Lest We Forget – B&P Shadorma and Beyond – The Bop

Today we’re going to look into a fairly recently created poetic form called The Bop. It was created by poet Afaa Michael Weaver, an American poet (born in 1951, author of several collections of poems and a full length play) during a summer retreat of the African-American poetry organization Cave Canem.

It’s not totally dissimilar to a sonnet … it consists of three un-rhymed stanzas with a repeated refrain after each stanza.

The first stanza is dedicated to the statement of a problem and it is 6 lines long.

The second stanza is dedicated to the elaboration of the problem and it is 8 lines long.

The third stanza is dedicated to the possible solution of the problem and it is also 6 lines long.


How do we remember the men we’ve lost?
How can we tell them they’re still being missed?
That every day, especially on this crisp autumn day
Their memories still linger and they’re not forgotten
That what they’ve done are truly appreciated
Would wearing poppies and lighting candles do?

Lest we forget, lest we forget

Men of valour and courage going to war
Every generation, there are some reasons
Of why men waged wars against each other
We send them there, some still boys and girls
Not knowing whether they’d still come back
The experience they’ve got, we don’t really know
And when they come back, are they still whole?
Our heroes, our loved ones, their sacrifices

Lest we forget, lest we forget

And so we remember them
We appreciate what they’ve done
To our countries and to our freedom
Wars are ugly, wars are unfair and wars are ruthless
But then they are necessary sometimes
Let’s just hope that peace and understanding come

Lest we forget, lest we forget

For: B&P’s Shadorma & Beyond

The Soldier by Robert Frost


He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled,
That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust,
But still lies pointed as it ploughed the dust.
If we who sight along it round the world,
See nothing worthy to have been its mark,
It is because like men we look too near,
Forgetting that as fitted to the sphere,
Our missiles always make too short an arc.
They fall, they rip the grass, they intersect
The curve of earth, and striking, break their own;
They make us cringe for metal-point on stone.
But this we know, the obstacle that checked
And tripped the body, shot the spirit on
Further than target ever showed or shone.

For: Nurturing Thursday

Valour and Courage


PHOTO PROMPT – © J Hardy Carroll

PHOTO PROMPT – © J Hardy Carroll

“Valour is stability, not of legs and arms, but of courage and the soul.” ~ Michel de Montaigne

“At the end of another long day, and too many more ahead to even think about about, Sam took a moment to gather his thoughts.”
He yearned for peace in his waking hours. The flames were still bright red. Burning for safety. Pebbles rolled along the cliffs and soft sedimentary rocks had eroded away. Sam bent to touch the clay beneath his feet. Gathering his thoughts, he remembered his friends who were injured and those who didn’t come back alive. Numerous friends and comrades who had shown great valour and courage during the war. He knew that the war was over but the cost to people in human suffering was immeasurable.

by brenda warren

by brenda warren

For: Wed Stories, Friday Fictioneers and Wordle #132

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Carpe Diem Haiku Writing Techniques #17 Leap Linkage

a fish opens a door
in the lake

© Jane Reichhold

swinging bridge
first one thinks of
meeting horses

© Basho (Tr. Jane Reichhold)

sky diver
flies down to earth
like Icarus

© Chèvrefeuille


coming from nowhere
saved the damsel in distresss
the knight and his horse

leap to freedom
fighting until the last breath
our independence

(c) ladyleemanila 2015

For: Carpe Diem Haiku Writing Techniques #17

John the Racer – Sunday Photo Fiction


John was getting ready for the Stock-car race. He knew that it isn’t about speed, it’s about focus and skills. It’s also about being challenged and making himself a better driver on the track. Together with his team, they prepared the racing car. His family and friends were there for support. The quarter-mile oval track on the tarmac was being prepared. The stadium was full of spectators. It was a windy day.

And the flag was waved. The sound of the engines was deafening. John wore his helmet and released the hand brake. He just have to complete the 16 laps. On the 10th lap, two cars smashed into each other, causing the incoming cars to collide with one another. Unfortunately, John’s car was also included in the crash. He was unharmed but he knew that this year’s race wasn’t for him. Better luck next year, John.

