The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS May 11/19. Strain.

Take the strain

It’s worth the pain

We’ll never walk this way again.

Lose the slack

Don’t even look back

Tighten up we’re under attack.

Fight the stress

Your such a bloody mess

Keep it tight there’s no redress.

So take the stain

And loose the slack

Fight the stress there’s no going back.

This strained emotion came to your care of LindaGHill’s #SoCs.

Guess That Art III! Alien meets Predator meets Tangled?

Ron of Ronovanwrite’s has set us another art conundrum.

He says: “If you don’t know who this one is instantly, then you very likely won’t figure it out. Let’s just say the artist isn’t well known by us lay people for this kind of work. I liked it a lot. ”

Well I had a couple of guesses but suggested Picasso. I was wrong.

Ron also said : “Write a piece of poetry or even a post. If you create a post, link back to here or even put your link in the comments, just like with the Haiku Challenge. Or you can simply share your poetry in the comments”

Well recognised or not this is a very haunting image. I have written a poem . I look forward to finding out about this intriguing piece of art.

Guess that art 3

Trapped and struggling to be free

The dark wages war inside of me.

Caught in a Forrest of terrors

Distorted by a thousand mirrors.

It fights itself, it fights me

In it’s eternal struggle to flee.

Blind and mute, completely lost

Striking out, I pay the cost.

It’s arms and legs carry knives

Hate and passion fill it’s dull eyes.

The path is set no hope for me

I dare not set the darkness free

Colleen’s 2019 Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 122

As Colleen says: “Valentine’s Day isn’t far off. This is your opportunity to write all that love poetry you’ve been saving. Go ahead… May the muse be with you. ❤

It’s the first challenge of the month which means poets get to choose their own words.

I have chosen my favourite of the moment the Etheree. The words I have chosen are Unrequited and Obsession.

Bring me his heart.

Bring

Me his

Heart I said

I long for him

He does not know l

Even exist, heart pounding

Just for him, blindly I asked

For his heart which you have bought me

Foolish words have caused me to lose him

I’ve unwittingly lost all I desire.

Colleen Chesebro Weekly Tuesday Tanka Poetry Challenge. Dance & Command.

This week for Colleen’s weekly poetry challenge we have the words Dance and Command. The twist is we have to use synonyms.

Rules and Pingback Here

First I did a Senryu about relationship.

Image from Pixabay

Like a doll she twirls

He thinks it’s to his orders

No, she pulls his strings

*********************

And then a Haiku.

Image from Pixabay

Snowdrops, Crocuses

Perform annual ballet

As young Spring decrees.

*********************

Finally a Tanka.

Image from Pexels

A fatal tango

I trip the light fantastic

My inner voice screams no

I do his bidding blindly

Yet still I get it all wrong.

Essence Silence

Today my essence is about painful silence.

For Jane Dougherty’s daily essence poem challenge

Image from Here

Silence winds around us

Slowly binds, it’s our curse.

Colleen Chesebro Weekly Poetry Challenge NO. 54.

This week Colleen Chesebro of Fairy Whisperer has set us the words Ghost and Haunt, for her Tuesday Poetry Challenge. 

Rules and Pingback Here

Tanka  :Ghost and Haunt

Image from Pixabay

I feel you here now
Tell me why you haunt me still

You left on a row

I am a ghost of myself

I died, you haunt me from life.

                  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Image From Pixabay

Senryu : Totter.

No ghost of a chance

I try  hard not to totter

These high heels haunt me.

Journal For Poetry Challenge#7 29,01,2012

Wilfred Owen (1893-1918) is widely recognised as one of the greatest voices of the First World War. His self-appointed task was to speak for the men in his care, to show the ‘Pity of War’.

Owen’s enduring and influential poetry is evidence of his bleak realism, his energy and indignation, his compassion and his great technical skill.The Wilfred Owen Association was formed in 1989 to commemorate Wilfred Owen’s life and work. You can learn more at http://wilfredowen.org.uk/home/

#########################################

STRANGE MEETING                                                                                  

It seemed that out of battle I escaped
Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
Through granites which titanic wars had groined.

Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared
With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
Lifting distressful hands, as if to bless.
And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall,-
By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.

With a thousand pains that vision’s face was grained;
Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground,
And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan.
“Strange friend,” I said, “here is no cause to mourn.”
“None,” said that other, “save the undone years,
The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,
Was my life also, I went hunting wild
After the wildest beauty in the world,
Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,
But mocks the steady running of the hour,
And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.
For by my glee might many men have laughed,
And of my weeping something had been left,
Which must die now I mean the truth untold,
The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
Now men will go content with what we spoiled,
Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.
They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress.
None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.
Courage was mine, and I had mystery,
Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery:
To miss the march of this retreating world
Into vain citadels that are not walled.
Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels,
I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,
Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.
I would have poured my spirit without stint
But not through wounds; not on the cess of war.
Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.
I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
I knew you in this dark: for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
Let us sleep now . . .”

############################################################

The Soldier unsure whether he is dead or sleeping finds himself deep under ground surrounded by many dead bodies. One is alive and they discuss the dire straits of war. The uselessness, the senseless waste of life. What they themselves have lost the life denied them. All for what, to fight an enemy, is this enemy so different to them . The soldier then notices that this man is the enemy. He is the same foe who he was just an hour ago fighting. Here they find each other in the same  hell.

There is no difference between them in other circumstances they could of been friends. War , blood, death and all for what!. The destruction of villages,towns, cities , the decimation of nearly whole nations, family, sweethearts, husbands wives, friend… For what …….. another war and then another …………and then ??

Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below:

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