The perfect haiku. I love it. We are crystalized today over here or up here...up here. I can only find one winter boot. Happens to me every year and then about Feb we get all ready to move south...lol
thanks ken. i usually just write it straight out, with no corrections. a poet friend of mine called sophie said i jus " spill my guts on the page ". a little graphic, but true - love and peace - paul.
i agree with you victoria, but i don't edit. i either write it out, or burn it. literally. your sister bonita is trying to talk me out of this by texting her lines before i burn them - love and peace - paul
thanks tash. you know the way i write tash. i gotta get it out of me, or i'll blow up. e - mail me. i've got a ridiculously funny story of my adventures today for you - love and peace - paul.
you are gangster tough, to even be able to say Zoe's name. I know how hard it is. it is a tough healing...and mam, She's watching down on you...making sure you eat right and get enough sleep. great poem, Paul
thanks wolfie. gotta be gangster tough to survive in this town.yeah. zoe was the one....eat and sleep right??? that'll be the day ha ha - love and peace - paul.
" the future is unwritten " - the clash. not much civilisation around here. i don't even know anyone who can spell the word.nice one tad - love and peace - paul.
Ok, no white sheet, exactly, but what about a white chicken? Or lots of white chickens? There’s a well known poem by William Carlos Williams that goes
so much depends upon
a red wheel barrow
glazed with rain water
beside the white chickens.
Poet Donald Hall parodied it by going to a thesaurus and rewriting the whole poem with synonyms for every word. It ended
in the approximate vicinity of the albino poultry.
And I thought, Oh, come on. There are lots of white chickens that aren’t albino. So I looked it up, and wrote a poem naming every variety of white chicken, often using the descriptive language of chicken site where I did my research.
WHAT’S THAT OVER BY THE WHEELBARROW?
in the approximate vicinity of the albino poultry.
Donald Hall
Whatever chicken, broad or narrow, That pecked beside that red wheelbarrow,
May have appeared, to judge or wino, It certainly was not albino.
Mr. Hall, a farmer-poet- New Hampshireman, should surely know it.
It may have been Ameraucana, Imported from Brazil or Ghana,
Both noted for abundant fauna. Perhaps the Rumpless Araucana
-- But could so much indeed depend On barnyard fowl with no rear end?
Aseel, Cochin, or Barnevelder (You won't forget one once you've held her),
The Cubalaya's a petite bird, but also Cuba's fighting meat bird.
Antwerp Belgian, Belgian D'Uccle Booted or Sabelpoot, a muckle,
Not likely it's a Chantecler, Even in Canada they're rare.
Cornish, Delaware (rare), Dorking, Dutch or Hamburg might be working,
To get an egg one fries or boils He might have chosen Faverolles,
For an egg that's truly fresh, Langshan, Phoenix, or La Fleche,
For oven or for frying pan American Holland, or Houdan.
Chabo or Japanese (still called Japs in some parts of the world).
Since so much depends upon her, Better not choose a Lamona,
Red-ear-lobed and quite distinct, But quite possibly extinct.
If the farm was near foreclosing Dr. Will might well have chosen
Leghorn , big and white and mean, The ultimate egg-lay machine.
He could have gone to court a dame With the Modern English Game,
The game bird with style and carriage (Courtship might then lead to marriage).
Or, if he's only after sex, Transylvanian Naked Necks
Enchant the girl who loves to swing Or Russian Orloff, that wild thing.
Orpington is big and friendly, Nothing fancy, nothing trendy
Plymouth Rock, Rhode Island White, Yokohama, Rosecomb might
Be dependable commodities, Not Silkie (oddity of oddities).
Wyandotte's the "bird of curves," Still, that might get on your nerves.
Sultan? No, it's all for show. Dr. William C. should go
For something local, large, compliant, Dependable -- the Jersey Giant.
With apologies to Donald Hall, William Carlos Williams, and poetry in general, and thanks to Ithaca College’s ICYouSee Handy-Dandy Chicken Chart
thanks victoria. i always like to take an oblique view of the promt and not do the obvious. thanks for reading. this is like gotpoetry back in the old days - love and peace - paul.
