Tag Archives: haibun

∙ᶌ∙ Ϡ ∙ᶌ∙ the real housewives of ‘Once Upon A Time’

“Will you pleeeease stop calling me Red!”  whined the young woman formerly known as Little Red Riding Hood.  She pushed back the hood of  the grey wolf  fur coat she was wearing,  stamping snow off  of  her matching fur boots as the butler closed the front door of  the castle behind her.

“Oh,  for Pete’s sake!”  said Snow White.  “We call you that because you dye your hair red,  not because you used to wear that ugly red cloak.”  She was standing in front of  the magic mirror,  trying to see herself  around the idiot who lived in the mirror.  Giving up,  she turned toward the group of  women she had invited for dinner.

“Then why do we call you Snow White?  Your hair’s black!”  Red had been jealous of  Snow ever since she got to marry a prince and live in a castle.

“That’s just her alias”  said a stunning (natural) redhead.

“Yes,  she used to be Cynthia Tedrehan until they caught her on camera trying to rob a fruit stand”  added the gorgeous blonde standing next to her.  I am Snow-White!  And this is my sister,  Rose-Red”  she said pointing to the redhead.  “Does the prince know you’re a felon,  Cindy?”

Belle let out a very un-ladylike snort.

“Ha!  If  her prince doesn’t care about her having lived with seven little men,  why would he care if  she tried to steal some fruit?”

“That was uncalled for.”  said Aurora {aka Sleeping Beauty.}  “You were willing to marry the Beast when you didn’t know he would turn back into a prince.  Talk about kinky!”

Belle shot her a dirty look.

“At least I didn’t marry the prince who raped me while I was sleeping.  You were what?  Seven months pregnant by the time you woke up?”

Aurora took a step toward Belle,  her face bright red.

{Cinder}Ella stepped between them,  putting her arm around Aurora.  {She,  too,  thought Belle was probably a pervert.}

A woman sitting in the corner suddenly cleared her throat.  Everyone turned to her,  but no one recognized the woman with the blonde pixie-cut hairstyle.  “Really,  ladies!  Enough of  this trash-talk!”

Sensing the confusion in the room,  Snow said “Have I told you how much I like your new ‘do,  Rapunzel?”

Belle snorted again.  “The way I heard it,  you’d let your hair down for any Tom,  Dick or Harry when you were locked in the tower.  Did your prince make you cut it before he would marry you?”

Just as it seemed someone was going to take a swing,  the butler appeared.  Ringing a tiny bell,  he said “Dinner is served,  m’ladies.”

This story’s moral ~
careful what you say…    or hope
you’re  ‘saved by the bell’

∙ᶌ∙ Ϡ ∙ᶌ∙

{in the original fairy tales,  all of  the women except one married a prince.  i took poetic license including Little Red Riding Hood since we don’t know if she has married ~ here is my original poem about her posted 23 September 2011}

no innocent

was she

but rather

a devious,

greedy girl

schooled well

in the

ways of

seduction

by grandma

no wolf

stood a

chance

against

her wiles

with the

harmless

old lady

as bait

and

the

woodsman’s axe

coming down

upon

their heads

from behind

next winter

all three

will

stay warm

in

their

new

fur

coats

∙ᶌ∙ Ϡ ∙ᶌ∙


“Little Red Riding Hood”   Sam the Sham and the Pharoahs   {Betty Boop Video}

originally posted  18 March 2012

all images are in the public domain unless otherwise noted
credit for the images as follows ~

‘Little Red Riding Hood silhouette’
Le chaperon rouge, vu par krak

‘Snow White in the mirror’
peter pearson’s flickr photostream

some rights reserved

‘Snow White and the Dwarfs’
by Anne Anderson (1874-1930)

‘Beauty sat down to dinner with the Beast’
by Anne Anderson (1874-1930)

‘Sleeping Beauty and the Prince’
pencil and watercolor 1899

by Henry Meynell Rheam (1859–1920)

‘Rapunzel in her tower’
by John B. Gruelle

From The Project Gutenberg eBook
Grimm’s Fairy Stories
by Jacob Grimm and Wilhelm Grimm
Illustrated by John B. Gruelle and R. Emmett Owen

read the fairy tales on wikipedia.org at these links ~

‘Little Red Riding Hood’

‘Snow-White and Rose-Red’

‘Snow White and the Dwarfs’

‘Beauty and the Beast’

‘Sleeping Beauty’

‘Cinderella’

‘Rapunzel’

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Filed under blog anniversary, Creative Every Day, fantasy, science fiction and horror, haibun, humor, NaBloPoMo, poetry, Post-A-Day, prose, redux

•☯• dream catcher •☯•

The sickly sweet aroma of  summer’s fruits gone over-ripe sent me wandering back…  reminding me of  a fervid summer day that was the last time I could claim my life as my own.

