A List Of Poems I Like – Writing 101 Day 2

Okay, so day two for the Writing 101 was ‘Make  a List’.  Well, let’s not waste time just writing a list, so here is a list poem, of sorts. Or my reasons for writing them.


Sonnet: why did I ever think I could write you?
Ode: Oh ode, must you be sad? No, but Keats did you best.
Haiku: So brief, you are full of life. Portable and almost cute.
Ballad: I can sing you when an artist makes you great.
Prose: Elegant, me, open and true. You are the best
Sonnet: Beautiful, you are so hard to achieve.
Ode: I could write you to everything and nothing.
Haiku: Your forms are small, execution is great.
Ballad: I can never write you properly, but you are epic.
Prose: My true self is in your form, but I forget you exist.
Poetry: You are who I am, but you are so hard to write sometimes…


I kind of like that.


Sonnets We Are Not – Or, My Attempt At Writing Them

I am dabbling in the PAD (Poem A Day) Chapbook Challenge for the Month of November. You can find the information over at Writer’s Digest, and you can see CB Wentworth tackle the month with Haiku’s.  I thought it sounded like something fun and a good challenge for me to work on sonnets.  Unfortunately I seem to be having issues with iambic pentameter. I can get the pentameter no problem, but iambic… whew. Turns out, I haven’t a clue how to write that way. I have not been writing sonnets, but mixing trochee, spondee, dactyl, anapaest, and iambic all together. Sigh. It does not make a sonnet. So there I am on Youtube attempting to make sense of unstressed and stressed words. For those who don’t know, iambic means one unstressed and one stressed.  I’m sort of getting it. Kind of. (not really) Argh!

However, while I’m not succeeding fully, I have semi sonnets. Lacking true Iambic Pentameter but almost there. Here are two that I wrote so far.  The first one deals with the ‘day after’, in whatever form you want. I kind of want to go back and do a day after Halloween, or Christmas, or some event. The other one is prompted with Once Upon A ______ (blank). Due to my love of the show, I went with Once Upon A Time (ABC)  Sue me. I’m a girl.

So take a look. I hope you enjoy. I’m really working on this metre thing.  I hope to have it down by the end of the month

The Morning After

It is the day after, look at the mess
I have made things more cluttered than need be
In a moment of lust losing that dress
To hopes and dreams and things that can’t be

It was a wicked night full of things too full
A night of passions running wild and high
We threw caution to the wind with a pull
The sheets landed on the floor a kiss and sigh

Now I stare down at you in sweet repose
A frisson of delight tangles me more
I want to stay here in your arms enclose
Not leaving the delight we had before

But it’s the morning after of reckless
And you won’t stay here to pick up the mess.

Once Upon a Time Ago

Once upon a time it was long ago
When a lady came to a town in Maine
The clock tower stood silent ever slow
And the sheriff was a huntsman arcane

A mayor with an evil side of darkness
A woman lost in teaching in the school
A man who lost his mind in suddenness
A town so full of sad and grim and blue

She is the savior for whom we foretold
In the books they knew her name and story
Now we hold her to break the curse twofold
And bring us into hope with the glory

But darkness lurks in every page turned
This story is best in the lesson learned

The Tastes of Summer – Blogging U – Poetry 201

Okay, so the assignment for day 8 of Writing 201: Poetry was Day 8: Flavor, Elegy, Enumeratio.

My flavor went more with the tastes of summer, but as for elegy…. while there is a slightly somber feeling, it’s not quite my idea of an elegy. And I have no idea if I hit enough enumeratio. I need to work on both. I would never even try to do elegiac couplets. That’s insane. But I hope you enjoy. I’m already missing wearing shorts and being tanned. The summer went to fast.