In the good old days, white sheets had cool pics we'd take a piece and have astounding internal flics people gave it different names, but it all had the same effect it made your thoughts go racing, wildly guessing and indirect.
White sheet cake is another party delight covered in frosting that tastes so right white sheets of paper can be bitter or sweet they can deal damnation or help our retreat
Sheets are soft and smooth on the skin so clean and fragrant to snuggle up in sheets of rain can dismally obscure our definition like our blanket acceptance of the human condition
we all have our white sheets and how we soil them is our choice a spit in the eye, a fight with your spouse maybe we keep our white sheets white
life hurts and it's not right when your sheets are dirty and your neighbors are clean but some stains just don't come out. They have to be hidden along with other secrets.
and we try to bury them but the only way to rid ourselves of horrid stains on pure white sheets is to set them on fire and burn them to ashes and start all over from scratch
Strong poem, and very telling. Thanks for this, you did a really interesting poem on the theme. Bleach doesn't always work, and fire does a cleansing job unfortunately destroying in the process. Well, new sheets are an option...Thanks!
love it young lady. really really good. some sheets get so stained and bloody, you have to rip them up and start again. love the way you totally lose it in the last verse. i can imagine you shouted that one - love and peace - paul.
The snowfall stretches sparkling in the sun, and everything before me is pristine, an all unblemished, tranquil winter scene depicting unity, with all as one. The children have not yet come out for fun, their footsteps trampling the pure white sheet expressing their delight with happy feet until the cover up is all but done.
For underneath this lovely sheet of white are sodden leaves of brown that once were bright, and withered vegetation crumbling, sere of all the weeds that grew and blossomed here. This pure white sheet of snow that greets the eye hides much from anyone who passes by.
Yea, I know what you mean. I love that first snowfall because it hides all those leaves and junk from fall. I especially love it the way you described it as pristine and unblemished...tranquil...
Nice envelope sonnet. Since you asked for suggestions: Line 3: maybe "still unblemished" to fit the meter better. Line 4 just doesn't fit with meter. I think you can do better. Line 6: Meter doesn't quite work here either, but more than that, I think you can come up with a stronger image for those first steps in the pristine snow.
I love the last six lines. They are perfect as they are.
Felt like a sonnet as it began to shape up so I went with the form. I think it could be improved--not the rhyme or rhythm but the expression itself. Any suggestions welcome.
i've got one more in me. this is about what's under the sheet. it's a bit scary and came close to burning...over 18's only ha ha.
THE DARKNESS
maybe it was the black corruption of her soul i love blacker than a coal mine, containing only one white dove
christmas is coming and i have no presents to wrap in the city, you always gotta watch for a back attack a mosaic. all dark stars it do lack if only insomnia would let me nap
maybe i was right all along and love is just a piece of crap a vicious man trap or maybe the next woman will prove me wrong
waited an eon to catch her eye and she still passed me by.
I'm happy that I decided to check to see if there were any late poems and sure enough there you were. I really enjoyed this piece of work. You painted a dismal picture of winter but it was all true...that's why I get depressed every year
metamorphosis,
ReplyDeletewinter crystalizes fall
raindrops to snowflakes.
The perfect haiku. I love it. We are crystalized today over here or up here...up here. I can only find one winter boot. Happens to me every year and then about Feb we get all ready to move south...lol
DeleteI agree, and nicely said (expressed) too.
Deletenice one victoria. gonna have to think about this one " white sheet " can apply to so many things.
ReplyDeletesheet of fine white snow, sparkles
ReplyDeleteuntouched by children's little feet
or hands
or shovels
satin wedding sheets, lonely, pure, white
taut and cold as the newly weds in between them
her hand over her eyes
she had a head ache
she asked him not the perpetrate the cake in the face
it felt like that huge white sheet cake
she was angry
he laughed, said it was all in fun
a large sheet of white paper, inviting words
the sentiment in the very middle, was profound
I will seek
and execute my own revenge.
I like the way it hopscotches impressionistically through time
Deletevery suggestive poem - a lot is said between the lines
DeleteI love the way you use so many different interpretations of "white sheet." Nice job!
DeleteI like your variety of interpretations, very clever.
