Don't say too much.
Sparsity is preferable,
allowing space
for other things
to enter or at least
feel at ease
to approach and give
a sense of presence.
Take the wide,
flat plains out past Kimba.
If you speak,
the land will remain silent
and you will be alone.
But if you enter into the quiet
dreaming of the place,
hold it within
and become perfectly still,
after a while
the land will begin
to tell you its story.
You will learn to weep
and each tear shed
will lighten
and make room.
Only then
can you carry
with you a space
large enough to fit
what you have sought
and longed for
all your life.
Categories:
sparsity, longing,
Form: Free verse
DUAL INTEREST
tablescopic
ephemeral
with
a
sparsity of detail
composed
collecting love
shaped
with
complexity
in a
flattened
perspective
&
a
reluctance to talk
but
impressively
determined&
original
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
Categories:
sparsity, poetry,
Form: Other
A dark nightmare-
dementia is a living Hell
that grinds the mind away while one's aware-
it's crumbling very well.
Lewy Body Dementia- grim adversity;
unlike Alzheimer's- which dulls one's reality,
this victim feels mind's sparsity-
the pain of it fragmenting- utterly aware.
New call defines;
was labeled first as Parkinson's.
Though Lewy may show physical declines-
worse are brain afflictions;
hallucinations, memory loss, resonate-
while victims know inside- these changes dominate;
no cure- just death will terminate.
With Hell on earth- a shattered family resigns.
June 17, 2019
Form Used: 'Crumbling Rhyme'
invented by Constance La France
Categories:
sparsity, dark, lost, memory, sad,
Form: Rhyme
The sparsity of congregants
reminds me of the absence
of jestful boys schooled
in the faux arts
of throwing hymnbooks
across the nave.
The smelters ran two shifts,
fed us beattitudes
of paid mortgages
and Sunday roast beef
as the school teemed every year
with five-year-olds.
Sidewalks buckle
atop the roots of oak canopies,
as the breath of traffic
grows sparer;
the psalms of our minister grow fainter.
In the tart air of early Spring
those sly boys
would cup a book in a palm
and pretend to launch it,
to the mortification of their mothers.
Categories:
sparsity, childhood, imagery, nostalgia,
Form: Free verse