Dear Ms. O’Leary

Dear Ms. O'Leary - WPress1

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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Outside the Lines

Outside the LInes - WPress1

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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Puddle - WPress1

~ an EWK 2:4:6:8:2 ‘Cinquain’ Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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Black Satin

Black Satin - WPress1

~ an EWK 5:7:5 Haiku Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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Falling Star

Falling Star - WPress1

~ an EWK 5:7:5 Haiku Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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Planted - WPress1

~ an EWK ‘Awareness Against Angst’ Essay   ©2017 EWK

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Touching Each Other

Touching Each Other - WPress1

~ an EWK Tanka 5:7:5:7:7 Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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Bonsai - WPress1

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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A Silent Thunder

A Silent Thunder - WPress1

~ an EWK 5:7:5 Haiku Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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In Tangerine Dreams

In Tangerine Dreams - WPress1

~ an EWK 5:7:5 Haiku Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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As Written

As Written - WPress1

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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This Wind

This Wind - WPress1

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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Castle in the Sky

Castle in the Sky - WPress1

My desire for you had to go,
As you dropped me cold as snow.

My passion for you had chilled,
As you locked me out with the walls you build.

My dreams of you shattered all night,
As you catapulted my burning heart into flight.

My hopes of you went up in smoke,
As you insist on digging a deeper moat.

My trust in you had gone in disbelief,
As your next quest proved you do deceive.

My taste for you has certainly soured,
As you chased me up to your lofty towers.

My teardrops wash away the sands,
As you know I’m no longer in your plans.

Rain will fall and tides subside,
As you know by now, this is ‘Goodbye’.

Don’t turn around just to shrug and sigh,
As you know you won’t get another try.

Enough of your selfish lullaby,
Building your castle in the sky.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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It was Good

And he said it was good.

Good enough.

She said.

And she said it was good.

Don’t question her.

Believe it.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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‘CURVATURES’ ~ an Acrostic

The touch of a poet’s vision…
What a poet sees is rather what his eyes feel…
As his words so written; might conceive and reveal.
This acrostic poem has the traditional leading-letter word at each phrase. I have also chosen to loop each second word of each line to use the leading-letter from the previous line’s first letter.

Sequential acrostic patterning of ‘CURVATURES’…
A:V… and so on


©2017 EWK

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Room for Cream

Room for Cream - WPress1

©2017 EWK

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Threshold - WPress1

©2017 EWK

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Castle in the Sky

Castle in the Sky - WPress1

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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Black Coffee

Black Coffee - WPress1

I keep His house
This ain’t My home
I got chores for a life
— turned cold: black coffee sipped alone.

The doors lead to walls
Windows broken glass
Plaster holds scars hid
— of unforgiven’d deepening cracks.

Man of this house
Owns me and it all too
Can’t​ hold down a bottle
— his job: to keep me well kept ’n confused.

Says we’re​ doin’ alright
Lashed his belt here and loosed it next door
I’m done complaining now
— he’s hollowed me out ’oh my Lord.

Crystals and cream go
In next mornings’ brew
Pinch of something different
— shared one last time: coffee for two.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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Carefree Days

Carefree Days - WPress1

sidewalk chalks
moonlit nights
fishing trips
canvas tents
nature hikes
swimming pools
sunburned tans
beach and sands
windblown kites
iced tea sipped
tree house climbs
firefly lights
apple pie
naps on quilts
children play
carefree days

~ an EWK Tricube (x2) Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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This looks like a simple word.
It is extremely complex.
Incredibly dense, heavy gravity.
Cannot be sliced up or taken in portions
or be broken up. It is always whole, or not.

To also consider:
expectation = anticipation … Why?

How does ⬆ this ⬆ formula equate?
It produces a potential of equivalent value when put together. I can think of many ways this relates. For one instance; is ‘expectation’ a value and a force from outside of ourselves, while ‘anticipation’ takes form as a value perceived from within ourselves? So each individual sets a balance of this formula into place from their own perceived intentions. Perhaps?

One simple certain answer to this is; if it does not compute when the moment hits; someone gets ‘hurt’.

Or both get ‘hurt’ as well; as all is expected, with an anticipation, or it is not at all.

What do you think?


~ an EWK Consideration Equation   ©2017 EWK

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‘Before I Knew It’ ~ a poetic letter to a girlfriend I never knew (this is true)

I often wish I was
A more expressive friend, back then
In the days we had,
Ages of some few years
Plus ten.


We had our moments
I know I felt that thrill.
Just to sit with you besides,
Wanting time together
To share so much at will.


I was raised reliably so
Always obeyed to my parent’s strict ways.
Each and every moment had passed,
Self-consumed by my disciplines.
So soon I’d be dismayed.


