When the day is like the night
We stumble in the dark
When the day is like the night
We lose that joyous spark
When the night is like the day
Our lives are turned around
When the night is like the day
Sleep’s turned upside down
When day is night
We lose the light
Feel fear and fright
When day is night
When night is day
Sleep is play
Work without pay
Forget to pray
When night is day

This is a poem using the device of Anaphora - a figure of repetition occurs when the first word/phrase/sentence/clause is repeated at the beginning of successive sentences/phrases/sentences/clauses...

We are living in topsy-turvy times. I was talking with a friend and she mentioned that her long standing association with a resale consignment shop had ended. They had suddenly changed their policy without warning or consent. In effect she was not told about the change and when she went to retrieve her unsold items she discovered that they were no longer hers to repossess! After some discussion with the sales clerk the store manager was summoned. Again discussion ensued and finally they returned her clothes. She informed them that she would not be returning. There have been other events - my phone service provider decided to switch me to online billing. This is not my preference but I was unaware of the change since they had sent the notice to a defunct (well, it is still there but I have NEVER used it) email account. I believe it was one they insisted I have on gmail... Needless to say when they sent a message to my phone indicating my service would be terminated in 48 hours if I didn't pay I was not only shocked and surprised but highly agitated! Seems more and more companies are trying to get us to give up our voice in how we are billed, communicated with, and how we are to pay. I was told by one utility that if I didn't want automatic billing (where I give them access to my bank account) I would be charged an extra fee for bill processing!! I may not be able to get paper checks soon, not that it matters, since so many places accept credit or debit cards only. Pretty soon actual cash money may be difficult to use....

Chaos
Confused tumultuous
Rioting rampage rumble
Disorder disturbance truce harmony
Mitigate calm mollify
Tranquil harmonious
Peace

This is a Diamante - a seven line poem with a single word in the first and last lines which contrast with each other. The 2nd line is 2 adjectives that describe the 1st line. The 3rd line is 3 verbs that are related to the 1st line. the 4th line contains 4 nouns where the first 2 describe the first line and the second 2 describe the last line. the 5th line is 3 verbs related to that last line and the 6th line is 2 adjectives describing the last line. So this is not a difficult form unless you slept through HS English class and don't know your nouns from your verbs...

I'm attempting to get my "zen" on. I am praying and doing stress relieving exercises. I have been besieged with requests to "fix" problems that are either not able to be fixed in this dimension, not really a problem, or a problem above my pay grade... I've been doing a lot of smiling and nodding. I provided chocolate and kleenex. And now I'm trying to transition from anxious to calm...

I once was riding a horse
The saddle was hard of course
I bumped along
Humming a song
And was bucked off into the gorse

As promised here is a familiar type of cinquain, the Limerick. As per the usual content of a limerick this is frivolous. Most limericks tend to silly or in many cases raunchy in theme. The limerick is composed of a rhyme scheme of a-a-b-b-a where lines 1,2,5 have 3 stressed syllables and lines 3 and 4 have 2 stressed syllables.

This poem sums up my equestrian experiences. I have been on horses exactly 5 times and none of them has been enjoyable for either me or the horse. There was Tarzan, a pony, who tried to knock me out of the saddle by running into the barn which was really just a shed. Then there was Sputnik who was a riding stable horse (barely - probably a pinkie finger taller than a pony) who decided that going back to the stable was more desirable than a trot through the woods. He made a beeline to the stable at his top speed and decided to do a little dance on the way. I held on but nearly severed my tongue when I landed back in the saddle. My friend was riding a big bay horse and suggested we switch. He was very antsy and decided to try to dislodge me by dislocating my hips going between some trees and when that didn't work he reared and nearly went over backwards - not fun. When I was in vet tech school I had an experience with a pretty palomino. The vet wanted to see his "action" when ridden. Because I was the lightest weight live body available I was hoisted into the saddle. No sooner did my backside make contact with the leather, the horse (a real live tall muscular beast with a bad attitude) bolted. The vet student was not expecting it and the lead was jerked from his hands. I was only saved (no reins, no feet in stirrups) by the fact that they got the doors closed before the horse made it to the end of the causeway. And my last ride on a horse (that wasn't tethered to a carousel) was Star, owned by another friend. I had gone to visit her for her wedding (as a bride's maid) and while the guys went out carousing the girls took turns riding her horse, Star. Being as I was the last to get a ride I'm pretty sure Star was tired of the whole business. That is my rationalization for why he decided to canter and them gallop after he had walked and maybe did a little trotting for the other 4 riders. With my teeth rattled and my spine compressed he finally wore himself out. My friend complimented me on being able to keep him in the yard since when he gets "frisky" he likes to take off down the street! It was at that point that I swore off riding horses. It has been at least 36 years since I was last horseback riding - it is no longer on my bucket list...

