Maggie Sawkins, who leads local poetry and creative group Tongues & Grooves has unleashed a local #writingchallenge and they kindly let us publish the responses. This week’s challenge is to write a poem of 14 lines in which every line ends with the same word. That’s it.
By Maggie Sawkins
There’s something about a picaroon
that makes you swoon for a picaroon,
but before you fall for a picaroon,
beware! for the faults of a picaroon
far outweigh the charms of a picaroon.
The wit and wiliness of one picaroon
is often admired by another picaroon.
They may offer you the moon, the picaroon,
but you’ll live in the shade of a picaroon
marooned on a shipwreck named Picaroon,
on an island plundered by a picaroon.
Pick anything you like but a picaroon.
By Amanda Garrie
Our bodies are, on average sixty percent water:
to sustain it we drink water,
we wash in water,
and swim in water;
we cry tears of sea water,
our brains flood with glyal water,
we pee toxins away with water;
we came from the water,
we belong in the water,
we long for the water,
sing songs of the water;
can’t live without water,
are husks without water,
will die without water.
By Stacey Leanne Appleton
Once, a dishevelled and uncared for space
Not a loved space.
Not full of grandeur space
Not a forest dense space
Or an open skies wide space
Or an oceans vast space
Not even a valleys green space
Suddenly, becomes a haven space
Walled as if a castle space.
Protecting life space
Protecting hope space
Protecting dreams space
Our touch with the world space
A sanctuary space
Strange how we are dictated by our surrounding space.
I am forever grateful for this small space.
By Marie Monro
This idea stemmed from something I discovered the other day that in Japan they apparently don’t have the equivalent to our vague ‘ish’ adjective!?
So here’s A Poem (ish!)
A funny-ish, hairy-ish Cornish
Pixie, behaving slightly Impish
Uttering total jibberish
Acting completely foolish
Trying to relinquish anguish
for not being… cool-ish
Wants to be more Devilish
Not girlish English Elfish
More Irish Leprechaunish
Hair all sunshine yellowish
Mopish, slightly foppish
Looking sort of hottish
Not baboonish, nor scampish
Cuter, kinda Dwarfish
By Sue Attridge
I think I need a co-ordinator
Now, I need a co-ordinator
I see a new side to my co-ordinator
Shamed to need a co-ordinator
When you’re all at sea, co-ordinator
I creep around my co-coordinator
May bite off my head my co-ordinator
But seems endless patience has my co-ordinator
Astonished by my little co-ordinator
Hot shots would pay top dollar for my co-ordinator
When l’m all at sea, my co-ordinator
Who keeps an eye on me? My co-ordinator.
By Lesley Carr
I thought I heard a cry.
What was it, that cry?
Maybe the cry
Of a gull, the cry
Of a mongrel, or cry
Of a child? The cry
Echoed round me, cry
Cry, cry, cry, cry.
Why is it that cry
Haunts me, unknown cry
In airless night; cry
Carrying fear, or cry
Of excitement? Cry
You can take part in the regular Tongues & Grooves #WritingChallenge over on their Facebook page and check out their website and Twitter, too.
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