It was the final year of  The Thirty Year Drought.  Of  course,  no one knew then that the rains would return in a matter of  weeks.  The crops weren’t worth harvesting and the hard,  shriveled fruits were left to rot on the vines.  The heavy perfume of  the grotesque vegetation was so thick I could see it ~ a blue haze that insinuated itself  into the dust that was everywhere.

Both my parents took the day work they could find in town,  insisting that I stay on the farm to protect what little of  value was left.  Though only fifteen,  I’d gotten damn good with the old pump-action shotgun.  Stupid fucking men thinking I was just a piece of  ass they could enjoy before they stripped our place clean of  whatever they could eat,  drink or carry off.  None of  the neighbors cared how we kept our pigs fed as long as we shared the meat whenever we slaughtered one.

I hoped that helping others to survive would spare me from eternal damnation but,  with every life I took,  I felt my future dying as the Earth died all around me.  I spent my days sitting on the front porch waiting for the marauders,  shotgun hidden in the folds of  my skirt,  decorating grapevine hoops with felt from our one remaining sheep,  as well as found feathers and pretty stones.  I hung them all along the porch eaves.

I’d taken to watching a spider spinning its webs inside the hoops,  one after another.  By the time the spider had wound the last thread,  it no longer seemed strange to me that he had started at one end and moved,  hoop by hoop,  to the opposite end of  the porch.  I wasn’t at all surprised when the wise-looking spider spoke to me.

“I  have brought you an opportunity to help Humankind and the Earth”  he whispered,  “if  you have the courage to devote yourself  to their needs.”  “What would I have to do?”  I asked hesitantly.

“Between the two of  us,  we have created dream catchers which hold the destiny of  the future within them.  They will only work if  the People believe in the Great Spirit and in the power of  the dream catchers.  You must go to each Human and speak to them when they are sleeping,  giving them the faith they are lacking.  Leave a dream catcher hanging above their bed so that it may filter their good ideas,  dreams and visions to them while they slumber.  The bad ones will be trapped and will not pass.  In this way,  they will discover the actions that need to be taken to heal the Earth and bring balance to all Life.”

I could not refuse the honour of  being chosen for such an important task.  It did not take long for Humans to begin to solve the problems of  the world.  A way to seed clouds to make rain was working in less than a month;  new farming techniques were developed which helped to feed everyone.  With their new-found faith,  violence ceased.  All of  the deadly sins were vanquished.  Those with material goods shared.  Those with knowledge taught.  Those with hearts full of  love and compassion cared for those who were unable to care for themselves.  Life flourished as others began to spread the Faith we all need to have in ourselves to succeed.

The spider and I continue to make dream catchers to deliver around the world.  His companionship is a treasure I truly cherish.

Working together
Gives individuals strength
United we thrive

•☯•


“Dreamcatcher”   Secret Garden

Poetry form ~

Haibun
(Japanese: 俳文 haikai writings) is a literary composition that combines prose and haiku. The range of haibun is broad and includes, but is not limited to, the following forms of prose:  autobiography,  biography,  diary,  essay,  history,  prose poem,  short story and travel literature…..

A haibun may record a scene, or a special moment, in a highly descriptive and objective manner or may occupy a wholly fictional or dream-like space. The accompanying haiku may have a direct or subtle relationship with the prose and encompass or hint at the gist of what is recorded in the prose sections…..