Friendship
Devolving love
Degrades to apathy
Moves from dislike to true hatred
Malice

This is a Crapsey Cinquain which is not about iambic pentameter or rhyme schemes. Instead it is a syllabic form in which there are a specific number of syllables in each line (2-4-6-8-2). This poem is similar to the diamante form which is on the horizon (possibly by Friday) in which the first line is in contrast to the last.

As I mentioned previously there is a reorganization taking place in my department. That said there have been quite a few people having anxiety attacks over perceived threats. The emotional ups and downs have been more than my psyche can handle. My credo to "never pay to be tortured" has been put to the test in that I want to get off this roller coaster. Still I am strapped in and hanging on since there is no way to put the brakes on this ride.

A pie they chant is what they want to eat
A crust is made and laid in dish so deep
The fruit is mixed with spice and sugar sweet
The crust is crimped the fruit to hold and keep
Keep vigil by the oven take a seat

This is the last of the cinquians - a Sicilian version written in iambic pentameter with a rhyme scheme of a-b-a-b-a. I really don't like the metered verses - well, to write anyway.

As is the custom we had pie for dessert at Easter. We are pie people. There are folks who spend way too much time baking cakes and decorating them to look like lambs and Easter bunnies. They slather them with icing and pat on colored coconut shavings or worse cover them in fondant icing and make them look like dioramas of Easter egg hunts. I find those cakes to be inedible. The icing and decorations are too sweet. The food dye and colorants they use have a particularly nasty taste. We will pass up the cake and vote for pie every time! So the pies this year were a pineapple mango pie, a sweet potato pie, and a lemon macaroon pie. All were very delicious and all of them were pretty much consumed.

This is the pineapple mango pie. I decided that since I couldn't find any rhubarb I'd have to improvise. My secret ingredient? Cardamom - just a scant 1/4th teaspoon was enough to give it a little something exotic. It is now only a memory. Because the pie had a lot of moisture I took a before photo thinking it might bubble over and obscure the design on the top. I got lucky as you can see in the second photo!

Resurrection
Sacrificial loving
Redemption promise fulfilled
My Lord and Savior
Easter

The above poem is a Didactic Cinquain. This form is not about syllable count, stressed syllables or meter. Instead it is about word count. The first line has a single word to indicate the title and the subject of the poem. The second line contains 2 words that are adjectives to describe the 1st line. This is followed by the 3rd line containing a 3 word phrase that give insight or information on the subject. The 4th line is 4 words describing the feelings on the subject followed by the last line consisting of a single word which is a synonym or other reference for the subject. Yeah, kind of a lot of rules but still easier than iambic pentameter!

Today is the first day after Easter. We are basking in the joy of Easter Sunday and still recovering from the feasting. There was food in abundance. There was gathered family. There were games and laughter and everyone had a great time. My 9 pound ham was devoured. I think there is probably enough for a couple sandwiches and the bone will become part of some bean soup. I think that by Wednesday there won't be any leftovers in the refrigerator. I suppose that is a good thing...

I have been seeing the Dunning-Kruger Effect up close for many years. I may have been guilty of the inverse. But I'm getting ahead of myself. First the poem and then the explanation.

She doesn’t have a clue
But her confidence is soaring
Not aware her fact’s untrue
Unshaken wisdom pouring
Ignorance she’s roaring

This is an English Cinquain. I like the English, very sensible people. Their version is composed of 5 lines with a rhyme scheme of a-b-a-b-b. There is no meter requirement.