And now the summer has faded away
In flavors of spice and leaves
From burning sun to frosty nights
and the naked bare leafless empty trees.
The days are warm, filled with a waiting sigh
dust and leaves and acorns fall
shades of orange, and gold and red
and green moss growing on a wall
But summer burning the baked earth smell
has faded to dampened spice
and the sun up high in an azure sky
is now not so warm and nice
Winter is coming the birds all chatter
as I’m craving summer sun
I’m wishing I could step back two months
when summer wasn’t nearly done.



It Was The Veil – Blogging U – Poetry 201

So Monday’s assignment was Day 6: Faces, Found Poetry, Chiasmus.  I totally failed on the Chiasmus, but I knew I would because I decided that trying to do that within my book would have been a lot of work, and would have involved cutting pages. Instead I went with Blackout poetry. Which is pretty much found poetry.  The pages below might be a bit hard to read so I will include a typed up version under the picture. Enjoy
It Was The Veil

it was the veil
another peculiar whispered veil,
with that narrow strip
I am her
her heart
my gaze has a home
flushed and a saucy nose of trepidation
cool, somber
the veil of grief gone.
a spirit in the lavender satin
the feelings still closed
love, honor, grief. Life, death
The words deep in her heart.


I’m a little behind again with the poetry, but well, this one took me a while to find, then mark out. Blackout poetry isn’t always as simple as you think. The last page was one of my favorite ones, but well, the whole thing turned out well. Not sure face fits, but well, metaphor and all that.  I look forward to trying the elegies and ballads now that I’m done marking up my book and making my father very nervous…..


Map Me Out – Blogging U – Poetry 201

So, Friday’s assignment for Writing 201 – Poetry, was Day 5: Map, Ode, Metaphor. Map of a woman’s heart by D.W. Kellog 1833-1842

I did a couple of odes last spring with the Writing 101, and I think I liked them…. Okay, just checked, yep, I loved them. See Odes to Things in Drawers – Wooden Spoons & Handkerchiefs

But this time around I think I sort of got lost in what is an ode. I need to revisit it and work on more odes to get the feel.  However, I liked the them of Map and Metaphor, so while I’m not sure this is an ode, I’m hoping it’s close.

Map Me Out

Unfold me out on a table-top
Map me who I am inside and out
I’m made up of rivers of hair
Valleys, mountains and rising peaks
Run down the roads in my palms throughout.

Traverse and travel the backroads of me
I’m a citadel of silence behind walls
A lone city in a country all mine
Fields bare my stamp of ownership
Mountain winds tug me with wild calls.

Folded up I’m a mystery of only a name
Spread out, you see all my hidden flaws
Take out your marker and find points of interest
I’m there but I’m not until you arrive
I’m an adventure of sideshow draws.

I’m a map of myself and not like any other
An priceless country of all that I am
There’s no one quite like me around
My mind is a cave all to myself
And read me all you want, this is who I am.


So… again, personal. I seem to only be able to write this way. Not a complaint, just an observation. I’d love people’s opinion on if this is an ode or not. I seriously need practice for sure.  But I hope you enjoy.


This Skin – Blogging U Poetry 201

I really liked this assignment because I love prose. I haven’t worked with it much since the spring, but I think it’s fun to write because while there are rules, sort of, there aren’t rules at the same time. I mean, prose needs somewhat of a rhythm to keep it going otherwise it’s just fiction. There has to be a bit of a lyrical quality in my opinion.

The assignment of Day 3: Skin, Prose Poem, Internal Rhyme  ended up being fitting with my earlier post of She’s A Woman In Gold.  I like internal rhyme and I think I might have gotten carried away with it, but words just started hitting together so there is a lot.

Probably because gold was part of the theme I went with along with looks and, well it’s kind of a metaphor if you read both posts. I’m not exactly sure what I’m saying.  Also, as I wrote this, I had Shawn Mendes’ song “Stitches” repeating over and over in my head. I have to add that Ben Huberman’s consistent use of musical inspiration this time around is thrilling me. I have been meaning to write a post for ages about the fact that people say they don’t like poetry, but music is poetry. Pure and simple. So, Ben, thank you! I love music; I love poetry… they go hand in hand. As I wrote this, I felt like I could rap it, which I can’t rap even though I love some of it. But this has kind of that slam poetry feeling. Oh, now that would be fun to do. To go up on stage and slam this one down.

