(I thought I'd try all three forms. I cheated a little with the first one using thing ending in -tion, could be worse , I could have done -ing. It is a Mono-rhyme. The second is a duo rhyme. I think I even kept to some meter as well as rhyme. I messed up the third one. It is supposed to be a Diatelle. I had written out the rhyme scheme (a-b-b-c-b-c-c-a-c-c-b-c-b-b-a)on a blank sheet of paper. I came back later and followed it. Just as I finished it I remembered it was supposed to have an increasing/decreasing sylable count each line. FYI: the last poem is a true story about a kick-off meet for Regina participants in NaNoWriMo in Nov.)
Due to the Double Negative, Satisfaction is Mine
When I was young I just wanted a little action.
I would do crazy things to get some reaction.
Always moving forward to keep some traction.
Growing pains are a necessary contraction.
Life collects it's dues, that's the transaction.
Failure turned to fear becomes inaction.
Pride slides away like decimal and fraction.
The surplus I lost in painful subtraction.
Words flung like arrows have no retraction.
In the mirror my soul looks like a Picasso abstraction.
A poetry group was a welcome distraction.
I took great comfort in human interaction.
I was surprised by sweet ginger attraction.
Finally found the key to unlock satisfaction.
Keen Plight
In season's change, that time between
Fantastical things can be seen.
It all comes to a head one night.
At first you see an eerie sight.
The thing you know now gives a fright.
Strange beasts all want to take a bite.
In fear you see no way to fight.
Until with steed and sword a knight
There leads angels all clad in white.
From pool to pool you walk in light.
With chills and thrills we love the scene.
It's all a part of Halloween.
Nano Rhyme, Yo
Like wrights in a mill, words are tools I wield as I write.
I've written many a poem, but never a book.
A gathering of novice novellers? I'll take a look.
That's who my wife was going to meet.
No crowd, just a handful in the far back nook.
At least the restaurant will have food to eat.
The fuel of art is drink, bread, and meat.
Fellowship is a time honoured creative ceremonial rite.
Beside two shy high school girls we take a seat.
In the face of reticence I will not admit defeat.
Pushing and a lot of questions is what it took;
Although I'm sure they left thinking me offbeat.
The group reeled me and set the hook.
I've swallowed the bait like a trout in a brook.
A month of poems and now a book? My head may not be right.
