Tag Archives: American sentence poems

17 syllables

Posted on April 12, 2021 by whimsygizmo

for when the day has been wall-to-wall wonder, too sunset-struck for words.  :: PAD Challenge, day 11.

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total loss for words

Posted on April 29, 2020 by whimsygizmo

The sky’s a sheer black slate of broken stars, a cold moon holding her tongue.     .. An American Sentence. {in april we poem.}   

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{in which she attempts to define love and hate in 17 syllables each}

Posted on April 9, 2019 by whimsygizmo

{…while holding her breath until morning} ::   Love’s got a quiet star tongue, st(r)ung bright in an infinite hum-hope-sky. Hate holds too much fire in its own belly; wastes its breath on fear, and sting.   ::   .. … Continue reading →

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ask her who she is, she’ll tell you

Posted on February 22, 2018 by whimsygizmo

She is as moon, and does not hold her own full light; still, sometimes, she shines. An American Sentence poem for Day 22 for Grace’s 28 Days of Self Love. 

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last sip of tangerine bliss

Posted on April 23, 2017 by whimsygizmo

  :: the sun slips low past ocean tongue, and the crimson-stung sea swallows deep. :: .. PAD, day 23. 

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Somewhere in the City

Posted on April 16, 2017 by whimsygizmo

{An American sentence}    Streetlamp solely sees them: lovers enfold, only raindrops between them.     .. Prompted by toads. 

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Indigo Sonata

Posted on April 11, 2017 by whimsygizmo

(an American sentence)   .. She breathes in shades of blue, believes, leaves the sonnet writing to the breeze.   .. Prompted by PAD, day 11.   

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Keep This Under Your Skin

Posted on March 16, 2017 by whimsygizmo

(As Deep As That Dark Blue Sea) ………….(An American Sentence)   .. ::…..We’re sharing salt again, waiting for the sky to solve these too small dreams.…..::

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Duncan Imperial Dawn

Posted on February 15, 2017 by whimsygizmo

.. here’s the thing: time’s nothing but a spinning kite-top blur, with (out) a string.     .. prompted by twiglets number 11. come play! 

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Volley

Posted on January 31, 2017 by whimsygizmo

Golly, but the world’s got a way of arguing itself crazy, yes? .. An American sentence poem for Twiglets number 9.       

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