30 August 2013

Love Gwawdodyn

How'd I get in this situation?
I've gone from mild infatuation
and went above and beyond for your love!
An eye opening revelation!

© JPW 2013

29 August 2013

There On The Shore Again

He saw her at the beach -
every summer.
Memory always brings him
to stand  
where they had first made love.

© JPW 2013

dVerse Poets Pub - Meeting the Bar ...One More Time

A reworking of my original poem "Here On The Shore"


My Music:
Give me a song with a beat,
make my feet move
to a groove I can dance to;
take a chance to find
romance too, if I’ve a mind to.
Melody matters; lyric flatters,
I can’t carry a tune for shit,
but if it’s a hit I can fake it
as long as you can take it.
Give me a song with a beat.

My Team,
is a nightmare, dressed as a dream,
conforming to sports passion
with the team’s current fashion.
Anything for a buck,
and it’s just my luck -
we’re still in contention
for dishonorable mention.
I swallow my pride,
don my paper bag and hide.
Give out a cheer, “There’s always next year!”

My Meter Is Running.
This muse of mine
works just fine. 
But I laugh and I scoff
because I can’t turn it off.
I can fill any form
and make my words swarm
but, a terse verse
keeps repeating on me.
It can only get worse,
when hooked on poetry.

 © JPW 2013

Poets United -Verse First ~ Original Obsessions
(Three of your obsessions as three stanzas of your poem)

28 August 2013


The soul has no windows,
as far as I can see.
But the truth has a heart,
and getting to the heart of the truth
takes a lot of belief
and a bit of faith.
Your ears will hear
what your eyes will not receive.
Do not trust your eyes,
for you realize that the soul
of a person rests in the eyes of truth.
Why didn't I see that before?

© JPW 2013

Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer - Vision - Prompt 234


Might as well be cold as hell,
this mission was a hard sell.

Blasting off and out of here,
it's been a long time since it was clear,

a long, long time. I packed my bags
but this feeling only serves to drag

me back to earth. Star-gazers
and out of this world trail blazers

are best served in solitary pursuits
not rocketing around in space suits,

Yet still, I'm luckier than some.
I could have wound up Major Tom!

© JPW 2013

27 August 2013


Robert Lee Brewer of Poetic Asides writes:

The gwawdodyn is a Welsh poetic form with a couple variations. However, both versions are comprised of quatrains (4-line stanzas) that have a 9/9/10/9 syllable pattern and matching end rhymes on lines 1, 2, and 4. The variations are made in that third line:
  • One version has an internal rhyme within the third line. So there’s a rhyme somewhere within the third line with the end rhyme on the third line.
  • The other version has an internal rhyme within the third line that rhymes with an internal rhyme in the fourth line.
In both cases, the rhyme starts somewhere in the middle of the third line and it is a unique rhyme to the end rhyme in lines 1, 2, and 4.

Here’s a possible diagram for the first version (with the x’s symbolizing syllables):

Note: The “b” rhyme in the middle of line 3 could slide to the left or right as needed by the poet.

These are gwawdodyn poems I have entered in his August form challenge featuring the gwawdodyn:


 There’s never a dull moment in space

Flotsam and jetsam about the place,

There’s no solution for this pollution,

In my mind, it’s a downright disgrace!

 © JPW 2013


 And such is the life of a poet,

when he writes a good rhyme you know it.

Words with passion are always in fashion,

You think you’re a poet?  Then show it!

 © JPW 2013


 It’s a peaceful repast to your day,

Which fulfills you in every way.

It always seems we spend time in daydreams,

And not enough on living, I’d say!

© JPW 2013


 There on the wall it becomes your call

as per who’s the fairest of them all?

You’re up all night; all you’ve got is Snow White?

That’s why you were put back in the hall!

 © JPW 2013


 I’m sick of this downtown construction,

and driving amidst this destruction.

Had I half a brain, I’d take me a train

with nary an ounce of compunction.

 © JPW 2013


 I tell the tale of the Great White Whale

for upon the Pequot I did sail.