Contemporary practice of haibun composition in English is evolving rapidly. Generally, a haibun consists of one or more paragraphs of prose written in a concise,  imagistic  haikai  style,  and one or more haiku…..Read More

image ~ “dreamcatchers”  by  media123
creative commons license

the history of  dream catchers

how to make a dream catcher

a wonderful reading of  the poem “The Spider and the Fly”
with the poem in print on the screen~


“The Spider and the Fly”  by  Mary Howitt  Read by Tom O’Bedlam

“Will you rest upon my little bed?” said the Spider to the Fly.”
‘The Spider and the Fly’   Mary Howitt   1829

the mortal or deadly sins

originally posted  19 August 2012 ~ this was one of  the top  five most viewed posts in 2013

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Filed under blog anniversary, Creative Every Day, haibun, NaBloPoMo, poetry, Post-A-Day, redux

•Ψ• Sinnerman •Ψ•

Ψ

Ψ

Ψ

SMACK…  SPLAT…  SLAP…  SMACK…
Damn!  They were going to hear the sound of  his bare feet on the pavement even if  they couldn’t see him in the shadows of  the old factory!  What had happened to his shoes?  His memory was a jumbled mess of  blurry images…  all he knew for certain was that  “they”  were chasing him!

Ψ

CRACK…  RUSTLE…  SNAP…  CRACK…
R
unning in the forest at dusk was too dangerous!  He’d better stop until full dark if  he didn’t want to be discovered ~ every footfall crunched leaves or snapped a twig.  Breathing heavily,  he slid as far under the old tree root as he could get.  He covered himself  with the detritus of  the forest floor and hoped that no animal would catch the scent of  blood on him if  he fell asleep.

Ψ

SPLISH…  SPLOSH…  SPLASH…

Running through the stream under the full moon left him too exposed.  The glint off  of  the blade of  the knife clutched in his left hand might catch someone’s eye.  He paused long enough to bury it beneath a pile of  rocks in the shallow water.

Ψ

CRUNCH…  RATTLE…  SPLISH…  SLURP…

Running along the narrow pebbled bank of  the creek sent stones skittering off  into the grass and tumbling down into the water.  His foot slid along with the tiny rocks and,  before he knew what happened,  his left foot was sucked into the oozing mud.  He fell to his knees in the stream and thrust his hands up to the heavens.
“Help me,  Lord!”  he cried.  “I  have sinned but i am asking for your forgiveness.”
But the Lord God refused,  telling him  “GO TO THE DEVIL,  SINNERMAN!”

Ψ

HISS…  SPLAT…  SPLASH…

The smell of  sulfur burned his lungs…  trying to take shallow breaths,  he waded through the stream as it began to bubble and hiss at the edges,  his bare feet already blistering on the hot stones beneath the water.
“Lucifer!  Lucifer!”  he called out.  “I  beg sanctuary!  Tell me what I  must do!”
The Devil sneered and said  “OFF WITH YOU, FILTH!  GET OUT OF  MY SIGHT!”

Ψ

SHUFFLE…  SCRAPE…  SHUFFLE…  SCRAPE..

They had set the wolves on him.  He could hear the howling not too far away but his raw,  bloody feet could not move any faster.  Was it still the same night?  Or had he lost an entire day like he had lost his clothes and his memories?
Blood spurting onto walls…   onto the sheets…  onto him…
red,  crimson,  scarlet.  What you called it didn’t matter.
That bright vermilion spraying all over was the only clear memory he had.

Ψ

Clothed in naught but the darkness,  ol’  Sinnerman shook his head like a dog,  trying to get the sweat out of  his eyes.  Not that it mattered if  he could see.  Rejected by both Jehovah and Beelzebub…..      he had nowhere to go.

›·• Ψ •·‹

When even Lucifer

has shunned ye…..      Oh,  Sinnerman,

just what did you do?

›·• Ψ •·‹

Ψ

Ψ

Ψ


“Sinnerman”    Nina Simone

Ψ

Ψ

the final paragraph/haikū-senryū  haibun portion beginning “clothed in naught…”  was originally posted  16 February 2012
the  “back story”  was published  at  Microstory A Week  11 April 2012  { my gratitude to  Steve Isaak }  { revised ever so slightly }

Ψ

Ψ

artwork  ~   “Last Angel”   Nicholas Roerich
{  public domain }

Ψ

Ψ

“Sinnerman”    Nina Simone

lyrics ~
{i think these lyrics are incomplete but hopefully not inaccurate.}

Songwriters:  Nina Simone

Oh, Sinnerman, where you gonna run to?
 Sinnerman, where you gonna run to?
Where you gonna run to?
All along dem day.