So, without further ado…….

This Skin
by Katie Lyn (see that rhyme?)

Soft skin, the skin that I’m in, satin touch, rarely rough, I’m smooth as can be and all totally me. I’m a little bit more, all kissed by the sun, golden with glitter all bronzed and just fine, a bronzing that shines, smoothing down long thin lines. I’m summer soft sexy, a true golden girl. California’s child, a little bit wild, and really quite mild. My skin is like me, a shield and so thin, I’m easily pricked by words that cut in. A pin is like words, it can just dig right in, drawing forth blood and tears flowing out like a flood. My skin is so tough, from the hot summer sun, but prick and see I’m not all of me. I’m me and I’m not, my skin hides my flaws, my inner true self, tucked up on a shelf. I write who I am, and it’s far from just planned, but look at my words and see who is me. The skin that I’m in is just totally me, I’m girly and sweet, and that’s just who I am.

Again, gosh that was fun.

Blogging U – A Woman’s Gift Acrostic – Poetry

Keeping with the theme of women…. And acrostic poem

With a flick of a wrist, the paper is ripped off

Open up the silver box made of paper

Murmur a surprise at what’s inside

Every bit of delight at the stone the size of a hazelnut

Now that’s what a woman does with a ring that big.

Linger on the sparkle of candy

Ignore the indulgent smile of your man

Keep holding the ring in the light to shine

Enjoy the weight on your finger, so heavy

Grin like a silly idiot

Immensely happy thoughts dangle in your brain

Finger  the stone so bright and green

Trinkets of glitter are so pleasing to have

See? women like gifts.


Wasn’t sure where I was going other than when I thought of gifts and women, for some reason I went to Christmas and a ring under the tree.  Glittery things.  I’m not sure I carried on with the simile very well, but the acrostic went okay. I’m not a huge fan of an acrostic unless it’s in rhyme.  But this fits more with how I thought it could be. I feel like it’s an action poem. Like it’s happening right now.  So, kind of cool.


Blogging U 201 – Poetry Haiku Screens

I stupidly decided last minute to join the Daily Post’s Blogging U 201 Poetry course at the last minute this weekend.  Why? Partly because I loved the course in March or February when I did the last one, and I had plans to do it before Write 31 Days challenge came around. I had actually hoped that it would be a little later in the year, but well. Oh well.

Today’s assignment is Haiku, Screen, and Alliteration.   I could not stand doing a regular haiku so I went with an American Sentence. It’s still technically a haiku if you shift things.  And the Japanese never wrote their haikus with the three lines. It was always one line.  So There. :)

The theme ‘screen’ was meant more for a computer screen, but I am dealing with women this month so I kind of want to keep as much of the theme as possible. So as we as women always wear a screen, a veil across our lives, this fits.   I got carried away and wrote a bunch of American sentences…. So while it’s technically a bunch of individual poems, it could also be read as one.

As for alliteration, well the poetry explains itself.

She wears a screen of screams, stunning in its silence of serenity

Shield the veil of modesty and call forth delicate beauty and grace.

A sheer veil across my visage hides emotions and thoughts from your face.

My mind, my body, my heart, hidden from the world of criticism.

She dips her head demurely and a delicate thought hides from you.

Conceal my core, my concrete heart from the coldness in this common world.

A screen, shade, shutter, of shame skates across her hidden face of silence.

Clearly there is a theme of shame. Not exactly sure why I ended up that way, but well, sometimes a screen makes me think of shame.  For some reason I can never go with modesty. Go figure.


