Shock – It Doesn’t All Rhyme

Bit of a shock announcement. The poetry on this site will no longer all rhyme. Please, take a moment if you need it.

Yes, it’s true. Corrupted by poetiness, these days I read and write more and more poems that don’t rhyme.  Oh, I still love rhyme. I still write rhyme. I quite often sneak rhymes into supposedly non-rhymey poems just as a gift to myself. But I have also taken the broken, non-rhyming things into my heart and found them quite… lovable.

So, anyway, look, if you clicked on itallrhymes.com, you will have been rudely conveyed here, to ninaparmenter.com and a site that appears to be called Nina Parmenter Poetry. But never fear. It’s not all about me. I’ll be posting other poets and poety stuff too.

And if free verse is not for you…
Don’t worry. There’ll be rhyming too.

 

 

 

Image by Prawny from Pixabay

Back To Me

Nothing wrong with a little feel good poem from time to time…

Back to Me

This my nothing-happy,
my stone-faced bliss,
this is my sweet release
from grinning artifice.
I am floating on zero,
life-sloughed and stuff-free,
I am guileless, I am tribeless,
I am back to me.

 

For more poems in your life, follow me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/parmenterpoetry, or follow me on Twitter @ninaparmenter

Bellows

You are supposed to mellow as you get older. I have not. I am barely able to watch the breakfast news any more, for fear of whichever condescending windbag politician is to be wheeled out at 7:30 to trot out the party line. For fear of the rage they will provoke!

So! Today, instead of breakfast news, I am posting my little poemy rant. Enjoy!

Bellows

Hand him a twitch to wake the bag,
breathe him a wind and watch him blow!
His leathery skin will show no marks,
the flames need fuel and bellows.

Offer him up to breakfast news,
pipe him a phrase and watch him blow!
his spasming mouth will puff and squeal –
the flames are fuelled by bellows.

Now cycle it out to the populace!
Pump up their passions and watch them blow
and blurt on their garrulous timelines; feed
the flames with fuel and bellows.

And when some commission arrives to prise
his apertures open – watch them blow!
Why, empty has nothing to answer for.
The flames need fools and bellows.

This poem was first published in the May 21 edition of Snakeskin:  www.snakeskinpoetry.co.uk

For more poems in your life, follow me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/parmenterpoetry, or follow me on Twitter @ninaparmenter

 

Image by suju-foto from Pixabay