Before I knew it…

We outgrew our days.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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‘CREATE’ ~ an Acrostic








~ an EWK Acrostic Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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From the Beginning

From the Beginning - WPress1

the day had come
to just believe
the trail of our lives
Led to you with me.

there were signs
along the ways
pointed in directions
As if we were lost.

take another step
is all we could do
as this passage
Has led us in love.

— From the beginning.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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Filled to Brim

Coffee - WPress1

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Traffice Macreme - WPress1

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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Several Sensual Stanzas of Seven Syllables

Whispered Wants - WPress1

whispered wants send out shivers

skins wakened warmth flows within

gasps heaved from a lover’s grasp

musk and dews of passions cusp

climax comes so soon relaxed

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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Without a Doubt

It is not
What you

As a stitch-thin veil.

It is
What you

As a heart-spun tale.


I’d rather be a scribe of subtle
variations of versification.

Than to be a boisterous bard
of flippant incantations.


     – Rather than
             – Out.

                    To be.

                                   – Me.


~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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Fire - WPress1

There’s a fire* inside of me.
Embers of past dreams casting sparks.
Teasing and tempting to ignite each day.
Smoldering deep vapors of combustion.
Dreams erupt as I have seen.
Dreams drift as yet to be.
My dreams burn: white hot scars of intent.



‘Scientific FIRE’ versus ‘Personal FIRE’


* Ingredients needed for a ‘Scientific FIRE’:

(Heat + Fuel + Oxygen) = FIRE


So therefore, my poetic concept becomes:

Could a personal relationship/goal be similar to a Scientific FIRE, yet maybe metaphorically
as such…?

Like this:


* Ingredients needed for a ‘Personal FIRE’:

Heat =
Motivation (internal) + Acceptance (external)

Fuel =
Determination (internal) + Encouragement (external)

Oxygen =
Anticipation (internal) + Stimulation (external)


… Any thoughts? What motivates you?

~ an EWK concept & calculation Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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First Kiss

First Kiss - WPress1

Waiting for creative inspiration to come
is sort of like
being a shy boy
and waiting for your first kiss.
Make eye contact despite your fears
reach out
express your feelings
and don’t worry if it makes you blush.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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Sing it like ‘Satchmo’

Satchmo - WPress1

play my words
     as a jazz tune sways

hear my voice
     in a dulcet jive

dressed so debonair
blow that valved horn
bourbon on ice

wrap my words
     in tight taut chords

flow of thoughts
     in improvised riffs

slap that bass
strike that snare
sing that verse

notes are scored
     from an unprinted page

feel the blues
     along that lonesome street

sweat on brow
     does stain
love’s refrain
     in chains

a tempo raised
     within a thoughtful haze

bring it to the stage
     as emotions ebb and stream

‘dream a little dream’
     in poetic themes.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

Inspired by the soulful songs of the classic jazz musician, Louis ‘Satchmo’ Armstrong. (1901 – 1971)

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It’s a Poet Thing ~ Haiku

It's a Poet Thing - WPress1

~ an EWK photo Haiku   ©2017 EWK

(photos from Pixabay, image enhancements & photo montage’ by Eric W. Killip)

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Found - WPress1

My ears drop wet tears.

— Hearing.

Your words fall from what you say.

— Speaking.

My eyes show dismay.

— Seeing.

Us in such a way. — Love’s decay.

— Seeing.

You go out the door.

— Speaking.

Not another moment more.

— Hearing.

My silence.


~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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Lines of Desire

Lines of Desire - WPress1

ancient Kama Sutra
intuitive Techniques

swooning Hearts
heaving Chests

pliant Earlobe
nuzzled Nape

supple Skins
huddled Hips

languid Lips
teasing Tongue

silken Shoulders
intent Fingers

fantasized Desires
harmonized Pleasures

brassy Buckle
lacy Gown

lavish Fingertips
vellus Hairs

limber Laps
fastened Clasps

musky Sweat
throbbing Pelvis

hidden Hairs
brazen Head

amorous Intentions
climactic Gratifications

fleshy Sack
engorged Shaft

limber Legs
ruddy Nipples

sodden Lips
elated Moans

braided Necklace
tensing Torso

lunging Buttocks
clenching Thighs

beeping Alarm Clock
vivid Dream
— forsaken.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

Poetic structure per stanza of ‘Lines of Desire’:

(verb or adjective) (Noun)
(verb or adjective) (Noun)

~ inspired by a vivid dream ~

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the Peach

the Peach Tricube - WPress1

©2017 EWK

(a Tricube poem is composed of 3 syllables per verse, 3 verses per stanza, and 3 stanzas in total)

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the Poet


the Poet

… does not have a vocalist’s melody;
to carry their legacy, standing alone on a nightclub stage.


