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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. |
 Put It There Put it there, If it weighs a ton Put It There, Paul McCartney Give me your hand, I'd like to shake it, I want to show you I'm your friend. I don’t care if it weighs a ton, as long as you and I are here, put it there. If I can make it clear, It's all that matters in the end. Line count: 8 Free verse For Express It In Eight, 09.29.23 Prompt: As per illustration. Note: I forget what they call it but there is a form in which the lines are taken from another poem or, as in this case, a song. |
| Wild Goose Chase There they go, honking their way through the upper atmosphere, bound for warmer climes and bountiful country, easy living, for northern snowbirds from glacial lakes and bogs. If I had wings… Line count: 8 Free verse For Express It In Eight, 09.28.23 Prompt: Wild goose chase. |
| Vaulting Ambition As here on earth the nations turn to bickering between themselves, the notions vain and petty, with all debate reduced to mockery and snickering, and reason disregarded as just so much confetti, good men reviled and condemned with innuendo, millions repeating lies to lead them all in thrall to faithless gods while truth’s in diminuendo, the vault of heaven silent as we design our fall. Line count: 8 Rhymed abab For Express It In Eight, 09.25.23 Prompt: Vault. |
 }Water The boy sips at water from the tap the kitchen dark red electric bill crumpled in a corner the cupboards bare father gone when hope was too mother down at the bingo for boy and baby sister life drips on. Line count: 8 Free verse For Express It In Eight, 09.24.23 Prompt: As per illustration. |
| Gimme You say it will kill me, it’s not that I care - at least it will fill me and I’ve got you there. The fact is I need it, you could say I’m parasitical, don’t care who decreed it, my bacon level’s at critical. Line count: 8 Rhymed abab For Express It In Eight, 09.23.23 Prompt: Bacon Level, Alabama. |
| Ruin Though I know that England’s empire has returned into sand Vanished from my hand Left me blindly here to stand, but still not sleeping My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet I have no one to meet And the ancient empty streets too dead for dreaming Mr. Tambourine Man, Bob Dylan The map’s brave red leached by the sun Dyed a million colours by the rain The memories come home to roost Graffiti drawn by fingers on the pane So the evening’s shadows soundless fall The stones of yesterday reduced to dust No more the faint lullaby of bugles call Our edifice alone and dreaming rusts. Line count: 8 Rhymed abcb For Express It In Eight, 09.22.23 Prompt: Write a poem about ruins. |
| I Bought a Lemon The lady so forward and zesty I made her my positive besty The problem was I Was backward and shy So I left and now live in Trieste. It’s all very well To come out of your shell But for me it was something like hell. Line count: 8 Form: Augmented limerick (I just invented it) For Express It In Eight, 09.21.23 Prompt: Write a zesty poem. |
| The Bowling Green I did not mean thus to demean the finest green that I have seen, it was my bent that what I meant (my wish fervent is heaven sent) was to secure my motives pure, I do assure (not to obscure) your fabled lawn is neatly shorn, so sweetly drawn to greet the dawn. Line count: 8 Rhymed couplets For Express It In Eight, 09.20.23 Prompt: Meant. |
| Oops 3 Full fathom five thy father lies, that’ll teach him to go swimming after eating jumbo burgers, fries, accompanied by women. The weatherman predicted storms, for once he’d got it right, he shattered all the usual norms, your dad he thought it s***e. Line count: 8 Rhymed abab For Express It In Eight, 09.19.23 Prompt: Fathom. |
| What They Used To Be Yggdrasill, the World Tree, older by far than time, to friends it’s known as Iggy, not oak, nor beech, not larch, not verdant lime, but ash, declared the Piggy, higher than the beetling sky, bright as summertime, there’s none dare call it Twiggy, but now its fame has passed away, its honour only grime, I think I need a ciggy. Line count: 8 Rhymed abababab For Express It In Eight, 09.18.23 Prompt: Write a poem about something/someone old. |
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