The owl spirit animal is emblematic of a deep connection with wisdom and intuitive knowledge. When the spirit of the animal guides you, you can perceive the true reality and see beyond illusion and deceit.
The Crapsey Cinquain is a five-line, non-rhyming poem featuring a syllable structure of 2-4-6-8-2. Choose words that create drama that builds into the fourth line. The turn occurs on line five, the most important line. This is where you change your focus away from the drama in some interesting way. Cinquain poems need a title.
If you are a regular at our pub, you know the drill. For those new to Q, write a verse of exact 44 words (excluding the title) using pepper or any form of the word like peppering, peppered or peppermint.
Salt and pepper on your food, Should be applied according to taste. To presume regularity totally rude. Salt and pepper on your food. A restaurant argument once ensued, All civility abruptly erased! Salt and pepper on your food, Should be applied according to taste.
A Quatern is a sixteen line French form composed of four quatrains. It is similar to the Kyrielle and the Retourne. It has a refrain that is in a different place in each quatrain. The first line of stanza one is the second line of stanza two, third line of stanza three, and fourth line of stanza four.
Manhood belongs not to the meek. All honor is won at a cost. A reticent life unworthy. All you value easily lost.
I was once unsure just like you. Manhood belongs not to the meek. So, stand tall when facing this world. Cowards never find what they seek.
My hands are broken, my back is bent, And my job is most nearly done. Manhood belongs not to the meek. Time to fight your battles, my son.
Those gentle eyes and chiseled chin, Are signs that you’ll reach your own peak. Kind men guard the common ‘good’, ‘Cuz, Manhood belongs not to the meek.
Today, let’s explore memory! Write a haibun that alludes to memory, any way you construe it.
When I was young and watched Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds” for the first time, it didn’t scare me. This was because I had made friends with birds long before. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t joyfully aware of, and assured by, their presence. Today as I stepped outdoors, my ears automatically scanned for birdsongs. They always have. I cannot count the number of times I’ve interrupted conversations to acknowledge them. Once during my day care years, a grandmother of one of my kids told me that her little grandson had grabbed her arm during a walk and had yanked her to a stop saying, “Hear that? That’s Mr. Blue Jay, Grandma!” She also added, “I have no doubt that came from you.”
Bird songs remind me Of heartfelt captured moments. Children grow too fast.
Since so many other online writers have blogs dedicated to their writings, I’ve decided to jump onto the bandwagon. All posts published here will be either fiction or poetry, some new, and some previously published on various places on the Internet. Some of my works are conventional, and some are quirky. All fiction posted here, except for fan fiction, will include the letters "rose" somewhere, as a tribute to my Baba.