Well I run to the rock, please hide me.
I run to the Rock, please hide me.
I run to the Rock, please hide me, Lord.
All along dem day.

But the rock cried out, I can’t hide you.
The Rock cried out, I can’t hide you.
The Rock cried out, I ain’t gonna hide you guy.
All along dem day.

I said, “Rock, what’s a matter with you, Rock?”
“Don’t you see I need you, Rock?”
Lord, Lord, Lord.
All along dem day.

So I run to the river, it was bleedin’.
 I run to the sea, it was bleedin’.
 I run to the sea, it was bleedin’.
All along dem day.

So I run to the river, it was boilin’.
 I run to the sea, it was boilin’.
 I run to the sea, it was boilin’.
All along dem day.

So I ran to the Lord, please hide me, Lord.
 Don’t you see me prayin’?
 Don’t you see me down here prayin’?

But the Lord said, “Go to the devil.”
The Lord said, “Go to the devil.”
He said, “Go to the devil.”
All along dem day.

So I ran to the devil, he was waitin’.
 I ran to the devil, he was waitin’.
 I ran to the devil, he was waitin’.
All on that day.

I cried, power (Power to da Lord)
Power (Power to da Lord)
Power (Power to da Lord)
Power

Bring down (Power to da Lord)
Bring down (Power to da Lord)
Bring down (Power to da Lord)
Bring down (Power to da Lord)
Power (Power to da Lord)
Power (Power to da Lord)
Power (Power to da Lord)
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah

Well, I run to the river, it was boilin’.
 I run to the sea, it was boilin’.
 I run to the sea, it was boilin’.
All along dem day.

So I ran to the Lord I said,
“Lord hide me, please hide me.”
“Please help me.”
All along dem day.

He said, “Child, where were you
 When you ought a been prayin’?”
 I said,”Lord, Lord, hear me prayin’.”
 Lord, Lord, hear me prayin’.
 Lord, Lord, hear me prayin’.”
All along dem day.

Sinnerman you ought a be prayin’.
 Ought a be prayin’, Sinnerman.
 Ought a be prayin’.
All on that day.

I cried, power (Power to da Lord)
Power (Power to da Lord)
Power (Power to da Lord)
Power (Power to da Lord)

Go down (Power to da Lord)
Go down (Power to da Lord)
Go down (Power to da Lord)

Power (Power to da Lord)
Power (Power to da Lord)
Power (Power to da Lord)

Oh woh, power, power, Lord.
Don’t you know.
Don’t you know, I need you Lord?
Don’t you know that I need you?
Don’t you know that I need you?
Power, power, power, Lord.

Ψ

Ψ

Ψ

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Filed under blog anniversary, Creative Every Day, haibun, NaBloPoMo, poetry, Post-A-Day, Post-A-Week, prose, redux

∙ Ꮠ ∙ Ᏹ∙ imaginary friend ∙Ᏹ ∙ Ꮠ ∙

My mother kept my secret well.  No one but she and I ever knew about Mari.  My father was oblivious until I was six and,  sobbing hysterically,  I swore that I hadn’t taken his hunting knife and cut an X in my forehead ~ Mari  had done it accidentally.  He yelled at my mother all the way to the emergency room for not telling him years before about my  imaginary   friend.  My mother quieted him by saying most children had them,  and the best way to deal with the situation was to ignore it.  My father never mentioned Mari again.  She was furious and wouldn’t stop whining the next day “Why did your father keep saying I’m imaginary?  I’m real,  Anne!  I’m real!”  I  finally consoled her by saying that,  from now on,  I would let her sleep with me instead of  on the trundle bed.  {With the one condition that she would never cut my bangs again.}  By the time I was 11,  I got the irony of  my mother being a child psychologist when I saw her best-selling book  “The Magic of Reality”  in the front window of  our  my favorite bookstore.  Now I wonder if  I was ever anything more to her than a case study.