… does not have a band of instruments; to strike their soulful innocence, upon a pulsing back-beated harmony.


… does not have a center ring, spotlight’s ellipse bright on a circus show of trapeze swings; under the big top on a warm summer’s night.


… does not have the celebration of skyrockets and bombastic flares; flung upon the sky of all other’s stares, with repercussive intent.


… does not build towers of steel and high spires; materialistic weight splayed in all desires, of windowpane’d reflections.


the Poet… does not see the world in narrowed intent; yet lives in correspondence of a limitless extent,
with a life
of pathways lit by words…

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

(a work-in-progress poem, critiques?)

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This Heart of Mine



The savior of others, I’ve always longed to be; never taking a moment to look at who’s saving me. Helping those who’ve never asked; nor know my soul, this is my heart aching burden.


To jump all in, or turn away?
This heart is broken, this is the way it is. And who cares? I’m not already so certain. What matters most? My mind decides with each new hope and person.

This heart of mine is all I have. Its warmth is felt from thoughts pulsing deep within.

When I gave you a piece of my mind and soul, my heart was so certainly broken. Shards of my love come scattering down cutting deep scars where we each have stepped and spoken.


I’ve caught the pieces of my heart before,
yours is not the first portion to be mistaken.
Shattered bits beat apart as this heart bleeds on. My love is often forsaken.

I’ve been lost, my burden goes on, blood stained dreams close around my heartbroken soul like a Broadway curtain.

An applause I have never asked; none that I shall ever receive. No praise, no not more. Not ever, for me. A new awareness I now perceive.


This lonely life needs none of this as I lift my head to cast away these tears. My burden gone, so goes all my fears. Simply toss my worries aside. To bathe in my cries. Drain me till dry.

I have come now to find. You are the one lost; even to me. I will stand naked, scars and scabs all exposed. Revealing this burden on me you have tossed and bestowed. I have come to discover and now we all know.

Certainly, no more need of your witty criticisms. I am stronger. A new me.


My heart has now spoken, as I have written.


~ an EWK Poe’em

©2017 EWK

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ignition starts
my key turns, a heart.

upright reclining seats
resonant radio, beats.

motor idle whirs
fluids warmed, swirl.

we ride as one
a moonlit, sun.

maneuvering swift curves
our bodies gently, swerve.

we never tire
our palms wet, perspire.

high octane fuel
pistons push, pull.

chromium hubbed wheels
ridged rubber treading, squeals.

exhaled mists dew in condensation
dashboard dials glowing rise, indications.

winding uphill road we climb
windows wide open, unwind.

turns approached with downward shifts
roadway lunging us weightless, dips.

tightened seatbelts hug our lap
crisscrossed tensions snug, relax.

pearly knobbed shift rod climax reaching
top gears now engaged, achieving.

mystical darkness of twilight parted
two hearts race on; in a romance, started.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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‘Skip’ ~ an anticipation alliteration


our lips

our hands

our grip

our hips

our thighs

our hearts

~ an EWK alliteration Poe’em

©2017 EWK

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Poetic Lines


commonly subdued
thoughts with feelings are inscribed
in poetic lines

~ an EWK Haiku Poe’em

©2017 EWK

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wanting.                                    1


needing.                                    2


seeking.                                     3

naughty thoughts
lusty sighs
sweaty thighs

feeling.                                      4

pulse beats increased
fingertips touch
hairs entwined clutch

finding.                                      5

tingling head to toe
wetness drips from crotch
clothing coming off

reaching.                                   4

peaks of climax
entwined embrace
quickening pace

getting.                                      3

nipples stiff
taunting slaps
thrusting laps

sharing.                                     2


having.                                       1


                (syllables/line by stanza  ^  in parabolic pattern)

~ an EWK eroticized Poe’em

©2017 EWK

(inspired by a dream; a very good… dream)

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Sky Blue ~ a Haiku


sky blew from above
hear the whisk of angels wings
Earthly treasure found

~ an EWK Haiku Poe’em  

©2017 EWK

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Residues Unglued


R-E-S-I-D-U-E-S   U-N-G-L-U-E-D



~ an EWK Acrostic Poe’em  

©2017 EWK

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Hard questions with rounded corners…  

is… life a legacy?
is… death a destiny?
is… hope a habit?

is… church a choice?
is… religion a ritual?
is… faith a philosophy?

is… love a language?
is… war a weapon?
is… peace a promise?


Sure is.



