K. Dana
K. Dana
I fail to see rain
while it is distant and small,
needing the deluge.
Haiku
The car key, broken,
looking like a metaphor:
plastic case spills out
plates of tiny circuitry.
Mobility implosion.
Tanka
She wakes
shifts clumsily
disquiet hovering
tender imprints flower, doves mourn
blood sun.
Cinquain
You took
too much, it seems.
So many holes in me
makes it hard to float. While I sink,
we drown.
Cinquain
In the yard, two palm trees stand, roots entwined, a pretty pair
One is lithe with supple fronds, the other strong, a sturdy foil
A breeze slides in to tease their fringe, invite a sway, incite the play
Flirtatiously it orchestrates a symphony of air
A rustle builds like rain in spring bubbling on a pond
With harmony from silvered fans, a counterpoint of rasping chords
The wind grows fresh, conducts a dance, constructs the choreography
Audaciously all undulate to rhythm it commands
A final swirl of fallen leaves, a ruffle through the flowered beds
The zephyr flees for other scenes and undiscovered notes
The soundtrack stills for just a beat, the steps complete, a change of tracks
Vivacious strains of finches’ flight and sparrows’ sprightly psalms
In the yard, the palms embrace, their branches intertwined
Gracious with tranquility and melodies enshrined
Sonnet
Author's note: *tone poem: a piece of orchestral music, usually in a single continuous movement, which illustrates or evokes the content of a poem, short story, novel, painting, landscape or other
(non-musical) source