As I got older,  I began to want to have time to be alone.  Mari’s response to my request was always  “We’ll be together ’til the end.”  She’d shrug if  I would ask when  “the end”  might be.  I escaped into my own world by painting.  My mother said I was  “gifted”  and,  when I was 15,  she sent  us   me off  to the Académie in Paris,  one of the best schools of art,  painting and sculpture.  Mother arranged for us  me to stay in a large attic room.  Perfect for a studio as well as bedroom,  it had a multi-paned window covering the northern wall and extending up into the roof.  It was in an expensive women-only hostelry which my mother equated with supervised.  La Matrone was not only drunk on her arse most of  the time,  she was the one who supplied me with wine at every meal and an extra bottle every evening.  The wine did more for my painting than the school ever did.  I became known for haunting portraits of  a girl who seemed ready to jump off the canvas and into the room.  To men she was a Lolita;  to women,  a child who needed their protection.  No matter what her pose,  the background was always dried-blood red ~ the exact shade of  the wine I drank.

Then came the night it all seemed to fall apart.  Mari had been trying to reassure me that the painting was going well,  but I would have none of  it.  Screaming  “You don’t understand!”  I threw the half-full bottle of  wine into the corner of  the room,  then threw myself  down onto the mattress,  burying my face in the pillows.  I could hear her pick the bottle up off  the floor;  set it on the table.  She turned off  the lights and lay down next to me.  As she wrapped her arms around me tenderly,  she whispered  “Don’t worry,  Anne.  It will all come together in the morning.”  And with that,  we drifted off  to sleep.

The sky was a lovely clear blue when I awoke.  The studio was filled with a wonderful light.  I looked at the painting across the room and knew exactly what needed to be done.  Just a few strokes of  the brush completed it and I signed the bottom corner…..       Marianne

∙ Ꮠ ∙ Ᏹ ∙ Ꮠ ∙

too many years apart

souls merged again ~ coming home

no longer broken

∙ Ꮠ ∙ Ᏹ ∙ Ꮠ ∙

∙ Ᏹ ∙


“Me And My Imaginary Friend”   Colin Hay

originally posted 24 October 2011


this story was written in a true collaboration between Ainsley Allmark and myself.  you may have seen our previously posted  poetry duet  or partnerships in rounds 11 through 16 at SPARK.  i began the story then we exchanged emails with our ideas until we arrived at the above final version.  even some sentences were written in part by each of  us,  though full credit is due Ainsley for the haiku and the concept of  how to merge  the two characters at the end.  i have never worked with another writer this way before and it was a genuine pleasure.  { thank you for all you contributed,  Ainsley. }  you can find his stunning  poetry and photographs at any of  the Dolphin links in the blogrolls at the bottom of  the page.  three of  his most popular blogs are  Dolphin Ainsley,  Dolphin Muse  and  Dolphin Visions.

Haibun  (Japanese: 俳文 haikai writings) is a literary composition that combines prose and haikū.  The range of haibun is broad and includes,  but is not limited to,  the following forms of prose:  autobiography,  biography,  diary,  essay,  history,  prose poem,  short story and travel literature…..

A haibun may record a scene, or a special moment, in a highly descriptive and objective manner or may occupy a wholly fictional or dream-like space. The accompanying haikū may have a direct or subtle relationship with the prose and encompass or hint at the gist of what is recorded in the prose sections…..

Contemporary practice of haibun composition in English is evolving rapidly.  Generally,  a haibun consists of one or more paragraphs of prose written in a concise,  imagistic  haikai  style,  and one or more haiku…..Read More

i  also recommend reading the We Write Poems prompt post HERE as it contains excellent links about haibun.

image credit   goes to   Dave/swineandroses at deviantArt

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Filed under blog anniversary, Creative Every Day, fantasy, science fiction and horror, haibun, haikū, NaBloPoMo, narrative poetry, poetry, Post-A-Day, Post-A-Week, redux

•☯• dream catcher •☯•

The sickly sweet aroma of  summer’s fruits gone over-ripe sent me wandering back…  reminding me of  a fervid summer day that was the last time I could claim my life as my own.

It was the final year of  The Thirty Year Drought.  Of  course,  no one knew then that the rains would return in a matter of  weeks.  The crops weren’t worth harvesting and the hard,  shriveled fruits were left to rot on the vines.  The heavy perfume of  the grotesque vegetation was so thick I could see it ~ a blue haze that insinuated itself  into the dust that was everywhere.

