Trying out another form of poetry called Tyburn. It's supposed to be 6 lines with the specific syllable counts of 2,2,2,2,9, and 9 respectively.
This last one isn't the correct syllable count, but I really liked the word 'viraling' [I made it up], so I wrote it anyway. They're supposed to be a commentary on the warped weather patterns we've been experiencing lately.
Some doodling in my sketchbook. I was going to do more to it, but drew a blank, pardon the pun. After I started drawing it, I decided it fit the poem on the previous post. I may do more drawing for that poem.
My scanner's not working, so I'm resorting to using my camera, but it's hard to get the lighting even. I had to apply curves to this, so it looks bluer than it really is.
When we can get past seeing ourselves as victims, then we can release the anger and discover our true identity.
tired again
though winter’s rest is over
sun dried chill blows
through a honeysuckle covered
briar patch
Respite cut short
by an early drought
balmy aroma settles sluggishly
among prickles and poison ivy
like artificially flavored syrup
on bleached, deep fried bread
stripped of nutritional purpose
sweet intoxication deteriorates