The Dunning-Krueger Effect is defined as a cognitive bias in which unskilled individuals suffer from illusory superiority, mistakenly rating their ability much higher than is accurate. This bias is attributed to a metacognitive inability to recognize their [own] ineptitude. What that means for me is that the less someone knows the more confident they are believing that they have mastered the skill. The basic premise is that the stupid are too stupid to recognize that they are stupid. And that's all I'm going to say about that.

There is a corollary: high-ability individuals may underestimate their relative competence and may erroneously assume that tasks which are easy for them are also easy for others. I have to fight against this all the time. And that's all I'm going to say.

Bittersweet is the last release
When suffering stops and breath does cease
Divine embrace we rush to find
Perfected joy and peace of mind
Carried to God our prayers increase

Today is Good Friday. For many it is nothing more than the start of the spring sales quarter and possibly a day off work. For the Christian community it is a day of sorrow and feeling the weight and gravity of Jesus' sacrifice to bring us eternal salvation. I'm sure there are plenty of people who do not agree with my characterization of this day - and even more who do not identify with Christianity. I am not expecting your approval or agreement. I do however require your respect of my beliefs. I'm going to invoke "Thumper's Rule" which is "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all."

The above is a Quintella. A Spanish form of cinquain (poem or stanza of 5 lines). It can have a variety of rhyme schemes as long as there are no more than 2 consecutive rhymed lines and it is written in iambic tetrameter (blech squared). I have embarked on the cinquain boat which has 6 different (recognized) forms which I will explore in the coming week. I always thought that I disliked the sestina but I'm rethinking that in light of iambic pentameter/iambic tetrameter etc...

On love many wise have written
Still we stumble in the darkness
In confusion a lost kitten
On love so many wise have written
Men and women hurt and smitten
Sweet wounds of love’s arrow sharpness
On love so many wise have written
Still we stumble in the darkness

This is a Triolet. This form of poetry was popular in 13th century medieval France. It is composed of 8 lines in iambic tetrameter (blech). The rhyme scheme is ABaAabAB where the 1st, 4th, and 7th lines are identical and the 2nd and 8th lines are identical. So there are lots of rules and the poet must labor under some pretty severe restrictions to get their point across. Since this is kind of a rare form there aren't too many examples. However it is known to have been a favorite of women poets and thus you can imagine the main topic seems to be love. Even the poems that survived and have been recorded have made love their topic. Go figure. Anyway as a penance I wrote this in iambic tetrameter. I will strive to avoid sin and thus this form of poetry. Since it is a penance for me it becomes (I'm pretty sure) a penance for you to have to read this...

Solemn holy week is here
Frivolities repress
Pray our sins redress
Death’s visit no longer fear

Christ died for us upon the cross
Sins confess
Release heart’s distress
Eternal life is not a loss

Of the sacrificial lamb take note
Willingly he died
Tears of blood he cried
Of him prophecy wrote

The tomb could not hold
Truth couldn’t be denied
His body was not inside
Salvation we behold

This is an envelope rhyme where there is a 4 line stanza and the 1st and 4th lines rhyme with a rhyming couplet sandwiched between. It does not have a limit to the number of stanzas except it should be more than one...

Today is the last day before we start the Easter Triduum or three days that start the evening of Holy Thursday and continue to the evening of Easter Sunday. This week we are asked to remember the spotless victim, the life and death of the Messiah that had to happen to ensure our salvation and the promised eternal life. There are Christmas Christians and Easter Christians. I count myself as an Easter Christian. The birth of the Christ is wonderful and joyous and miraculous. Yet it isn't his birth that secures our salvation but his death and resurrection. As an Easter Christian I follow the path to the Crucifixion, mingle my tears with those at the foot of the cross, enter the tomb, and then rejoice when the angel announces that he has risen! All the promises are kept and I can truly celebrate. Christmas celebration pales in comparison to the Easter rejoicing... but right now I'm considering this difficult journey and putting one foot in front of the other.