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Tag Archives: death
Connecting Flights: ottava rima
Against the current swims the steadfast one
who thinks to beat the ocean at its game.
What starts as just a wager made in fun
becomes, after an hour, much the same
as boasting that you could stare down the sun.
You cannot win. Admit it. There’s no shame
in realizing you are very small,
and not much worry to the world at all. Continue reading
Posted in Lines
Tagged #BookofForms, competition, daily poems, death, impermanence, Italian verse forms, ottava rima, poetic forms, time
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Uncertain Eternity: bref double
Pretend we will not meet again on some bright future shore;
once they are gone, the things we love are gone forever more.
But then again, there is no me to miss them when they go;
I likewise will just disappear at some point, even though
I’d like to think eternal thoughts, and in some future, know
the secrets of the universe, and say, “I told you so.” Continue reading
Posted in Lines
Tagged #BookofForms, bref double, death, eternity, French verse forms, imagination, poetic forms, time
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Too Fast, Too Young
When people talk about all the celebrity deaths at age 28, it’s always to ask, “Why did they die so young?”. But as these folks occur among your own peer group, your perspective changes. In my own case, I find … Continue reading
Posted in Planes
Tagged art, celebrity, creativity, death, expectations, legacy, music
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Birth and Death
I have nothing to say, and I am saying it. That is poetry. – 13 Words, John Cage Where does it begin? What is “it”? What is a “beginning”? If you’re going to plumb the depths of the universe and … Continue reading
A Simple Rule: tercet
There is for life a very simple rule: stand up when you must stand, and then lay down; the grave awaits the king, wise man, and fool. 06 JUN 2017 © 2017, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.
Posted in Lines
Tagged #BookofForms, death, life, poetic forms, rules, simplicity, tercet
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Let’s Toast: stave
It makes no sense to soldier on; the dusk looks so much like the dawn that even should the sun eclipse there is no cause to do backflips or celebrate the coming day. But come, let’s toast life, anyway! Each … Continue reading
Posted in Lines
Tagged #BookofForms, alcoholism, death, illusion, life, poetic forms, positivity, purpose, stave
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I Cannot Speak: rondeau
I cannot speak of what I’ve seen: the smell of bleach is on those scenes, and faintly, on each memory’s breath, a subtle scent of loss and death, with hints of joy and hope between. I hear the dripping fat, … Continue reading
Posted in Lines
Tagged #BookofForms, death, French verse forms, gardens, poetic forms, rebirth, rondeau, silence, speech, spring
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