Poetry Stretch Results - Rhopalic Verse

The challenge this week was to write a rhopalic verse. This form was not for the weak-hearted. Here are the results.

TeacherDance shares a poem about trees.

Egg
by Kate Coombs of BookAunt

Egg whitely incubating
its contents: intricate machinery, imaginary
innovation.

We're waiting.

But nothing emerges.
Not chicken, rattlesnake,
owl, swallow, platypus.

It's simple:
Eggs matter
when shattered
from within
by pipping, curious, oxygenated
new earth-kin.

--Kate Coombs, 2011, all rights reserved


The Deck in Spring
by Laura Purdie Salas

Grey, weathered survivor
of winter, fossilized
bones, backyard skeleton

Your secret compartment,
last summer’s Memorial,
held July’s thunderstorms
held August’s sunflowers
held even September’s disappearing
heat

safe during December’s
white, fluffy, beautiful
snowfall,
safe during exacting January’s
cold, stinging
blizzards
safe during demanding February’s
old, bitter hollowness

safe, waiting
for April
for
me


Breakfast
by Barbara J. Turner of Not Kansas

crisp bacon sizzling
hot atop mountainous
egg islands sunnyside
up, finger sausages,
toast, apple marmalade,
juice - orange, unsweetened,
all eaten happily, irregardless
of nasty calories.

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.