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 |    A log of the magnificent journey across the vast sea of my imagination. |
 A log of our magnificent journey. |
| Poppies pollinate here to consecrate the lives lost across the sea. Their families mourn with the poppies worn to symbolize bravery. Because heroes' blood mingled with the mud, poppies bloom in Normandy. They blanket the land where men died in sand to preserve their memory. Notes on the Alouette form of poetry ▼ |
| A mother cries when precious son departs for war. A mother cries and will forever agonize when Army rep knocks on her door. The grieving shakes her to the core, so mother cries. Notes on the Rondelet form of poetry ▼ |
| The earth becomes a canvas for Mother Nature's art when Heaven pours its bounty upon the ground and then brushes flower garden with lots of sunshine, 'til sprouts of daffodils and pansies abound. She paints my yard in vibrant green, gold, and magenta, bejeweled with resplendent morning dew drops, viewed with wonder from my perch in back porch rocking chair while savoring scrumptious cherry lollipops. Notes on the Doha form of poetry ▼ |
| When Little John, the leprechaun, published his mystery novel regarding forest episodes, he became a celebrity. Folks all gathered at the tavern with Little John, the leprechaun, retelling all the tales he wrote about the pot of gold and such. Community citizens praised his civic generosity, when Little John, the leprechaun, shared his royalties with the town. Because of all that has happened, every youngster of his clan wishes they could be as famous as Little John, the leprechaun. Notes on the Quatern form of poetry ▼ |
Family secrets remained hidden in old box on top closet shelf, until Mama passed away without any forewarning. We found treasures there, but those late discoveries did not ease the pain. Notes on the Oriental Octet form of poetry ▼ |
Sleep deprived poets keep schedule contrived to find time to write, anytime, anywhere-- in the middle of the night while lounging in their underwear. Notes on the Eight-ette form of poetry ▼ |
| My uncle Jeb went overseas to fight against Vietnamese, where battle pitch was amplified when outside influences tried to turn the conflict on its side. Beware the spider's tangled trap, or you will be one sorry chap. Our brave young soldiers could not hide from Agent Orange herbicide, which spread upon the summer breeze and later caused severe disease for those engaged with enemies. Beware the spider's tangled trap, or you will be one sorry chap. Notes on the Sevenelle form of poetry ▼ |
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My review is based on professional editing points. It is meant to be honest, encouraging, and respectful in accordance with WDC guidelines.
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