//a reference of words:

legacy = anything handed down from the past, as from an ancestor or predecessor.

destiny = the predetermined, usually inevitable or irresistible, course of events.

habit = an acquired behavior pattern regularly followed until it has become almost involuntary.

choice = the act or instance of choosing.

ritual = an established or prescribed procedure for a religious or other rite.

philosophy = the rational investigation of the truths and principles of being, knowledge, or conduct.

language = a body of words and the systems for their use common to a people who are of the same community or nation, the same geographical area, or the same cultural tradition.

weapon = anything used against an opponent, adversary, or victim.

promise = an express assurance on which expectation is to be based.

/ Definitions by 

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My Guitar ~ Electric version


Metallic sheen of my limber cordage laid; tensioned and waiting your embrace, your hand grips and glides as fingertips press. Grasping me at length in just the right place.

Syncopated backbeats restless throb; my body hewn of firmly crafted curves with bright enameled knobs, wanting for you to rock as I want to roll. Pickups amped up and ready to lose control.

Volumes rise.
Intensity heightened.
Speakers tone hum a resounding reverberation.
Pedals mounted and plugged into various sockets.

Melodic tones you choose to instinctively override; your soul gathers the rhythm, as your hands strum and slide. Notes sound and pound our heartbeats pulsed beyond us now in pace and climaxed release.

Electrified cords plugged in and strewn along the floor; fingered chords of harmonic riffs, you play me as a song. So sensually shrill, so intense and so prolonged.

My tunes strummed and drawn out in amplified distortions; plucked passages and flicked frets compress, soaked upon your sweat soaked chest. Our performance defies all tangible proportions.

~ an EWK Poe’em  

©2017 EWK

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My Guitar ~ Acoustic version


Notes in tune as desired upon my strings; tightly bound in lithe response to your touch.

Flexing cords so sinewed and taut; songs uplift as strummed and plucked.

My lacquered body held upon your lap; a resonant source, our tonal emanations.

Fingertips on glistened inlaid frets; your tactile inclinations glide along my neck.

Tempos held to rhythmic beats; your tapping fingers instinctive grip and release.

Harmonic chords blend as climactic notes splay; improvised refrains of the passionate duets we have played.

~ an EWK Poe’em  

©2017 EWK

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PASSION by day & by night…


‘PASSION by day & by night…’
by Day…

Nonconformative necessities


by Night…

Nakedly nurtured needs

~ an EWK Acrostic Poe’em

©2017 EWK

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Morning ~ a Haiku


it’s morning again
sunrise comes but once a day
following the night

~ an EWK 5:7:5 Haiku Poe’em  

©2017 EWK

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The Right Stuff


So much thrust at twilight excites us.
The Right Stuff pushed upright ignites lust.

~ an EWK Tyburn Poe’em

©2017 EWK

(A Tyburn poem contains six verses of a 2:2:2:2:9:9 syllabic pattern. The first four lines rhyme and are descriptive words. The last two verses rhyme and incorporate the words paired of the first four lines as the 5th through 8th syllables.)

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©2017 EWK

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Geometric Growth ~ Haiku


~ an EWK Haiku Poe’em  

©2017 EWK

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Bound – Haiku


reeds between the twine
hayed stacks baled high in a barn
bound for Winter’s needs

~ an EWK 5:7:5 Haiku Poe’em  

©2017 EWK

(photo taken by me, on a scenic drive in the countryside)

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Time to Feed the Traps ~ Haiku


~ an EWK Haiku Poe’em  

©2017 EWK

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Harvest of Divorce ~ Haiku


~ an EWK 5:7:5 Haiku Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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an Inoculation of Alphabetization Fantasization



Roll up your sleeve, a fantasy.

Kinky situation
Orgasmic celebration
Quiet meditation
Whispered admiration
as the termination of this alliteration.

[in • knock • you • lay’tion] n.
:to permeate (a person), as with ideas.

[al • fuh • bi • tie • say’tion] v.
:to arrange in alphabetical order.

[phan • tuh • sigh • say’tion] v.
:to create in one’s daydreams.

~ an EWK alliteration Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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love imbued


skin dewed
ruddy hues
sultry mood
love imbued

lips hot
passions sought
limbs taut
naughty thoughts

looks glisten
kisses given
nipples stiffen
bodies pivot

feelings shared
fantasies bared
loving care
heartbeats paired


~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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Just Looking ~ Haiku


©2017 EWK

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To the Point ~ Haiku


A new Photo Haiku poem.

(a work-in-progress)

The context here is intentionally heavy with ‘fusoku-furi’, or Japanese essense of metaphoric distancing; #1✔ …And syllabic structure of and respective of 5:7:5 phrasing (as in English); #2✔ …And there is a symbolic tension and tease to seasonality here; #3✔

So with the 3 of 3 Haiku values met, the moral of these 3 lines is: The contemplations of a writer or poet. Pencils as arrows, “getting to the point” introducing and stating the requirement of an archer of arrows (or as the writer equipped with pencils) must have their own tools ready when the moment comes; sharpened points. And furthermore; to actually take action, with much purpose. A line that is strung denotes the line of a strung hunting bow, a “bowstring”. Very necessary, full of tension and potential energy to have the arrow effectively take flight.

