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Recipe for Closure

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Dig deep

You may have to sift through

The negative ions

Particles of the unpropitious

 

Become stirred

Let …yourself… rise

You deserve the outcome

Knead I say more?

 

Today I am your host at dVerse Poets Pub .I am asking you to create your own “recipe poem”, but not of the culinary kind. Instead, write about something more abstract such as “a recipe for love”. You may want to include the language of a cookbook, but that is up to you.  Join us! Doors open at 3 p.m EST.

Collaboration for Peace – 43

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parasail
Free Fall

we’re free falling
flying without wings
hands clasped
tugging
at the cord that binds
us to the past
leaving behind the strife
the worries
the discord
and drifting into the
open arms of peace

 

© Candace Kubinec

Photo: Mish

Candy and I are taking a short break. We’ll be back with more photos and poetry in January. Our goal is to reach 52 posts – a whole year of collaboration!

How Dare I Even Try to Cover Shakespeare

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All the world’s a page
And all the men and women merely poets
They have their exits and their entrances,
And in time they write of every stage of this life
The penning of seven ages. At first, the infant,
Rapping and clapping  in mother’s arms
Then the whining schoolboy, with his backpack
And mourning face, snailing his way
To school. And then the lover,
Sighing between couplets, with a woeful ballad
Music to his mistress’ ear. Then a soldier,
Fighting life’s battles on paper and screens
Jealous in honor, spoken word slamming
Seeking the published prize
At the risk of denial. And then the justice,
Fattened and fueled with philosophy,
With eyes widened by profound thoughts
Full of wisdom of past and present
And so he coins his phrase. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and withered wordsmith,
With spectacles on nose and irony alongside;
His youthful imagery, well saved, a world too wide
For his shortened verse, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish times, whines
And whistles of his own elegy. Last stanza of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Blank verse, refrain and mere oblivion,
Sans rhythm, sans rhyme, sans breath, sans everything.

 

ALL THE WORLD’S A STAGE

By William Shakespeare

(from As You Like It, spoken by Jacques)

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

poetryfoundation.org

Photo taken in Stratford, Ontario, home of the Stratford Festival and Shakespearean plays.

 

A wonderful challenge by Bryan Ens for dVerse Poetics, where he asked us to “cover” a poem by a poet whom you admire. I missed the prompt so I’m linking this up to “Open Link Night”.

Feel free to join in with one poem of your choice!

Ties

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He tells me he’s going to Thailand. Alone. For six weeks. Six weeks and six days. He is taking a backpack. I think he is joking but then…there’s the grin, that familiar smirk n’ dimple disposition that says he is not. I smile, wide-eyed while panic pokes at every ounce of my maternal self. “What?” “Why?” “When?” The fact that he will miss Christmas becomes trivial, getting lost in swirls of anxiety. I look in his eyes for answers to questions I haven’t thought of yet. He speaks of hostels in Bangkok and a train to Chiang Mai where you can ride an elephant. My heart races like a tuk-tuk but I remain focused on him, his dreams, his ambitions, his life. This is his life.

 

sea eagle sets sail

as easterly winds beckon

avoiding monsoons

 

Toni (kazensukura) leads our Haibun Monday at dVerse this week. The topic is your choice. Just remember to follow the etiquette of the form. “(1) The haibun must be non-fiction (2) The occurance must have actually happened to you (3) You are to write one to two tight paragraphs and (4) End it with a season based haiku.”

Image: pixabay.com

 

 

Collaboration for Peace – 42

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Barriers

we build walls trying
to define our space
outline the boundaries of

what belongs to us
construct tangled barriers to
keep others at a distance

so no one will know us too well
we assume a prickly air
attempting to protect our hearts

alone inside our armor of safety
we long for the touch of another
the understanding of a neighbor

the love of a friend
yet we are afraid to reach out
take a risk

seek peace

 

© Candace Kubinec

Seasonal Affair

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My little maple

Of glistening gold

Flaunting, fluttering as

Sol sister laughs

She knows wind is only

Teasing, breezing by for

One last kiss of autumn

The final dance before

The chill and I will

Cherish your leaves

As fall still breathes

Through winter

 

It’s Quadrille time again and we’d love for you to join us over at dVerse Poets Pub. As your host, I am asking you to write a poem of 44 words (not including the title) and your quadrille must contain the word…

b…r…e…a…t…h…e

or breath, breathtaking, breathable…any variation of the word

Doors open at 3 p.m. EST

Collaboration for Peace – 41

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falls

 

Let Peace Flow

When you see sorrow
of another
Let joy flow from
Your soul
To cover the dark in light

When you hear hatred
toward a neighbor
Let love flow from
Your heart
To cover the hard in softness

When you feel the anguish
of humanity
Let peace flow from
Your mind
To cover the shattered in healing

© Candace Kubinec