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 |  Entries to Express It In Eight from September 2020 to the present . |
| The number of poems enforces the use of blog format with ten poems per page. |
| Flotsam Like driftwood caught in the tide, a life of riding the wind of fate leads to some strange places indeed, those eddies swirling in loops unexpected, perhaps undesired, backwaters bypassed by the stream, yet the journey, stranded at last, is the making of us. Line count: 8 Free verse For Express It In Eight, 08,23.21 Prompt: Riding the wind of fate. |
| Summer in New England Oh yes, the summer sun in furnace counterpoint With clouddark storm lashing the humid earth, Moves on to hold the world in steaming servitude, Spreads the sticky sweat, cloying, in armpit and crotch, Mocks the nightly rumpled sheets of our unrest, Denies the daily dream of heat in darkness dissipated Bows only to the fiery hues of autumn, promising The balm of winter’s snows upon our shrivelled selves. Liner count: 8 Free verse For Express It In Eight, 08.22.21, Shadows & Light Poetry Contest, 08.31.21 Prompt: Summer and sun! |
| Lullaby Lovely Lucy Lillilamptree, laughing like limpets leaving Lombardy, lingered lightly, loosely, languid, long, loitered lately, loving Leonard Lollybong. Lo! Loyalty lasts least, like lamplight low on ‘lectricity, left little lignite. Leonard’s lies, lovely Lucy, lead lastly to lachrymose lives, less leniency. Line count: 8 Rhymed aabb For Express It In Eight, 08.21.21 Prompt: THE LETTER 'L'! |
| Warning: This is experimental. Tangled Tangled with the words frolicking Overhead the clouds go tumbling On the green the lambs are rollicking Lying in the sun, I’m mumbling. The clouds with the lambs go tumbling Green the words are mumbling I’m lying overhead and rollicking The sun-tangled clouds are frolicking Line count: 8 Rhymed abab bbaa For Express It In Eight, 08.20.21 Prompt: Tangled. |
| Dreams Farewell to all that, and not goodbye, as though I disavowed connection with all those daydreams of a misspent youth. I own them still as memories of what might have been, in a world freed from tomorrow. Line count: 8 Free verse For Express It In Eight, 08.19.21 Prompt: Farewell. |
| Trials of the Day The kettle may be on the boil But wait a minute, the boil’s on me My mind might be in complete turmoil Yet it still thinks better than my knee My nose is dripping like a tap My toe is twisted, a corkscrew I’ve woken so I can have a nap This poem is just a load of crap definitely through. Line count: 8 Rhymed abab cdcd, or abab cdcc, if you prefer For Express It In Eight, 08.18.21 Prompt: Write a BAD, 8-line poem! |
 Toulouse-Lautrec Henri de, you old rapscallion, deformed and bent, and yet unbroken, you delved for companionship in the decadence of a Paris abandoned to the tawdry delights of hedonism, found friendship, beauty, comfort for your genius to render bright. Your voice rips through our prejudice. Line count: 8 Free verse For Express It In Eight, 08.17.21 Prompt: Toulouse-Lautrec painting. |
| Fusion The marriage of opposites. like a pewter plate stood upright on a wooden window sill. the weight of five hundred years pressing it into the grain until, caught fast in fusion, wood and pewter as one, it stands immovable today. Line count: 8 Free verse For Express It In Eight, 08.16.21 Prompt: Fusion. Note: In a 16th Century house in England, in a window, there is a pewter plate that leans against the glass, its rim resting on the wooden sill. Time has forced its weight deep into the grain of the wood so that it is now locked within the sill. Plate and sill can no longer be separated. It is the most unlikely example of fusion that I have ever seen. |
| Clearer Than Water There is something magical in the ocean, close up, and the bottom white sand, the water as clear as crystal held to the light, lucid, limpid, laced with the shadows of gentle waves that lap at one’s knees, and the little fish, not swimming but flying, over a submerged world so sharp, that each grain stands out to be counted. Line count: 8 Free verse For Express It In Eight, 08.14.21 Prompt: Lucid. |
| Think Ahead To walk under a ladder is bad luck they say, but what is even badder is to bump it on the way. Old Charlie up there painting might distracted be, forget all of his training, and fall down on top of thee And Charlie’s not a lightweight, he’s broken many a scale; I do not fancy your fate under that most ponderous male. Better to own a black cat. Line count: 8 + 5 Rhymed abab For Express It In Eight, 08.13.21 Prompt: 8 + 5 lines on UNDER A LADDER. |
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