[A very sparing young poet named Nick]

A very sparing young poet named Nick,
Having mastered the compact limerick,
Yearned for verse
Even more terse,
So he strove to compose a slimerick.

Nick was not only sparing, but picky,
Which made the slimerick extra tricky.
Nothing he tried
Satisfied—
They were all, in a word, slimericky.


I’m also posting my first response to Monty Vern’s Silver Lining June collaboration. In a silver lining poem (Monty’s invention), the last words of each line in the poem are the key words, in order, of another line of poetry, with appropriate credit given to the original poet. The borrowing poet can forget those pesky little words like a, the, and of and can write about an entirely different subject. Thank you, Monty, for the opportunity to participate! Peace to our s!

[“A molten gold flows away from the sun” from “Evening Sea Wind” by Carl Sandburg]

Self-Sabotage

~after Carl Sandburg

Once the heart becomes molten,
Carefully cup the blistering gold
In your hands and gloat as it flows
Through your fingers. Then put the blowtorch away.
Tomorrow, stare at the sun.

“Brocade”

Hold out your hands to feel the luxury of the sunbeams.

Helen Keller

Isn’t that a lovely thought? Ever since I wrote Helen Keller’s observation in my notebook of quotes, I’ve wanted to use it in a poem. Despite being intangible, sunbeams have a way of draping themselves across your body as cloth does. The contrast between brocade’s heaviness and the lightness of sunbeams works, for me, because of the connecting “thread” of luxuriousness (couldn’t resist that :) ).

Brocade

Sometimes you have to make your own sunshine.
You have to roll out the gold gossamer-thin
To feel the luxury of sunbeams on bare skin.

© Stephanie Malley

Peace to your !