Getting seasick chasing this “Moby Dick”,

Ahab’s obsession. Call me Ishmael.

© JPW 2013


It’s said, “Lemmings must go to the sea”,

just as sailors must too, don’t you see?

Sailors go boating, they end up floating,

while lemmings just drown there in the sea!

© JPW 2013

25 August 2013


He considered it a bitter pill, not to be swallowed or spit out; it was meant for Randall Williams to keep to himself never to be consumed. The man knew their fates were doomed from the start. Life’s puzzle was missing pieces, but it  had enough to offer the promise of not allowing it to go South. He knew hope springs eternal, but the fierce competitive nature of this man possessed didn’t allow for promises or hope. From the moment Williams had stepped off of the train, he had heard the cries and seen the tears from the dust encrusted eyes of the children left to wander in this desert. The winds were gusting violently; they knew nothing of filters for protection. All the town folk of Waverly knew was that death was slowly filling their lungs, leaving them nothing but an excuse to die. This was worse than any prison sentence. Dr. Randall William was some angel of mercy! He couldn’t help them. He felt as if he was in hell!

© JPW 2013

First attempt at The Sunday Whirl Wordle (#123)

Submitted to dVerse/Poets Pub OLN Week #111

24 August 2013


At the harbor by Judith Clay
 To the harbor Judith went,
her umbrella in hand.
Departure time had come;
had went and she was wet

for it rained cats, and dogs,
and wombats, and ocelots,

and toucans, and hedgehogs
and a couple pear tree partridges.
The steamer churned and in it’s wake,

it kicked up the creatures of the deep:
Squids and eels, whales and seals,
Catfish and halibut. To her credit
Judith caught a fish!

© JPW 2013


23 August 2013


He saw her at the beach,
lovely and lanky was she

and with a style that outshone
every summer sun ever seen.

Her voice was quite hypnotic;
his thoughts of her were quixotic.

That memory always brings him back. 
Alone he comes to stand

there on the very sand
where they had first made love.

© JPW 2013

dVerse Poets Pub ~ Getting Tight In There (55)

22 August 2013


Swimming, an exercise from here
to there. Choppy waters wish
to take a soul floating onward
to a place where her footing is found.
Arms paddle and legs churn,
aches and fatigue become
the lead that muscles despise.
No bottom and endless water
ahead. Being awash upon
the sands that time has numbered.
Shallow returns and toes drag.
Standing on the sandbar you ponder.
Does the journey continue, 
after the promise of home calls you?

© JPW 2013

21 August 2013


Inside, a rotting, lurking in shadows
of darkened thought. Confidence
takes a powder and all that remains
are the knock-kneed jitters of
these failing nerves. Seldom brought
out to play; never wandering past
nose’s end. The journey of a thousand miles
ceases before that first step lands.
Needing a leap of faith
to allow flight to commence.
Waiting for fear to subside.
And yet, inside, a rotting.

© JPW 2013


Granular silica reaching
fully across the beach,
allowing the lake to leach
through every niche
and crevice, it teaches
us that infinity is within reach
in every step we take, each
in silent prayer, we beseech.

© JPW 2013

20 August 2013


Warm breezes waft,
a windward caress on this
night of endless stars.
Flickering pokes into
the shrouded black night,
leaving blurbs of light
to illuminate the sand
and star-crossed lovers,
finding their passion's kiss
along the rippled glass
of star light's fervent dance.

© JPW 2013


Clouds billow, broken
by wind and His mighty hand. 
Azure is always preferred,
but the blue is as deep
as the lake's expanse.
Ripples disturb, a turbulent
swipe of nature to provoke
clouds on the water, an image
mirrored from above, below.
A spreading horizon, beginning and
ending as the same breathless view.

© JPW 2013

Also posted at Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer - Vision - Prompt 234


On this silent shore I ponder.
Thoughts invade like rebel raiders
wreaking havoc on my serene state
only to incite and ignite these thoughts
into words, my stillness flows
like a crystalline river - deep and blue,
and you are the giver of all things
that desire has discarded. I find much
in my mind of thought to occupy my days.

© JPW 2013