Deletelike the way you shorten sentences and stories, to make the point. excellent wolfie - love and peace - paul.
ReplyDeletethank you Paul.I kinda liked the white sheet. All kinds of thoughts rolled through my brain. Even gory stuff like blood on the white sheets. lol
Deletewhite sheet could apply to a lot of things ( nice choice breanne ) but here is my interpretation.
ReplyDeleteHERE EYE AM
don't wanna be here
but i don't wanna anywhere else
" you say why and i say i dunno " - the beatles.
without my dear
without a lot of promise
saw my love zoe and my mam under a white sheet
didn't want to leave the hospital
the cruel world to greet
with nothing at all
the white light was calling under the white sheet
but i'm gangster tough and poets are the elite.
" if you must write prose and poems the words you use should be your own " - cemetery gates - the smiths.
I like the way you vary the line lengths - has a spontaneous feel which works very well for such a powerful subject
Deletethanks ken. i usually just write it straight out, with no corrections. a poet friend of mine called sophie said i jus " spill my guts on the page ". a little graphic, but true - love and peace - paul.
DeleteInteresting. I like your spontaneous poetry. I personally think your good poetry could be really great with some editing though.
DeleteI've always thought so too, Victoria, however this is his style, so...Good job, friend, sad, though.
Deletei agree with you victoria, but i don't edit. i either write it out, or burn it. literally. your sister bonita is trying to talk me out of this by texting her lines before i burn them - love and peace - paul
Deletethanks tash.
Deleteyou know the way i write tash. i gotta get it out of me, or i'll blow up. e - mail me. i've got a ridiculously funny story of my adventures today for you - love and peace - paul.
you are gangster tough, to even be able to say Zoe's name. I know how hard it is. it is a tough healing...and mam, She's watching down on you...making sure you eat right and get enough sleep. great poem, Paul
ReplyDeletethanks wolfie. gotta be gangster tough to survive in this town.yeah. zoe was the one....eat and sleep right??? that'll be the day ha ha - love and peace - paul.
DeleteBLANK SHEET
ReplyDeleteThis is the history of
a civilization so secret
it came to hide from itself
all proof of its having existed.
No one could say for sure
just where the gun emplacements
had been, or what could be gleaned
from actuarial tables
or even the lingering scent
of prostitutes in the morning.
I heard of it from a blind man
who may have been over one hundred
and could not tell me whether
he was the last of his race
or even what his race was.
He was sure of only two things:
Once he had been in love
and once there was a parade.
He remembered the drums and bugles,
the marching feet and the cheering.
Love the second last stanza - very moving poem
DeleteFor me it was the last stanza. It actually gave me chills.
DeleteFascinating and interesting. I like the mystery expressed here and unsolved yet poignant.
Delete" the future is unwritten " - the clash.
ReplyDeletenot much civilisation around here. i don't even know anyone who can spell the word.nice one tad - love and peace - paul.
Here's a little tribute to Jimi Hendrix:
ReplyDeletea mountain
on the roof of my car
glittering white
I chop it down
with the edge of my hand
see you all along the watchtower ken.
DeleteLOL. Been there, done that. I sometimes miss living where it snows a lot, but not usually.
DeleteCLEVER!!! Love your sense of humor.
DeleteUnexpected and vivid.
ReplyDeleteOk, no white sheet, exactly, but what about a white chicken? Or lots of white chickens? There’s a well known poem by William Carlos Williams that goes
ReplyDeleteso much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
Poet Donald Hall parodied it by going to a thesaurus and rewriting the whole poem with synonyms for every word. It ended
in the approximate vicinity
of the albino poultry.
And I thought, Oh, come on. There are lots of white chickens that aren’t albino. So I looked it up, and wrote a poem naming every variety of white chicken, often using the descriptive language of chicken site where I did my research.
WHAT’S THAT OVER BY THE WHEELBARROW?
in the approximate vicinity
of the albino poultry.
Donald Hall
Whatever chicken, broad or narrow,
That pecked beside that red wheelbarrow,
May have appeared, to judge or wino,
It certainly was not albino.
Mr. Hall, a farmer-poet-
New Hampshireman, should surely know it.
