Divorce Bard's Blog

...Iambic pentameter is for the ear. Read it out loud.

Divorce Bard

Divorce Bard
pretty how town, USA
February 13
While the ashes of marriage #2 were cooling, I began a journal here in verse, to keep myself out of trouble. So far so good, and one day at a time. I took a hiatus this past January, and I missed it terribly. Writing daily had changed the way I think - not my opinions, but the process of thinking itself. So here I am back again, and hungry. I began with three rules: (1) Iambic pentameter, (2) Perfect rhyme, and (3) It had to be true (no hyperbole). I hereby amend rule number 3: If I'm writing about myself, yes, it has to be true. But it doesn't, if I want to tell a story.


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DECEMBER 21, 2011 12:39AM

Anonymous #13. Tuesday Dec 20, 2011

Rate: 13 Flag
Perhaps you don't exist at all - except
Imagined, cast in sev'ral lines, and then
Just laid aside with papers that I've kept
For no apparent reason.  
                                                    Then again,
Perhaps you're there, just barely out of sight...
I write these things so very late at night.

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iambic pentameter, poetry

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I'm reading this very late at night too, Bard. I doubt your sentiments could resonate any more by daylight.

Ah, yes, so very late at night. I've got a lot of papers I've saved, and now I don't remember why.
I call it my three am epiphanies. Nicely turned phrases DB, I have missed you.
Ah, but softly she sings in the music of your words and though delicate her picture, she dances on the page.

Imagined? I think not.
If they're in your head, they're there. This I must believe or grief would be too much to bear.
Wow wee. He at Pee wee karate?
Yes. Good yellow`Chicken Maaan.
An anonymous letter request to?
One who practices benevolence.
There are no pockets in a cloak.
We need money to pay the bills.
a unemployed Iraq Veteran ask:
since I homeless - Clean 2- teeth.
Chickens don't have 2- tooth. no.
He request two front white teeth.
I bumped on the Open Salon Feed.
We need chicken feed for our hens.
CEO's steal eggs, and murder hens.
a poor family in my neighborhood
have the front seat of a old Buick's
front seat on the front porch. Pew.
a family sit and wave. Rural polite.
They sits/pew and tell fun stories.
Pew means sit. They're kind folks.
we hungry
gulp yogurt.
What's more collectible: those papers or the memory you have of how you felt after reading each and every comment you've ever received on your Open Salon posts?

Yeah, I thought so!

Sending you love with these pixels my friend!
The mood is pensive. Kept papers. Why do we keep scraps? And, what a good treasure to read your verse again.
By degrees, I think you're turning Chicken Maan into a poet.
Oh, Bard ... perhaps ... perhaps ...
It is a wonderful thing when a Chicken is right ~
Lovely, DB. I've missed your poems! I know about the late night writing, when ideas flit away.
Hi everyone. Your response is heartwarming, especially since I snuck in late at night without knocking on the door.

Fusun, sometimes the day shuts all this out, honestly. Most of my memories of writing these things are about chronic sleeplessness. I'm glad you were around to read it - I noticed you'd been by, on my Blackberry, just as I turned out the light.

Ralph, aha - on those papers, I just purged a couple of boxes worth the other day. Their origins were lost to history.

rita, I missed you too, and everyone. I've been away so much, I've been in denial about what a lovely place this can be. And three am? How about 4? http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/en/rives_on_4_a_m.html

toritto, sometimes the urge to finally throw the papers away is as inexplicably strong as the urge to write something here.

Kate, with you rooting for me I think I could do this forever.

Chicken Maaan... how do you get all those accents over all those a's? (And what on earth do they sound like?) Did you notice that Kim is watching you?

Art, welcome to my front porch. I know I've been away a while, but there's not too much dust, if you don't look. Come, sit down.

mhold, one of many whom I've thoughtlessly ignored for months. Thank you so much for coming by - and you know, the comments do make me a little giddy.

scupper, I'm so gratified by your noun, "treasure". It's just a dirty piece of stone, until everyone comes by to assign value to it. Thanks.

Kim, the metaphorical internal lives of chickens are an unexplored realm. But C.M`'`^ has taken the first step.

anna1, isn't it a wonderful word? A whole iambic foot, all by itself.

catch, we must stop underestimating them. think of everything they've sacrificed for us, maybe we should finally listen.

Thanks everyone.
froggy! You snuck in after me! I'd hoped you'd be by. Thanks for piping up.
That's a big word, the word "except".