Poetry Kitchen: Sonnet Side Up poems and links
I've finished 6 out of 13 poems from my last set of Poetry Kitchen prompts!
Prompted by ysabetwordsmith:
Draw boy! Aloft, to work the heddles!
'Tis time to make a brilliant brocade.
With you above, I'll tromp the treadles,
And throw by throw, the device is laid.
A line of lilies and a row of roses
Will complement the virtuous pear;
The gleam of gold slyly discloses
Every detail embroidered there.
The cloth will caress much softer skin;
Soft hands will brush the raised design
When noblemen waltz, their brides to win
With plumage embossed with art divine.
"Clothes make the man", and oh, such joy;
That delicate craft was the work of a boy!
Prompted by aldersprig
The Mask
It protects me, for I am weak
Like a bird within its shell
Freshly pipped, and now I peek
But stay inside where all is well.
I am brash when I speak
But the speaker is a lie;
A role to hide a freak,
But the truth is in my eye.
Do you know that I am meek?
The mask I wear is bold;
Its confidence I seek
But its skin is hard and cold.
The persona is a charmer,
But can I escape my armor?
Prompted by haikujaguar
Service
The book says service is perishable, for
Once it is given, it is gone.
That moment, that act exists no more.
It disappears like the stars at dawn.
And yet, I can't quite believe
That a deed once done is ended.
The book insists that my heart deceives
When it marks what those acts have mended.
The service itself is small and discrete
From all that may come after.
The pebble isn't the rippling sheet;
The sly games aren't the laughter.
But my heart insists that it does not perish,
So long as the results are there to cherish.
Prompted by laffingkat
Tents and fire pits all around,
Sore muscles resting on dampened stumps,
We eat burnt food as smiles abound,
Sorting the day's blessings and thumps.
The aroma of yeast and wheat surround
Mother and daughter as dishes lurk.
Warm, fresh bread with butter crowned
Rewards them for their diligent work.
Two hearts are together bound,
And the women of the church provide;
But the greatest feast of all is found
On the altar where the Elder presides.
In the field or devoted to God above,
Every meal is incomplete without love.
Prompted by xjenavivex
Pizza
Queen Margherita loved her bread
Though the talk was hardly pleasant.
"It isn't right," the nobles said,
"For a queen to dine like a peasant."
"If only a pizza was something grand,
Then naturally we wouldn't object."
So she called upon the cooks of the land
To provide the dish some respect.
The Italian flag inspired the best
With colors red, green, and white.
The Pizza Margherita put whispers to rest
Much to the queen's delight.
Thus pizza rose from its humble start;
A chef took bread and made it art.
Prompted by nekomata
Fading Lights
To ancient Greeks, summer came
When hoofprints littered the rocky hills.
Each goat-man and his maddened dame
Danced upon the daffodills.
When I was a child, summer came
When I chased fireflies far and wee.
An evening herald with florescent flame
Caught one day, the next, set free.
The civilized mind has no space
For nymphs and satyrs, and so they faded.
The civilized lawn has no place
For little bugs that must be shaded.
I've seen a firefly, but never a faun;
In a hundred years, will the flames be gone?
You can find the original prompt post here.
Incentive goodie: Me singing "The Chocolate Chip Country" here
Incentive goodie two: Read "The Young Lord's Servants"
Prompted by ysabetwordsmith:
Draw boy! Aloft, to work the heddles!
'Tis time to make a brilliant brocade.
With you above, I'll tromp the treadles,
And throw by throw, the device is laid.
A line of lilies and a row of roses
Will complement the virtuous pear;
The gleam of gold slyly discloses
Every detail embroidered there.
The cloth will caress much softer skin;
Soft hands will brush the raised design
When noblemen waltz, their brides to win
With plumage embossed with art divine.
"Clothes make the man", and oh, such joy;
That delicate craft was the work of a boy!
Prompted by aldersprig
The Mask
It protects me, for I am weak
Like a bird within its shell
Freshly pipped, and now I peek
But stay inside where all is well.
I am brash when I speak
But the speaker is a lie;
A role to hide a freak,
But the truth is in my eye.
Do you know that I am meek?
The mask I wear is bold;
Its confidence I seek
But its skin is hard and cold.
The persona is a charmer,
But can I escape my armor?
Prompted by haikujaguar
Service
The book says service is perishable, for
Once it is given, it is gone.
That moment, that act exists no more.
It disappears like the stars at dawn.
And yet, I can't quite believe
That a deed once done is ended.
The book insists that my heart deceives
When it marks what those acts have mended.
The service itself is small and discrete
From all that may come after.
The pebble isn't the rippling sheet;
The sly games aren't the laughter.
But my heart insists that it does not perish,
So long as the results are there to cherish.
Prompted by laffingkat
Tents and fire pits all around,
Sore muscles resting on dampened stumps,
We eat burnt food as smiles abound,
Sorting the day's blessings and thumps.
The aroma of yeast and wheat surround
Mother and daughter as dishes lurk.
Warm, fresh bread with butter crowned
Rewards them for their diligent work.
Two hearts are together bound,
And the women of the church provide;
But the greatest feast of all is found
On the altar where the Elder presides.
In the field or devoted to God above,
Every meal is incomplete without love.
Prompted by xjenavivex
Pizza
Queen Margherita loved her bread
Though the talk was hardly pleasant.
"It isn't right," the nobles said,
"For a queen to dine like a peasant."
"If only a pizza was something grand,
Then naturally we wouldn't object."
So she called upon the cooks of the land
To provide the dish some respect.
The Italian flag inspired the best
With colors red, green, and white.
The Pizza Margherita put whispers to rest
Much to the queen's delight.
Thus pizza rose from its humble start;
A chef took bread and made it art.
Prompted by nekomata
Fading Lights
To ancient Greeks, summer came
When hoofprints littered the rocky hills.
Each goat-man and his maddened dame
Danced upon the daffodills.
When I was a child, summer came
When I chased fireflies far and wee.
An evening herald with florescent flame
Caught one day, the next, set free.
The civilized mind has no space
For nymphs and satyrs, and so they faded.
The civilized lawn has no place
For little bugs that must be shaded.
I've seen a firefly, but never a faun;
In a hundred years, will the flames be gone?
You can find the original prompt post here.
Incentive goodie: Me singing "The Chocolate Chip Country" here
Incentive goodie two: Read "The Young Lord's Servants"