It may have been Ameraucana,
Imported from Brazil or Ghana,
Both noted for abundant fauna.
Perhaps the Rumpless Araucana
-- But could so much indeed depend
On barnyard fowl with no rear end?
Aseel, Cochin, or Barnevelder
(You won't forget one once you've held her),
The Cubalaya's a petite bird,
but also Cuba's fighting meat bird.
Antwerp Belgian, Belgian D'Uccle
Booted or Sabelpoot, a muckle,
Not likely it's a Chantecler,
Even in Canada they're rare.
Cornish, Delaware (rare), Dorking,
Dutch or Hamburg might be working,
To get an egg one fries or boils
He might have chosen Faverolles,
For an egg that's truly fresh,
Langshan, Phoenix, or La Fleche,
For oven or for frying pan
American Holland, or Houdan.
Chabo or Japanese (still called
Japs in some parts of the world).
Since so much depends upon her,
Better not choose a Lamona,
Red-ear-lobed and quite distinct,
But quite possibly extinct.
If the farm was near foreclosing
Dr. Will might well have chosen
Leghorn , big and white and mean,
The ultimate egg-lay machine.
He could have gone to court a dame
With the Modern English Game,
The game bird with style and carriage
(Courtship might then lead to marriage).
Or, if he's only after sex,
Transylvanian Naked Necks
Enchant the girl who loves to swing
Or Russian Orloff, that wild thing.
Orpington is big and friendly,
Nothing fancy, nothing trendy
Plymouth Rock, Rhode Island White,
Yokohama, Rosecomb might
Be dependable commodities,
Not Silkie (oddity of oddities).
Wyandotte's the "bird of curves,"
Still, that might get on your nerves.
Sultan? No, it's all for show.
Dr. William C. should go
For something local, large, compliant,
Dependable -- the Jersey Giant.
With apologies to Donald Hall, William Carlos Williams, and poetry in general, and thanks to Ithaca College’s ICYouSee Handy-Dandy Chicken Chart
LOL. Amazing when you have a poem where you have to apologize to multiple people. It did make me laugh.
DeleteOMG what an effort!!! This really takes the cake--sheet or no.
Deletebut what came first. the white chicken, or the white egg? - love and peace - paul.
ReplyDeleteone more poem and i'll behave. wrote this last night at some drunken god forsaken time in the morning.
ReplyDeleteVODKA AND PIZZA ( none rhyming except by accident poem )
she doesn't care about me
all she wants is vodka, heroin and pizza for tea
and in the infinity of possible retaliations
all words are magic
that is the beginning of wisdom
fear of the word
secret words open and close doors
they are like keys
that's why our names and identities have been used to endanger those we love the most
that's why a promise to heal has ensnared a world
and a quack in the dead man's ward can keep a white sheet unfurled.
dedicated to a friend of mine, who isn't very well.
Wow. I really like this one. I hadn't thought about a surrender flag being a white sheet. Great take on the prompt.
DeleteI like it too, and l like the hip-hop feel of the rhyme where you have it. Maybe could put in a bit more.
DeleteVery good and very biting. YOu do your best sometimes when you are angry, or expressing your deep feelings uncensored.
Deletethanks victoria. i always like to take an oblique view of the promt and not do the obvious. thanks for reading. this is like gotpoetry back in the old days - love and peace - paul.
Deletethanks tad. actually i did write a bit more, which i'll post soon, if i can get this fricken computer to behave - paul.
Deletea woman told me once, that i write my best stuff when i'm love lorn, drunken and suicidal.....hell! don't all poets? - love and peace - paul.
DeleteWhite Sheet Treat
ReplyDeleteIn the good old days, white sheets had cool pics
we'd take a piece and have astounding internal flics
people gave it different names, but it all had the same effect
it made your thoughts go racing, wildly guessing and indirect.
White sheet cake is another party delight
covered in frosting that tastes so right
white sheets of paper can be bitter or sweet
they can deal damnation or help our retreat
Sheets are soft and smooth on the skin
so clean and fragrant to snuggle up in
sheets of rain can dismally obscure our definition
like our blanket acceptance of the human condition
Nice, but I actually wish you'd continued the acid direction. And interesting take on the prompt.