This second line of the Haiku similarly uses this context again to relate the tensions found by the writer to pull the energy into each line they must draw upon to have each “line” with the intentions they determine. If you see here at the first word of this second verse, it is also intentionally spelled as a personified “line’s”, to indicate the aspect of the person owning the need to use this force, using the inherent tensions it requires. And, to keep doing it, several times as each time is required.

Lastly, the final line in this Haiku defines a not particularly absolute solution to this context. It takes a priority to the “first” and also the “last” of this. So, that may be of two issues, yet also of just having one, the only. Imagine if you were the archer. You have, or are left with just one arrow to make your mark. You choose with even more considerable tension and consideration. The deer very much will run away from your one try if you hesitate, miss or not get the point to hit where required. As does a writer and poet considers their tool; the pencil, and is perhaps shown as these two as in the photo (both sharpened) one black, the other white… Yet, irrelevant in reality, it is the point that does draw on the experience and expression of each line to make the mark required. White of first starts and begins, black at last finishes, and ends. The choice made. It only takes one to get either done.

If you don’t draw back on your skills and let it strike a line of its own, no action nor effect of effort will ever be known.

~ Eric

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My Generation


my generation
varying shades of ages
autumn of our lives

~ an EWK 5:7:5 Haiku Poe’em  

©2017 EWK

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Nest Egg


Nest egg has been cracked
Holiday bills migration
Bank balance heads South.

~ an EWK 5:7:5 Haiku Poe’em

©2017 EWK

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Words that Cry


Words that cry for me
Tear stained in poetic verse
The rhymes of my life.

~ an EWK 5:7:5 Haiku Poe’em

©2017 EWK

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Waxing Poetic


waxing poetic
feelings softened as written
hard emotions drip

~ an EWK 5:7:5 Haiku Poe’em

©2017 EWK

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Discover her Story


She was like a book
Held deep within
Antiqued parchments
Inks impressed
Illuminated scripts.

Stories authored
And finely bound
With gilded accents
Embossed with filigrees
Dignified exquisiteness.

So subtlety
Self published
By her own discretion
Chapters enumerated
Appended in manuscript.

Her pages
With drama and mysteries
Shaded in solemn forbearance
Always and ever foreshadowed
In a definitive romance.

To have her now held
Is to behold a woman
Of ardent design
To have this chance to
Discover her story…

Is to love her,
— so sublime.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2017 EWK

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Turn the Page


Tick tock.
Time to check off another box.
Turn the page on another year gone.
It won’t be 2016 forever and even for long.

Welcome the New Year and ring it along.
Join along and sing your song.
Our future hopes enlighten.
Along our new horizons.

Flip the page on a brand new year.
Filled with desires and lessened fears.
So now is the passing of December.
I wish you a new year of joys and splendor!

~ Eric

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If I must Die


If I must die
With my final verse
In hand

Then let it be
A seed
Of inspiration

To other minds
Of youthful vigor
Whom might read

Of my life
And energies

For if I be known
Another day

I wish my fertile mind
To nurture the desires
Of poems not yet sown

Yearning to germinate
From the ground
I once found

My body
Fed upon

By the years
And flowing tears

The fields
I once trod
My dead poets’

Lived once
Now sod

– The end.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(my final verse of this year?)

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Royal Flush


on the throne
down the drain
clear the pipes
royal flush

~ an EWK Poo’em   ©2016 EWK

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Uphill Climb


Yes, you might risk dying, trying to;
Not climbing gets sighing, crying blues.

~ an EWK Tyburn Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(A Tyburn poem contains six verses of a 2:2:2:2:9:9 syllabic pattern. The first four lines rhyme and are descriptive words. The last two verses rhyme and incorporate the words paired of the first four lines as the 5th through 8th syllables.)

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Kissing cures our restless, breathless ways
Embracing our reckless fetish craze.

~ an EWK Tyburn Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(A Tyburn poem contains six verses of a 2:2:2:2:9:9 syllabic pattern. The first four lines rhyme and are descriptive words. The last two verses rhyme and incorporate the words paired of the first four lines as the 5th through 8th syllables.)

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’empathy’ ~ (words alone cannot describe…)

Far away?
Not so much.
Could be US.
No answer?
No question,
No reason.
Life changing.
Hear their pleas!
How do we?


~ an EWK Tricube (×2)+1 Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(a Tricube is a poem of contemporary style & composed of 3 syllables per verse, 3 verses per stanza, and 3 stanzas in total)

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A Crisscrossed Crush


He wished she could feel his crush
within his eyes.

