Poetry Stretch Results - Shadorma

The challenge this week was to write in the form of shadorma, a six-line poem with with a syllable count of 3/5/3/3/7/5. Here are the results.

Owl, Meet Skier
by Laura Purdie Salas

Shadowy,
Solid shape on tree
Lifts, spreads, swoops—
Hoo-hoo-hooooo!
Introduction drifts like snow
Hangs in twilight sky


The next three poems are by K. Thomas Slesarik.

Onion Thief
He took ten
yellow onions from
a garden
late last week.
Then snuck back in on Tuesday
but just took a leek.


The Peculiar Mosquito
It landed
on my arm with a
sweet, simple,
lilting grace.
The mosquito’s curlicue
covered her cute face.


Marriage Minded Melons
Honeydews
should not elope with
cantaloupes
sans prenup,
in case of course, they divorce.
That’s a travesty.

Poems ©2010 by K. Thomas Slesarik


Shadowrama x 4
by Jane Yolen

This shadow
lifting from a branch,
a shadow
of a branch,
into the shadow-filled sky
reminds me of you.

This full moon,
caught in the tree’s arms,
the dead tree,
roost for owls,
knocking place for woodpeckers,
reminds me of you.

Each small thing,
in nature’s cupboard,
each shadow,
and each shade
of feather, fur, leafmeal, mold
reminds me of you

who is now
tree, moon, owl, sky, wing,
shadow, ash,
memory
as insubstantial as air,
as necessary.

©2010 Jane Yolen All rights reserved


The next two poems are by Kate Coombs of Book Aunt.

My Nephew's Wedding, 1/02/10
Too much noise,
too many people,
too much food...
But the best
too much was the look in her
eyes, the look in his.


Still Life with Yogurt
Blueberries
clump in a white bowl
beneath clouds
of yogurt.
I think about Einstein as
the minutes click by.

How is it
that each minute seems
fraught somehow,
yet pointless?
Now blueberries remind me
of wet wheelbarrows.

The yogurt
can be white chickens,
or this page—
it's white, too.
It can be chickens, and my
pen the wheelbarrow.

Everything
matters, or nothing
does. Yogurt,
my fingers,
the pen, and now you reading:
I say everything.

—Kate Coombs, 2010


Steven Withrow of Crackles of Speech shares an untitled shadorma.


Shadorma
by Heidi Mordhorst of my juicy little universe

sleep sizzles
aromatically
on the spit
of night. carve
juicy slices onto white
sheets of pita bed.

©2010 Heidi Mordhorst, all rights reserved


NOT EVERYTHING IMPROVES WITH AGE
by Diane Mayr of Random Noodling

When I was
younger I lobbied
for peace. Once
when I went
to buy a banner, the flag
store had only one--

Peace on Earth--
over a manger.
Christmas is
just ONE day!
Every year has three hundred
sixty-five total!

Foolish youth!
Now, I'm older. Now
I know that
if we had
peace on earth, for JUST one day,
we'd be in heaven.


Inquisition
by Julie Larios of The Drift Record

A poor Moor
waiting at your gate,
too late now
for fake faith,
I hear a songbird confess,
"si...te adoro."


This untitled poem was written by Susan Taylor Brown.

in silence
words impatiently
wait for me
beg me for
stories only I can write
soon, I promise, soon


JUMBLED INNARDS
by Carol Weis

Interview
twists up my belly
jumbles my
innards and
hurls me into a cyclone
of boisterous dread.

© Carol Weis. All rights reserved.


Jone of Deo Writer shares a poem inspired by a homeless girl and her baby.

Andi of a wrung sponge shares a poem entitled Snow Showers at Dawn.

I can't seem to get the war and those I know serving out of mind. This poem is for them. (I know it needs another stanza, but I'm still working on it!)

Days X-ed out
counting time until
you come home
boots worn, heart
heavy with tales you cannot
tell—I hate this war

but love your
resolve, the courage
with which you
serve again
and again, no sacrifice
too small—what a price

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