Poetry Stretch Results - Lipogram

The challenge this week was to write a lipogram. This is writing in which one or more letters of the alphabet are excluded from the work. Here's are the results.

Marianne Nielsen at Doing the Write Thing! shares a poem entitled Without. It leaves out the letter E.

Jane Yolen left this achingly beautiful and bittersweet poem in the comments.

Without U

When my dear one died,
I was by his side
in a chair,
holding his hand,
speaking of love.
His son standing
played a song
he’d especially loved.
Then son and I,
now the only “we” in the room,
whispered
“Go across the water,”
which the song spoke of.
“Go beloved,
sans fear, sans care
for the children, wife, life.”
And he floated away
in death becoming
earth,
sky,
memory,
blessing,
and birdsong.

Tess of Natural Worlds wrote a poem entitled THEY. It leaves out the letter I.

Schelle at Brand New Ending wrote a reverse lipogram in which the same letter appears in every word. Her poem is entitled Dragonfly.

Julie Larios at The Drift Record also left a poem in the comments. It is written without the letter U.

SAVED

Saved the last
dance for him, saved
a polka, saved
the sad song
for someone else,
meanwhile saved the whales,
saved the three little pigs
from the wolf,
saved me from myself
while he waited,
saved pennies, saved
lives, saved
the waving wheat,
saved anything
in need of saving,
saved collectibles,
saved green stamps,
saved salt
and pepper shakers,
saved styrofoam boxes,
saved the day
and the planet
all while he waited,
and then he saved me
a piece, saved me
a seat, saved me
a place in Heaven.

Lisa Chellman at under the covers wrote a poem without the letter I. It is called _dent_ty Theft.

cloudscome at a wrung sponge left this poem in the comments.

U ter ectomy
by Andromeda Jazmon

When the tears
didn't stop
the weeping became
boring and messy.
I called the doctor.

She said
it's probably
that age
we know what comes now.

Then later she called
back on the eve
of nativity.
The test showed
it's leaning toward
cancer.

Gather what is needed,
Prepare to be gone
three days &
come back slowly.

The fist that clenched
life and spit it
from me.
The rose that pealed
red in layers of pink.
The shell that rocked
in anger (twisted
in strength).

Gone. Only the ache
remains.

I've been working on poems about nocturnal animals all week. In my efforts I've tried to leave out the letters A and E. Here is the start of one.

Brought out of
obscurity by
soft moonlight
two rustling owls
hoot hoot

It's not to late if you still want to play. Leave me a note about your lipogram and I'll add it to the list.