Poetry Stretch Results - Reverso

The challenge this week was to write in the form of reverso. Here are the results.

Harriet of spynotes shares a poem entitled Tafelmusik.

Heart To hear Is A small shift With a flick of the bow, Like two sine waves crossing, At once Coming together and Flying apart, A duet.

A duet Flying apart, Coming together and, At once, Like two sine waves crossing With a flick of the bow, A small shift Is To hear Heart.

Julie Larios of The Drift Record shared this poem.

It’s a neat trick, This slick reversal: Can I handle The movement, the tick to tock, the click to clack of it, the back to back - I mean, the down to up? I love the frown-to-smile of it, The way that Singer sang it. I’ll try it.

I’ll try it the way that Singer sang it: I love the frown-to-smile of it - I mean, the down to up, the back to back, the click to clack of it, the movement, the tick to tock. Can I handle this slick reversal? It’s a neat trick.

Pat (is that you Mr. Lewis?) left a poem entitled Nicholas Needham: Book Head-Case and Bookcase Head.

You can read him like a book Nicholas Needham—take a look: As he grew a book-case head For he read and read and read He would need ‘em through the years Bookmark nose and bookend ears Grew enormous bookworm eyes Nicholas Needham, child-size, Barely three feet from the floor Sprouted up and read some more Lucky, as a little weed, Nicholas Needham learned to read.

Nicholas Needham learned to read Lucky, as a little weed, Sprouted up and read some more Barely three feet from the floor Nicholas Needham, child-size, Grew enormous bookworm eyes Bookmark nose and bookend ears He would need ‘em through the years For he read and read and read As he grew a book-case head Nicholas Needham—take a look: You can read him like a book.

Nicole Marie Schreiber shares a poem entitled A Look in the Mirror.

With pen in hand, still I stand, all astonishment, as my reflection speaks. “You are a writer?” “No.” I shake my head. It all means nothing. Fingers aching. Pages blanking. Words not flying, Stories dying. Such a sham. I’m not a real writer. I am false.

False. I am a real writer. I’m not such a sham. Stories dying, words not flying, pages blanking, fingers aching… it all means nothing. I shake my head. “No! You are a writer!" speaks my reflection, as all astonishment, still l stand, with pen in hand.

Kate Coombs of BookAunt shared two poems!

If it rains the sun will bow her head like a yellow flower and blue will turn gray, night seep into day. All will be mysterious.

All will be mysterious— night seep into day and blue will turn gray. Like a yellow flower the sun will bow her head if it rains.

--Kate Coombs, 2010, all rights reserved

Once upon a time a boy set out on a quest. He crossed mountains. He forded rivers. He sought his fortune. He met an old man— he was given an amulet. He asked a question: He spoke to the sun. He spoke to the moon. His way was long... He grew strong.

He grew strong. His way was long. He spoke to the moon. He spoke to the sun. He asked a question— he was given an amulet. He met an old man. He sought his fortune. He forded rivers. He crossed mountains. A boy set out on a quest once upon a time.

--Kate Coombs, 2010, all rights reserved

Mary Lee of A Year of Reading took a quote and turned it into a reverso.

Jone of Deo Writer shares a library/book inspired reverso.

Carol Weis shares a poem entitled Scorching Spring.

Soaring temperatures Accelerates blossoms Scorches spring Rips off t-shirts Tosses on shorts Heat

Heat Tosses on shorts Rips off t-shirts Scorches spring Accelerates blossoms Soaring temperatures

© 2010 Carol Weis

M.F. Atkins of World of Words shares a reverso for spring.

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.