My Gal Poets – Day No. 5

Emily Dickinson Poems Book Cover

Emily Dickinson Poems Book Cover (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Emily Dickinson is my girl. My poet. My inspiration. She says all those wonderful things I’m thinking of in only a few lines. She is probably the first poet I fell in love with. I’m not evne sure when she first came on the scene with me, but her words have stuck over the years. “Wild nights, wild nights…..”

Years ago, my then boyfriend gave me a selection of her poems, in this delicate white and rose colored book. Satin ribbon, and his writing inside of my name. To this day, it is one of my cherished possessions. While he and I parted ways, I loved the gift and when I’m in a romantic, sad, or poetic mood, her’s is the first book I pull out. I recently found a paperback of her entire collection of works. Whoa! I did not know she had written that much. I don’t have the time to read her often, but when I do, I want to start reading it to anyone who will listen. Sadly, very people do. ( I actually feel this way about a lot of poetry, and my family just doesn’t quite get my fascination.)


Edna St. Vincent Millay’s The End of Summer

I love male poets. Sir Walter Scott (dreamy), Billy Collins (stunning), Shelley (ethereal), John Keats (moving), Tennyson (powerful)…. I could go on as there are many others.  However, there is something about what women poets write that always gets to me. (excluding Billy Collins who’s poetry hits me like a cannon blast and I have yet to recover from some of his) Edna St. Vincent Millay is a new old poet who is rather amazing when you start reading her work. I’m seriously jealous of her sonnets partly because I cannot write a decent sonnet.   And her poem “The End of Summer” is so perfect for this time of year.

Emily Bronte is another beautiful poet. And she’s another Emily. I love my Emilys. (Emily Dickinson, Emilie Loring, Emily Bronte) Unlike the other Bronte sisters, Emily wrote a fair amount of poetry that is unique only to her. Elegant and classic, I pull out her little blue book of poetry I have when I want to feel intellectual. I rarely do, reading her. Half the time I’m not sure what exactly she is talking about, but she is lovely.

Christina Rossetti

Christina Rossetti (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Christina Rossetti is another classic poet.  I have one of her little ditties on my wall from an old Country Living magazine where they were talking about blue and white. “White sheep, white sheep, On a blue hill, When the wind stops, You all stand still.”  So cute in it’s own way. It would be one I would teach a child to say.  Then she has her marvelous poem “In the Bleak Midwinter” which has been turned into an ethereal song by Sarah McLachlan. I absolutely adore that song. It’s message is so perfect for Christmas and about our Lord.  If you haven’t heard it, you must. Just click below.

And lastly, Susan Wooldridge. Someone whom I’ve written about, met, and read extensively. Being that she only has three books, it’s fairly easy to do. But she has a poetry that is unique; modern in feeling. I feel like a friend is telling me things.  Her chapbook “Bathing with Ants” is so lovely and reminds me of getting a call from a friend who wanted to let you know what they thought. I female version of Billy Collins.  I can’t explain it, but you should check out her poetry and books on writing poetry.

Ah yes, woman poets and their words. Magical, and personal. I feel like a part of me is escaping when I read something of theirs. Like they are telling me what I already know, but didn’t know how to say it. And as I read more poetry, I want to collect more women poets.  I feel like they are speaking my life.

So, dearies, do you have any women poets you love?  Tell me. I’m always collecting new poets.


Late August Mornings and Looking Ahead

Rugburn, taking a selfie.... Okay, I held up the camera, but it looks like he is.

Rugburn, taking a selfie…. Okay, I held up the camera, but it looks like he is.

