OMG, this, chat,
IMHO.
OTOH, YMMV.
AITA?
FAFO, LOL!
GTG, TTYL.
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tanka, no tanka
just syllabification
a lingua franca
a certain formulation
in need of a vacation
hoping sensation
engaged form degradation
brought indignation,
abhorrence, irritation
and requests for cessation
The wife was sure in the mood
To jump the bones of some dude
But found at her toes
Pinocchio's nose
Geppetto misunderstood!
the bottom lines scripted peripheries in a mirror
a headline toppled and reversed time and place
left became right and wrong pretended its centre
denuded illusions spoke in forked shiny tongues
lingua franca became subversive and spun yarns
and the spike of a spindle put wool over her eyes
prologues anticipated an apocalyptic message
hindsight firmly foreclosed unhinged shutters
framed in warped memories she recollected
blinds and veiled faces curtained in rags
holes and apertures appeared in the lore
essence void of existence smudged in tears
she relived captions and small printed subtexts
post-scripted antecedents and false premises
edited reminders and pasted virtuous contrasts
until meaning blocked out the pain of denial
a book mark covered in dust had refused to fade
and sealed approval onto questions and doubts
22nd June 2020
Por favor, senor
I ask a favor, no more
Hablo ingles, no espanol
You'll get my whole bankroll...
I
English showcases Joseph Conrad, Dickens, James Joyce, Tagore
Conrad, once a Pole, Joyce may be Irish, Tagore -Indian of course
In political terms, England rocketed after 1558, besting the Spanish
Our 'lingua franca' changed from Spanish to the Queens English
II
That is all the good news, "I am afraid to say," -
Did you just hear me spout negativity
Conjuring up spirits,yes FEAR IS A DARK SPIRIT
That creeps in casually, as in pat phrases ("Watch and Pray")
III
Proverbs reminds us, "Life and death are in the tongue,"
And "I could kill myself I didn't know this early in life."
Again, the words that allow spirits against LIFE a welcome
Recall this, "My back is killing me," and "I would die for my wife!"
IV
Poets, there are stock Phrases: "idioms." They made me an idiot
About the Spirit world, shooting myself in my own foot (to boot)
So, I pledge to forsake words that speak of death and jovial killing
Because the Being inside us, the BE-ING, is also a "Human Doing"
Under the Sea (English Sonnet)
I’d like to go beneath the sea
exploring wonders down below
where fish and creatures dwell for free
and undeterred the currents flow.
A submarine like Nemo had
would serve me well to venture deep.
This would not be a passing fad
or an adventure on the cheap.
Submerged Atlantis I would seek
Poseidon, too, trident in hand;
a lingua franca we could speak
for Greek is hard to understand!
I’d like to go beneath the sea
then share with you its mystery.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
An English sonnet follows the pattern 'abab cdcd efef gg'.
Every line should be ten syllables long, but in this case an
exception has been made, thus 8 syllables are being used.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest: Where I Want to Go
Sponsor: Nicola Byrne
Placed 2nd
© 3rd March 2017
Emptiness spreads.
A growl like
a death rattle,
I hear in the darkness.
I throw my eyes out.
Its tail wags
through the centuries
as our gene
journeys through
the generations.
Its hue is white
like my dad’s heart.
Love seems burning bright
in its brownish eyes.
A strange dog.
It rides its nose up
a waste hill
of paper plates.
Its saliva, as my dad’s
craving for life,
falls down and
dissolves in soil.
It is not a ghost,
but a deep love’s ….
Now Silence is
our lingua franca.
Published in Literary The Hatchet issue#6 by Pear Tree Press, U S A
THE MAD SECRETARY
Hunched over the computer, I am mystical,
With mental white gloves and a karate belt -
A daylight cursor, but on my bicycle,
A word and energy transformer, a flickering Celt.
Such metaphysics I can make into sensation,
Turned into binary formulae by the boss,
My passion is for punctuation-
But the lingua franca doesn’t give a toss.
I see the point. I accommodate the pause.
I rinse the cups and make the coffee sweet,
I am saving myself for this man of laws,
Of Brehon provenance, who will entreat
Me to be his love, his partner and co-genitor,
Of a life graph, where he can trust the monitor.
(c) Rosemarie Rowley
From IN MEMORY OF HER (2008)
untouchable that bleeds, lonely
in black sky, that haunting moon
walks gingerly on quivering sea:
lovers killed in shame in broad daylight
by gunshots before a crowd; some possessed
maniacs turning the clock back: history
lets go the leaves, the autumn,
trees stand naked, not malevolent
but want to poach upon the wrong side
of faith; my vision starts failing,
crosses the river in ancient lingua franca
joining the broken hearts
i was apprehensive, clouds come and
go, each death becomes a daisy
SATISH VERMA
untouchable that bleeds, lonely
in black sky, that haunting moon
walks gingerly on quivering sea:
lovers killed in shame in broad daylight
by gunshots before a crowd; some possessed
maniacs turning the clock back: history
lets go the leaves, the autumn,
trees stand naked, not malevolent
but want to poach upon the wrong side
of faith; my vision starts failing,
crosses the river in ancient lingua franca
joining the broken hearts
i was apprehensive, clouds come and
go, each death becomes a daisy
SATISH VERMA
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