She wished he could feel her crush
within her thighs.

Each wished the other could feel their crush within their sighs.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Kawasaki Kringle


Could a crimson caped & capped Kris Kringle carry considerable Christmas curiosities as he can while casually commandeering a chromed, classic ‘Kawasaki’ cruising cross-country to considerable consecutive criss crossings to console continentally covetous kids?

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2014 EWK

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Sad Santa Seized


Sad Santa seized since sleigh riding so soon since sipping cinnamon Schnapps.

Several serious certificates signed as so surely a shame since he was sighted sleighing so shifty & so speedily.

Sheriff Steven Sirocco secures silver shackles so suspected Santa stays soberly sequestered & seated in his solitary cell in the slammer so sobriety is surely sought.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2014 EWK

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Santa’s Swimsuit Sweethearts


Santa shown swiftly streaking shallow shorelines in soaked skivvies.

Stylishly slender swim-suited sweethearts seen sharing his stride surely starts his smile; so certainly stashed inside his silvery ‘stache.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2014 EWK

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Some Days


Some days are like an episode of ‘Jeopardy!’
With the volume played in muted silence.
All answers read on a blue screen.
Never a certain question heard,
just the often occasional
and questionable
static spoken
from within
your mind.
As if Alex

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by a game show)

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Held in a Clamp


Held in a clamp.
Body and brain quiet screaming ramps.
Migraine headache’s consuming hurt.
So much so that I just can’t stand.
This sort of pain is nature’s curse.

My mind becomes a radar screen.
Spinning strobe as the weather careens.
Surrounding silence around so golden.
A dark room cascades in visual sparks.
While this happens my moments are stolen.

Hot and cold with nausea aches.
Wishing the storm within would abate.
Always determined to push past defeat.
A pause of patience just to get another chance.
Another day comes to find some relief.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(inspired by a migraine headache)

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A Chill in the Air


A chill in the air at night does sting,
rain from above on a tin roof pings.

Flickering flames cast a shadowed eclipse,
candle waxes molten flows hot and drips.

Bellowing swift wind from outside blows,
smoky warmth of fireplace embers glow.

Old dog lays down in slumber and snores,
porch light sways and shines beyond the door.

Pot of hot stew on the stove top bubbles,
love is kept warm with our intimate snuggles.

~ an EWK Poe’em ©2016 EWK
(inspired by a winter night)

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A Moment too Late


when I first met you

my eyes looked into your heart,

a moment too late

~ an EWK Haiku Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
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Keep a stiff

times get
to be hard

you need to
dive in

on tight
in the night

you’re all

for it all

and out
all around

the bases

home run
every time


can do

go for what

~ an EWK (3:2:1) Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

Triple-lined stanzas with a descending & ascending (3:2:1) syllabic pattern.

Inspired by passion:
(Passion does not have a singular meaning, it must contain a duality of existence; its greatness occurs when these two senses merge.)



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We’re an enigma.
Passions change as seasons do.
Hot sweat drips from ice.
Emotions buried so deep;
smothering our heart’s desire.

~ an EWK Tanka Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by restless desires)

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Slightly Sway


Hold me tight.
Subtle moans,
throbbing tones.
Clasp your body to mine;
as we slip into the night.

Feel the pulsing beat.
From the dance floor,
to the bed boards.
As we slightly sway;
dance with me between the sheets.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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A Taste of Honey


a taste of honey
sweetened glaze of desire
tongue tip teasing lips

pearled grace enfolds
glistened dew of loveliness
fount of love’s rewards

~ an EWK Haiku (×2) Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(inspired by a 1963 song by ‘The Beatles’)

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Happy Thanksgiving!

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Shadows of My Life


I have written my thoughts.
      Often as a feeling
      Inspired by the urge of subtle meanings
To give life to words.
After living and then soon afterwards.
      Will you sort through
      Stuff that holds certain value
The day I die?
Will you cry?
      Over thoughts and things
      Found there for you that bring
Emotion fringed with tenderness.
Time’s now gone of our togetherness.
      Loved was the life we led
      Discovered by us before we were wed
So many memories to comprehend.
Filled with assorted odds and ends.
      Junk drawers to suppose
      Assorted keepsakes all disclosed
Opened up in all sorts of fashions.
Rhyming of verse was once my passion.
      As I wrote these words upon my heart
      To this end I now impart
So my poems might speak as my eulogy.
I loved and lived with such integrity.
      A quiet man; I was, now forever more.
      Preach it once like Poe, then nevermore.
My words at my graveside; so ever solemn.

Shadows of my life… in worded columns.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(inspired by a funeral)

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A Stable Table


You sat there
As I sit on my chair
A setting just so for two
Served for us to dine so debonair.