I’m up early this morning, and while 8am isn’t the crack of dawn, when you go to bed after two, 8 is early. My puppy, a 12 year old puppy mind you, has an unusual growth under his eye, the same eye that I had a cyst removed from back in June.  So it required calling the vet first thing this late August morning.  (and while I have to wait till Wednesday for a visit, I’m stressing. I mean, I don’t know what I would do without him)

It’s one of those mornings where it smells like almost fall.  Not quite there, but almost.  I feel like fall might come on a bit sooner this year because everything else seems to be coming on so fast.  Yet looking back, it I remember everything falling into place at its normal time. In July we had our massive heat spell, then out of nowhere, it broke with two weeks of rainy sort of coastal weather. Suddenly, Boom! There was that first hint of fall in the air.  I always hate when that happens because I actually like the summer heat and smells.  Okay, I can’t really handle anything above 95 and feel really good, but that’s beside the point.  I like summer. It’s usually the season I’m feeling the best.

You know it's late summer when the wild clematis is sending out it seeds.

You know it’s late summer when the wild clematis is sending out it seeds.

So here we are at a week from September.  Today is the first day of school… No really I just pulled up the School District and there it was. No one in my family could remember.  So it is like officially fall, in that pre sort of way that it happens a month before it reads on the calendar.  Truthfully though, after reading Liza Dalby‘s East Wind Melts the Ice, where she says how the seasons actually start before the date on the calendar, I never look at the dates on the calendar as accurate. I think about fall almost a month before it happens, while mentally grabbing a hold of ‘summer’ that is and trying to dig my heels in.  I want to wear shorts and summer camisoles as long as I can. I want to feel warm when I walk outside.  And gosh darn it! I want to keep my tan which is so pale since I have this super pale FinishGermanWelshIrishWhatnot skin. My tan is like what a normal person gets in one week of the summer.

I’m hoping though with the cooler weather (ha! right. considering it was 90+ degrees yesterday) that I might be able to settle down and write more. I have pretty much given up doing much major writing over the summer because it was hot, I was tired, there was so much to do, I was reading…….. excuses. Except for the fact that I just got a letter from Susan Wooldridge who said she wasn’t writing a lot either.  I need cooler weather to write. Granted, I have dabbled in some poetry. I have a couple marvelous ones that I’m happy with and some that I have half finished and various starts. Eventually I hope to have them finished.

I never know what to do with my poetry. Do I post it here? Do I try to publish it? I have this Coral flushed series I’m doing that sort of relate to Boris… Okay, fine, they are technically just for Boris, but in my opinion they are good. So what do I do with them?  I really like dabbling in poetry because it’s something ‘small’ but I can take it anywhere with me.  I have my little book and pencil, because I seem to like to write poetry in pencil unless I’m out and all I have is a pen and several pieces of scratch paper or the back of my library book receipts.(those are actually fun to write on)

Fiction is sometimes so BIG in feeling that I feel like I have to really sit down to write it. But poetry is really something you can take with you, even down to having a small Moleskin or Field Notes and pencil (or pen) in your back pocket You don’t have to take hardly anything with you. It kind of makes it this perfect thing to write, because even if you don’t really do poetry, everyone has a poem in them just from how they might describe a flower they just saw.

And now I’m starting to ramble off on a tangent that is far from what I was thinking when I sat down on the couch on the porch waiting for the coffee to finish perking and listening to the Stellars Jays…… Oh wow does that sound so good to me.

What I wanted to say was that I am going to be doing a 31 Days in October again.  This year the theme will be ladies, femininity and all things girly. Or relating to me since I’m a girl. I have to keep a few options open just in case I can’t figure out a post or two.  I need to start working on posts and plotting out some ideas a bit more, along with deciding what I want a button for the  challenge to look like and a place for all these posts to go. I didn’t like that I have a header tab that is for last years listing. Maybe I can add under that or something. I clearly did not thing about it at the time.

So, new stuff for October is coming…. along with three new book reviews this month. I received a book last Monday and by Wednesday, I was done.  Okay it was lightish reading, but still I flew through it.

And now I am at 900+ words. Wow, I really just let it all fly out. I should stop.

Until I write again at some random point. Happy Monday, Dearies. (September means OUAT is coming soon! Yes!)