at the “high table”

Lune #15 of 25

Women Leaning on a Railingby Edgar Degas–Circa 1890

at the “high table”
they rejoice–
now, the witch is dead.


*A lune (rhymes with moon) is a very short poem. It has only three lines. It is similar to a haiku. A haiku has three lines, and it follows a 5/7/5 syllable pattern. The lune’s syllable pattern is 5/3/5. Since the middle line is limited to three syllables, it is often the shortest line of the three. This makes a lune curve a bit like a crescent moon.

For the next twenty-five days, except Saturdays and Sundays, I will share a lune with each of you. This is Lune #15 of this project.

Featured Writer for April

Young Minds of Medium Writer Braden Turner

Every once in a while, I come across a young Writer who surpasses what I expect from that young one–Braden is exactly that type of Writer. He does not back down from a challenge and can flip micropoetry into long form and back to micropoetry without missing a bit. He is this month’s feature. Braden is in his last year at the University of Georgia and was just recently accepted to complete his Master’s as well. He is one of my favorite Writers to collaborate with and each time our minds meet, we make something so very special.

There will be two of his works published here today; one, a 5-word response to the topic of “Rejection” and the other is a superb poem that highlights the torment of humanity, the possible fall of love, and the gods who rule the world, but still let it crumble among its men.

People, please encourage his heart:


a manuscript titled: victory

Rejection Challenge

Photo by Ranit Chakraborty on Unsplash

You were merely
the prologue.


a manuscript titled: victory was originally published via A Cornered Gurl on Medium.


of gods and men

Photo by sergio souza on Unsplash

humans turn their
worlds
belly-up, barbed branches
tearing apart their
seams.

watch them fight a war now,
play-things
enamored with the indefinite —
losing their minds over
elusive and tormenting
humanities
because they once had a taste
of such heavenly ambrosia.

watch from the skyline,
eagle-eyed
overhead with underhanded
magic,
 lancets slice through
pseudo-divine blood pacts.
wonder the questions, wander
for answers —

why do they eat up the inevitable?
piece apart timelines, time
zones separate then and now
isolation is human nature.
with a flicking wrist
we could decimate
anything, anyone
would cower at the thought.
but in their ignorance exists
unfeigned fortitude,
solidified
by their thirst for ungodly
indeterminate joys.


of gods and men was originally published via A Cornered Gurl on Medium.