nbecky dolezal

Because it’s Friday, let’s keep it light and silly today, with a clerihew. This is a four line poem biographical poem that satirizes a famous person.

an invitation to poetic shade?


nbecky nbasic dolezal
makes of herself a new-rich fool
each day of her subtweeted life
longing for a sweet beyond buds, she falls


45, who lost his name
and his dignity on the path to fame
was a fool with bloody hands
flowerless, more beast than man

there is no comfort

Today’s prompt is an oldie-but-a-goody: the ghazal. The form was originally developed in Arabic and Persian poetry, but has become increasingly used in English, after being popularized by poets including Agha Shahid Ali. A ghazal is formed of couplets, each of which is its own complete statement. Both lines of the first couplet end with the same phrase or end-word, and that end-word is also repeated at the end of each couplet.

There is no comfort inside a broken heart
no place to safely step in a shattered heart

There is no comfort where there is no power
stripped down to the bright red wounded heart

There were children walking that street, that field
now there’s only the bitter dust of mother’s heart

Every single day, all over this singular earth
we weaponize our minds against the heart

All the uniforms say ‘I will kill if I am told to’
Fingers taut, targeting anyone with freedom of the heart

Tell me, will you ever lose your acquired taste
for the raw flesh of a young and supple heart

And how long will we scream and beat our chests in anguish
Before we divest from all structures not rooted in the heart?


In honor of Mary Oliver’s work, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that is based in the natural world: it could be about a particular plant, animal, or a particular landscape. But it should be about a slice of the natural world that you have personally experienced and optimally, one that you have experienced often. Try to incorporate specific details while also stating why you find the chosen place or plant/animal meaningful.

the first time we howled
the moon was a sliver
a cup of light poised to pour
a stardust fascinator of gold
on the blue black

we were life moving through the forest
stepping on small branches which snapped with our weight
maple cracks sharp, oak cracks wet
magnolia cracks like fire
we sought the soft needles of pine

the moon was not bright enough
to cast truth on the borders
to say here, not here, there
all we could hear was the drum of fear
almost there, almost there

we were three miles free before we came to the endless river moving slow
the sun rising to pull pink steam off the
glistening path
us hunched on the rocks with fingers sliding into river

it’s so cold we gasp, and then we laugh
we’re so free we gasp
and then
we laugh

home going

Now for our prompt (optional, as always). One of the most popular British works of classical music is Edward Elgar’s Enigma Variations. The “enigma” of the title is widely believed to be a hidden melody that is not actually played, but which is tucked somehow into the composition through counterpoint. Today I’d like you to take some inspiration from Elgar and write a poem with a secret – in other words, a poem with a word or idea or line that it isn’t expressing directly. The poem should function as a sort of riddle, but not necessarily a riddle of the “Why is a raven like a writing desk?” variety. You could choose a word, for example, “yellow,” and make everything in the poem something yellow, but never actually allude to their color. Or perhaps you could closely describe a famous physical location or person without ever mentioning what or who it actually is.

i was going home

from the store, pockets heavy
crossing the street i was eighty feet tall
a boy full of breath looking for a good time
a near-man who barely knew of kissing

pew pew pew
i was protecting everyone from robbers
with my plastic
and my wild american imagination
i was almost there

i was fear free flagrant woman
tobacco smoke in the car to balance my mind
i had a long day, my lover held my throat up for kisses before night came

to be honest i didn’t love the song
i just loved the vibration in the seat of the car, the walls, the rolled down windows shivering in rhythm
waiting for the tank to fill
to feel the wind move through our youth

i crashed the car in the night
shook up, surrounded by people in big houses, i chose the closest one
later i sent a thank you note for the moments in the light,
the use of the phone to call my momma

when i was a girl i would curl up next to grandma
so safe, i’d sleep like a cat in the sun
in the blue tones of TV light
on our hushed black street

i thought i was home
but i was going