The ambiance I find detracts
From this canted sway I counteract
Jostling of such formalities
Startling my senses as I react.

This place is set
Upon social etiquettes
An elbow upsets and dips
Tilting the hems of your linen dress.

Spilling of my wine
Once more this time
It’s the little ways
You are so inclined.

I’m seeking some stability
I must call the Maitre d’
You can’t keep me quiet,
“A stable table.” — “Please.”

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by a wobbly dining table)

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Road tripping sunsets
Tree lined streets staccato played
Shade : Sun : Shade : Sun : Shade
Evening comes as headlights due
Night arrives, I’m homeward bound.

~ an EWK Tanka Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by a road trip)

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Yo. Read some Poe.


Yo. Read some Poe.
Does anyone really read Poetry anymore?

We amp-up all info-rushed in blinking blurs of tapping texts of obscured austerities upon our digitized screens.

What of the classics, the poets of all-time?
Whose stage-showed verbiage taught the huddled populace to sight-read as a rhyme. When candlelit nights were all shadowed within mystically dramatized notions of commonplace wants and worries of calamity?

So what of reading Poetics in the days of Poe or Shakespeare with their soliloquizing ways? Once upon a time… was trending then. “Yo. Dat.”

Can we truly read between the lines of such legacies from good fellows, so long since; dead? What matters how now, what is; read? Parchment and pen once; bled…

Within these present days infused with instant messaging and a text-typed life blinked at a hip-hop techno tempo, what verse would ever catch our eye? Choose a font, use u for you, or smack an emoji for dramatic “emphasis of persona”. Perhaps?

Hmm?    😎

Work-in-progress. this.



~ an EWK “Go with the Flow” Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Spooky Spirits


Spooky spirits sweep several sooty stains of souls sent spiraling skyward since suddenly succumbing to silently suffocating subconscious séances.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2014 EWK
(inspired by a Halloween night)

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Emotion Contained


Just suppose we were to ask a sculptor; “what the clay knows”?, or ask a musician; “what the notes know”?, or the painter; “what the brush knows”?

The tools of the artist; yield to a part of the work, in the act of creation.

Is poetry a creation of art?
As if the forms of words and verse were a “sculpture of words”, a “melody of assonance”, or a “vision of figurative nuances”?

Are words the poets’ media; the tools of this creation?

Is the finalized verse the essence of expression; of and from the experience?

What then, is a “poem”?
As a sculpture on a stand, a song on a stage, a masterpiece of painting bounded within a frame?

Or a fleeting emotion, contained.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by a question)

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Hot Rod


Caution: slippery when wet.
Curves come on a wet night: ride. 
Shifting: gear shaft: fast.
Dare not follow a map: gasp.
Lean in and feel the grip: slip.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK


“It’s the shapes of the curves that matter, and not their origins…”

~ Kurt Vonnegut; author
from, ‘The Universal Shapes of Stories’


“I didn’t discover curves… I only uncovered them.”

~ Mae West; actress

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Calmed this Night


Daughter of the Dreamworld.
Mother of the Earth,
Sister of the moonlit sky.

Clouded airs above us
Ever changing silhouette.
Peaceful times and comforts.

Calmed this night at rest.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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this wind


this wind,

mills to
paddle and spin 
weather or not
in vane.

we feel the blows
turned perpetually
to its force
of nature,


gears winding
through years,

this wind.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK
(inspired by a breeze)

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We are Electric Addicts by Nature


The power went out as the storm came in
Stumbling in rooms so suddenly opaque
Uninvited nighttime enters within
Reaching blindly, attempting to locate
A candle lit or flashlight would abate.

Feeling this becalming intensified
Shun the days of old that has come inside
Life now needs lists of emergency preps.
Electric addicts we are, yet deny
Modern conveniences need an outlet.

~ an EWK ‘Dizain’ Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

/// Poetic structure & history:
A ‘Dizain’ is a poem containing 10 lines, with each line having exactly 10 syllables each. Each line must end with an end-rhyme pattern of ‘ABABBCCDCD’. The ‘Dizain’ poem style was first introduced into form by French poets of the 15th and 16th centuries. Written in “Français” Renaissance dialect, of course.

// Reference of my inspiration:
I feel I could certainly write more verse and expressions within this spontaneous inspiration I had regarding the concept of experiencing a power outage in a storm. The challenge to compose an modern consequence into an old-world ‘Dizain’ served as my initial inspiration. Since this is my first attempt at such an old structure of verse; I have respectfully contained my imagination, this time!

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Breathe Words


I breathe words.
To read is to inhale.
To write is to exhale.
Gone are the days,
of holding my breath.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Wanting This


Wanting of
her wishful,
teased-tough love.

