INTERVIEW: LindaAnn LoSchiavo on Turning Caregiving into Creative Expression in "Cancer Courts My Mother" (Prolific Pulse Press, Nov. 2025).
#FormalVerse
@prolificpulsepress.bsky.social @sfpoetry.bsky.social @swsworlds.bsky.social @bookspotlight.bsky.social
onetribune.one/2025/11/29/l...
🏆Thrilled to receive a Dwarf Stars Award!
#FormalVerse
Many thanks to SFPA @sfpoetry.bsky.social
@swsworlds.bsky.social
@hwany.org
🌟Thank you, Emily. 🌟
I love writing in the Golden Shovel format.
I always use iambic pentameter (unless a sneaky 3-syllable required word trips up the metrics). 🙃
#FormalVerse
A poem: Progress, They Call It (a Contrapuntal Poem - every other line comprises a standalone poem, then the two are woven together) progress, they call it: slashing, burning, progress— can’t stop the forward motion of a nation! encroaching, elbowing, uprooting the living who would want to thwart the people’s will, or kill the canopy of verdant sunlit trees that once breathed sweet aroma of crisply minted bills enrobed in leather with our exhalations. we breathed theirs until they gasped the faintest whiff of manliness, invoking will, their last, until they fell to saw and ax, bulldozed determination. ancestors’ words forgotten as new money’s burned to make a way for strip malls and wealth, unfettered by past sense, decorum, grows, power lines—such progress don’t go well with pines— it goes to feed the engines of industry that only thrive incinerating cedar selves in swirling smoke coal-fired on the backs of miners, steelworkers, “little people”— their ashes drifting heavenwards and carried those dispensable, extra mouths to feed until on the santa ana winds to add a colored layer the robots shove them off a cliff to the cliffs of palo duro choking out the summer sun.
Good morning! Here's a #poem for today. First time writing a #contrapuntal poem. Neither as hard (nor quite as easy) as it looked. Thanks for introducing me to the form, @mervynspoet.bsky.social
#Blueskypoetry #poetrycommunity #formalverse #thestaffordchallenge