Delete" the doctor said, your in a human condition " - canned heat.
Deletewere the good old days really that good my friend? - love and peace - paul.
we all have our white sheets
ReplyDeleteand how we soil them is our choice
a spit in the eye, a fight with your spouse
maybe we keep our white sheets white
life hurts and it's not right when your
sheets are dirty and your neighbors are clean
but some stains just don't come out. They
have to be hidden along with other secrets.
and we try to bury them but the only way to
rid ourselves of horrid stains on pure white sheets
is to set them on fire and burn them to ashes
and start all over from scratch
Strong poem, and very telling. Thanks for this, you did a really interesting poem on the theme. Bleach doesn't always work, and fire does a cleansing job unfortunately destroying in the process. Well, new sheets are an option...Thanks!
DeleteI really enjoyed your poem and your prompt this week. You're starting to get pretty good at this!!!
DeleteWow. Love the last stanza in particular. This is one of those really good poems I think has potential to be an awesomely great poem!
Deletelove it young lady. really really good. some sheets get so stained and bloody, you have to rip them up and start again. love the way you totally lose it in the last verse. i can imagine you shouted that one - love and peace - paul.
DeleteWhite Sheet of Purity
ReplyDeleteThe snowfall stretches sparkling in the sun,
and everything before me is pristine,
an all unblemished, tranquil winter scene
depicting unity, with all as one.
The children have not yet come out for fun,
their footsteps trampling the pure white sheet
expressing their delight with happy feet
until the cover up is all but done.
For underneath this lovely sheet of white
are sodden leaves of brown that once were bright,
and withered vegetation crumbling, sere
of all the weeds that grew and blossomed here.
This pure white sheet of snow that greets the eye
hides much from anyone who passes by.
Yea, I know what you mean. I love that first snowfall because it hides all those leaves and junk from fall. I especially love it the way you described it as pristine and unblemished...tranquil...
DeleteThank you so much. It is lovely of you to comment and I appreciate you and your words.
DeleteNice envelope sonnet. Since you asked for suggestions:
DeleteLine 3: maybe "still unblemished" to fit the meter better.
Line 4 just doesn't fit with meter. I think you can do better.
Line 6: Meter doesn't quite work here either, but more than that, I think you can come up with a stronger image for those first steps in the pristine snow.
I love the last six lines. They are perfect as they are.
nice one tash. the illusion of a pristine virgin whiteness covering up the dirt and the rot. excellent - love and peace - paul.
DeleteFelt like a sonnet as it began to shape up so I went with the form. I think it could be improved--not the rhyme or rhythm but the expression itself. Any suggestions welcome.
ReplyDeletei've got one more in me. this is about what's under the sheet. it's a bit scary and came close to burning...over 18's only ha ha.
ReplyDeleteTHE DARKNESS
maybe it was the black corruption of her soul i love
blacker than a coal mine, containing only one white dove
christmas is coming and i have no presents to wrap
in the city, you always gotta watch for a back attack
a mosaic. all dark
stars it do lack
if only insomnia would let me nap
maybe i was right all along
and love is just a piece of crap
a vicious man trap
or maybe the next woman will prove me wrong
waited an eon to catch her eye
and she still passed me by.
I'm glad this didn't end up on the burn pile. It is a sensitive piece of literature. I could feel the emotion...
ReplyDeleteit got a little singed, but i'm sick of the smoke detector going off ha ha. thanks wolfie. bonita saved this poem actually - love and puppies - paul.
DeleteFinally found some inspiration:
ReplyDeleteI no longer live
in winter
no desire for aching
bones, frozen toes,
black snowdrifts, black ice.
It snows here
two days, two inches, melts.
Karl mentions snow
on the mountaintops
as we drive.
I want the car to climb
mountains, search for
the pockets, find snow,
white sheets that
promise new beginnings.
I'm happy that I decided to check to see if there were any late poems and sure enough there you were. I really enjoyed this piece of work. You painted a dismal picture of winter but it was all true...that's why I get depressed every year
ReplyDeletei hate the winter, but like your winter poem victoria. white sheet proved a very productive promt. hope my ones do the same - love and peace - paul.
ReplyDelete