Both my parents took the day work they could find in town,  insisting that I stay on the farm to protect what little of  value was left.  Though only fifteen,  I’d gotten damn good with the old pump-action shotgun.  Stupid fucking men thinking I was just a piece of  ass they could enjoy before they stripped our place clean of  whatever they could eat,  drink or carry off.  None of  the neighbors cared how we kept our pigs fed as long as we shared the meat whenever we slaughtered one.

I hoped that helping others to survive would spare me from eternal damnation but,  with every life I took,  I felt my future dying as the Earth died all around me.  I spent my days sitting on the front porch waiting for the marauders,  shotgun hidden in the folds of  my skirt,  decorating grapevine hoops with felt from our one remaining sheep,  as well as found feathers and pretty stones.  I hung them all along the porch eaves.

I’d taken to watching a spider spinning its webs inside the hoops,  one after another.  By the time the spider had wound the last thread,  it no longer seemed strange to me that he had started at one end and moved,  hoop by hoop,  to the opposite end of  the porch.  I wasn’t at all surprised when the wise-looking spider spoke to me.

“I  have brought you an opportunity to help Humankind and the Earth”  he whispered,  “if  you have the courage to devote yourself  to their needs.”  “What would I have to do?”  I asked hesitantly.

“Between the two of  us,  we have created dream catchers which hold the destiny of  the future within them.  They will only work if  the People believe in the Great Spirit and in the power of  the dream catchers.  You must go to each Human and speak to them when they are sleeping,  giving them the faith they are lacking.  Leave a dream catcher hanging above their bed so that it may filter their good ideas,  dreams and visions to them while they slumber.  The bad ones will be trapped and will not pass.  In this way,  they will discover the actions that need to be taken to heal the Earth and bring balance to all Life.”

I could not refuse the honour of  being chosen for such an important task.  It did not take long for Humans to begin to solve the problems of  the world.  A way to seed clouds to make rain was working in less than a month;  new farming techniques were developed which helped to feed everyone.  With their newfound faith,  violence ceased.  All of  the deadly sins were vanquished.  Those with material goods shared.  Those with knowledge taught.  Those with hearts full of  love and compassion cared for those who were unable to care for themselves.  Life flourished as others began to spread the Faith we all need to have in ourselves to succeed.

The spider and I continue to make dream catchers to deliver around the world.  His companionship is a treasure I truly cherish.

Working together
Gives individuals strength
United we thrive

•☯•


“Dreamcatcher”   Secret Garden

Poetry form ~

Haibun
(Japanese: 俳文 haikai writings) is a literary composition that combines prose and haiku. The range of haibun is broad and includes, but is not limited to, the following forms of prose:  autobiography,  biography,  diary,  essay,  history,  prose poem,  short story and travel literature…..

A haibun may record a scene, or a special moment, in a highly descriptive and objective manner or may occupy a wholly fictional or dream-like space. The accompanying haiku may have a direct or subtle relationship with the prose and encompass or hint at the gist of what is recorded in the prose sections…..

Contemporary practice of haibun composition in English is evolving rapidly. Generally, a haibun consists of one or more paragraphs of prose written in a concise,  imagistic  haikai  style,  and one or more haiku…..Read More

image ~ “dreamcatchers”  by  media123
creative commons license

the history of  dream catchers

how to make a dream catcher

a wonderful reading of  the poem “The Spider and the Fly”
with the poem in print on the screen~


“The Spider and the Fly”  by  Mary Howitt

“Will you rest upon my little bed?” said the Spider to the Fly.”
‘The Spider and the Fly’   Mary Howitt   1829

the mortal or deadly sins

originally posted  19 August 2012 ~ this was one of  the top  five most viewed posts in 2013

“Dreamcatcher”   Secret Garden

lyrics ~

Hear my silent prayer,  heed my quiet call
When the dark and blue surround you
Step into my sigh,  look inside the light
You will know that I have found you

Hear my silent prayer,  heed my quiet call
When the dark and blue surround you
Step into my sigh,  look inside the light
You will know that I have found you

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Filed under Creative Every Day, haibun, NaBloPoMo, poetry, Post-A-Day, Post-A-Week, redux