For: Sunday Photo Fiction

A Man With No Name – Friday Fictioneers, Write Now and Whirligig 24

THIS WEEK’S WORDS come from “August 12 in the Nebraska Sand Hills Watching the Perseids Meteor Shower” by Twyla Hansen: rolling, furrow, moves, dust, timeless, floating, name, powerless, stars, rub, pulsing, moonless

PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

He had to make a choice: run to safety with everyone else, or head back and help others get out of danger. His face was furrowed with tears. He knew he was powerless against them, but he moved fast and helped others get out of danger. It was a moonless night, not even the stars were witnesses to the scene. He seemed to be floating on the dusty road. Years later, he could rub and close his eyes and those scenes pulsing and throbbing in his skull. He could still feel the rolling impact of this horrible experience.

For: Friday Fictioneers, Write Now and Whirligig 24


Getting Away – Friday Fictioneers and Wordle 150


I guess it was anger that triggered it
Never knew the reason for tit for tat
The double assault with no mercy
There’s no way for us to flee

It was easy to say we were not the same types
People moan, grumble, groan and gripe
Fuelling the list of enemies or adversaries
Could we settle this and be friends?

Six days of never ending war
Smoke rising, wreckage charred
Where do we go from here?
Stop! I plead with a tear

by brenda warren

by brenda warren

For: Friday Fictioneers and Wordle #150


Strange Noises – FFfAW-Week of 08-18-2015 and Whirligig 19

THIS WEEK’S WORDS come from “Supple Cord” by Naomi Shihab Nye: separate, breath, hear, floor, asleep, bickering, signal, bed, awake, soft, cord, frayed

This week's photo prompt is provided by pixabay.com

This week’s photo prompt is provided by pixabay.com

The noise was Pauline opening the door, blue dawn light outlining the frayed edges of her hair. Alec is still asleep on the bed, breathing softly. Last night’s bickering was still on her mind. She shouldn’t have said those words. It was a signal that they should try hard not to be separated. That they should hear and understand what the other was saying. She took her shoes off and left them on the floor. She was carrying several balloons tied with cords and place them all over the house. Then she started making some breakfast. A nice breakfast in bed for Alec to say sorry. She couldn’t wait for him to wake up.

For: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers and Whirligig 19

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Lies and Smiles – Writing Prompt #120 “Collage 4″ and Prompt 76 – Weekend Wordle #11


Murder, she wrote
As hollow as a dock
As she read the quote
And the crow squawked

Dumb cat up the chimney
Sad as the absence of the sun
Emotional cruelty so bleakly
Such a heavy burden

The crow’s harsh caw
The clock’s ticking
Bone the dog gnaws
Her eyes brooding

Candle light’s flickering
As fast as a heartbeat
She’s tired from crying
Why was he such a cheat?

Then stop, completely still
All alone in the room
She was tense and unfulfilled
Her eyes peering into the gloom

Lies, smile and necklace
Hopelessly waiting for him
An existence at best aimless
Start again from therethrough


For: Writing Prompt #120 and Weekend Wordle #11


Surprise! – Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers and Prompt 62 – Weekend Wordle #9

This week's photo prompt is provided by Louise with “The Storyteller's Abode.” Thank you Louise!

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Louise with “The Storyteller’s Abode.” Thank you Louise!

“I’m afraid I have something to show you. I was fascinated by them and bought them for our garden – one, two, three, you can open your eyes now…” I guided him through our house.

“Oh no,” he groaned.

“Don’t you like them? We’re the only ones in the neighbourhood who has them!” I tried to sound convincing.

“Not even if they were made of gold, they were so huge for our garden,” he tried to catch my attention as I was figuring out the best places for them.

“We’re always on different pages, you never liked what I liked,” I shouted as I stormed back to the house.

“It’s going to be a long night,” he shook his head slowly.


For: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers and Weekend Wordle #9

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