’round and bless the feast

before feeding

hungry faces.

Time for our naps.

 

We disburse and pick our places.

Turn on the game,

flip off the lights.

It’s Thanksgiving.

 

(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!)

The Cheeky King (Hour Twelve, A Shadorma)

The Cheeky King

 

The king cried

out atop his throne.

“Let’s go, girls,Pick ‘n Pull!

Stuff emblems between your cheeks

once your bags are full!”

 

(A shadorma is a six line poem where the syllable count for each line is as follows: 3/5/3/3/7/5.)

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