Author: Leonas Lines

A born and raised Midwesterner who traveled to Oregon in 2006 via the Oregon Trail route, fell in love with Oregon and now call it home. I am retired and pursuing my life long dream of becoming a Freelance Inspirational Writer.
Posted in Acrostic, May 2018

Jellies

Posted on by Leonas Lines

Jellyfish

Jellies

Elegant

Layered creatures

Lacking lungs, brain, blood and heart

Yet living, free floating

Fascinating

Intriguing

Sea dwellers with

Harpoon-like tentacles

Acrostic

Posted in May 2018, Rhyme

Sense or Nonsense?

Posted on by Leonas Lines

I see the look of the musician,

I think he’s angry at the omission.

He finds it hard to comprehend

Overshadowing the note’s loose end

Causing a chirping like a flamingo

Creating a strange and quirky lingo.

Spoken badly by the blues singer,

Please don’t let this composition linger

Music and song need thought and time

Senses suffer in nonsense rhyme

Rhyme

( I found an online Poem Generator that I decided to try out today.  It had me type in nouns, verbs, adjectives, etc and then it generates what is supposed to be a poem! 🙂  haha.  However, I took what seemed to me to be complete nonsense and rewrote it to at least, perhaps, have some meaning. 🙂
Any thoughts?   What do you think?  Does it make any sense or is it just nonsense?

Posted in May 2018, Prose

Poetic Ramblings

Posted on by Leonas Lines

Wind, water, plants

Poetry or Prose? Only the scholar knows what label thoughts on paper take or whether lines run together or break, the rules. Do I write to please a scholar, or to empty my head of floating syllables that wake me in the night? My answer is that I must ignor the scholar’s frown as I write down those words, thoughts, feelings in my head, waiting to be said, before they fly away to the land of dread, where they are doomed to fade away beneath piles of broken dreams and things unspoken, left to lie and die in the dust of lost opportunity and missed chance. Form can be a friend, I treasure it to no end, but there are times when thoughts run free and words won’t bend to fit in a syllabic line. So, prose then, can be my friend, as I randomly write into the night, words running ahead the thoughts in my head, tempting my fingers to tap the keys and create a space for them to live on paper.

Prose?