Whispered kiss
taunted with,
her pout lips.

Hushed breathing
tempos rise,
hearts beating.

Finding bliss
two as one,
wanting this.

Clips unclasped
firmly held,
in your grasp.

Clothing strips
desired wants,
passion drips.

Glistened skins
are impressed,
deep within.

Tensed tongue licks
lapping up,
gnarled tips.

Gasping sighs
teardrops fall,
hazeled eyes.

Tightened grip
fingertips clench,
grinding hips.

Wanting this.

~ an EWK Tricubic (×3+1/2) Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by, the feeling)

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New Shoes


A boy’s new shoes
a pair,
So few.

What a blessing of care
how good,
So rare.

He kept his prayers just as he should
so long,
He would.

Old shoes tired as he played along
wartime stories,
Ragtime in songs.

His heart dreams of the Yankees glories
the Babe at bat,
No more worries.

News reports of continued combat
father’s goodbye,
Wanting him back.

Laces untied
big shoes to fill,
Daddy has died.

Remember him still.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

/ Reference of my inspiration for ‘New Shoes’:
This photo (by Gerald Waller) first appeared in LIFE Magazine on December 30, 1946. It features a six-year-old boy in the moment he had received a new pair of shoes at a post-war orphanage; as donated to him by the Junior Red Cross of America.

// Poetic structure of ‘New Shoes’:

4 syllables : Rhyme ‘A’
2 syllables : Rhyme ‘B’
2 syllables : Rhyme ‘A’

6 syllables : Rhyme ‘B’
2 syllables : Rhyme ‘C’
2 syllables : Rhyme ‘B’

8 syllables : Rhyme ‘C’
2 syllables : Rhyme ‘D’
2 syllables : Rhyme ‘C’

9 syllables : Rhyme ‘D’
4 syllables : Rhyme ‘E’
4 syllables : Rhyme ‘D’

9 syllables : Rhyme ‘E’
4 syllables : Rhyme ‘F’
4 syllables : Rhyme ‘E’

9 syllables : Rhyme ‘F’
4 syllables : Rhyme ‘G’
4 syllables : Rhyme ‘F’

4 syllables : Rhyme ‘G
4 syllables : Rhyme ‘H’
4 syllables : Rhyme ‘G’

5 syllables : Rhyme ‘H’


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End of Summer

Written by me just a year ago; at the end of Summer. As the approach of my favorite season of Autumn occurs it reminds me of the many sensations this time of year creates in our memories. Please enjoy! ~ Eric

Crumbs of Expression

Laying on my back-side at the knoll of a grassy hilltop. The sunlight streams at lowly shadowing angles from just above my ever-so-old, slate roofed, clapboard homestead farmhouse that sits along the timber-railed fence. This fence was built by my father with me. This fence runs between the long dirt driveway and the shallow stream where the many clusters of wildflowers of the surrounding fields have come to grow.

Firm and fertile northeastern soils are speckled with clumps of granite stone, speckled with glints of mica as the sunlight teases crevices of each to express dazzling multicolored hues as though the entire night’s sky Apple Orchardshown stars within the face of each and every rock. So many other stones as these will remain buried to sleep quietly below moss and brush. This land has not been plowed as so many rugged Yankee farms may have been. This land my family has…

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E Pluribus Unum



Cover ups.
Choices tough.

Reds or Blues?
Donkeys too?

Harsh insults.
Campaign stops.
Poll results.

In debates.

Hang on tight.
Voter’s rights.
All uptight.


Whom ever…

New Limo.
China plates.

E pluri-
Bus unum.
… History.

~ an EWK Tricubic (×3)+1 Poe’em    ©2016 EWK

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Solemn Autumn


Crisp, crushed, chaotic leaves,

My steps taken,

My feet; the mortar’s pestle,

Kaleidoscope of abstract art,

Nature’s unframed canvas; so infinite,

~ an EWK ‘work-in-progress’ Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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Inside Out


I wear my shirts inside out.
My pants; I often do too.
Seams all exposed as sewn,
And those scratchy little labels;
All on the outside, shown.

It’s a habit of my expression
I often wear my clothes outside in.
Global destinations are tailor-made to my indiscretions.
To have my buttons held within,
Makes a wholesome fashion statement.

All I can say,
If you see me today,
My ties come from ‘Tahiti’, and
My shirt says, ‘Made in the Philippines’.

— As sewn on the seams, so it seems.

~ an EWK Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

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A Leftover Limerick


I dreamed of sailing in a regatta 
In an ocean of cheesy ricotta
It was not as you’d think
I didn’t sleep a wink
Up at night with a plate of lasagna.

~ an EWK Limerick Poe’em   ©2016 EWK

(inspired by a late-night leftoever lasagna)

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