Just Might Be Too Small To Keep (Twitter Poems)

In my Head (Walking)

Minnows school the road shoulder
I see the bright fins at last
for what they are
seedpods sown
by the wind winnowing
this neck
of the woods


Aging Parent

Some of the gone
a gift-
her best friend’s grandson killed,
her immediate
drive over,
the question for years after
but what
could I do?



Twitter poems!  (Of softs.)  140 characters w/spaces (but not titles!  Yes, cheated.)  Tor Mama Zen’s twitter prompt, hosted by Kerry O’Connor, on Real Toads.  

A note re pic and seed pod poem.  I thought about this image months ago when the seed pods were considerably brighter.  I only took the picture today when they are rather dessicated, so the pic doesn’t give a true idea of what I am getting at here, I’m afraid. 

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15 Comments on “Just Might Be Too Small To Keep (Twitter Poems)”

  1. Mama Zen Says:

    Both of these are just perfect!

  2. Oh I love them,.. the second moved me a lot… what can you really do… words are not gifts enough,

  3. Jim Says:

    Kept in the head pretty well, K. I have one now, must ruff it out this afternoon.
    The second one gets to me. We’ve had that in our family, a young miss with a wrong crowd. Now three tombstones, Mom and Dad with no final date, hers completed.
    Suicides aren’t any better, but more common.

    • ManicDdaily Says:

      Thanks, Jim. The gift I mean here is really the gift of forgetting, but trying to squeeze the whole story into 140 characters was a little hard. So many sad things in the world. k.

      • Jim Says:

        Thanks for the insight, K. It will be out of mind as time progresses but never forgotten.
        I came too, to tell you thank you for the Garden pictures for the prompt. I love the little poodle tiptoeing in the fresh snow. My dogs were walking just like that with their first snows.
        The other two remind me of snow shovels I left in New Hampshire. Snow is meant for skiing and sledding and snowmen, not for snow management situations. BTW, my childhood sled is hanging in our garage.

      • ManicDdaily Says:

        Ha. Thanks for your thanks. I still have my childhood sled also! A flexible flyer. k.

        On Sun, Jan 24, 2016 at 4:37 PM, ManicDDaily wrote:


  4. Candy Says:

    these are great! I can imagine thr seed pods as minnows – perfect!

  5. whimsygizmo Says:

    I’m haunted by this:
    “Some of the gone
    a gift”

    So well spilled.

  6. hedgewitch Says:

    Both of these are eloquent–I tend to favor the first, as you know I am fond of blowing seed poems–but both have that quick reveal which is needed with this form–one can’t give a long buildup, a lot of veiled allusions, it has to be a complete thought expressed in really a very very brief format. You have excelled here.(I instantly got what you were going for with the seeds, even without a pic it would work.) The second, a concept I have been pondering for awhile–being spared the grim details in life is truly a boon, though perhaps having the pages ripped out of the book is not.

    • ManicDdaily Says:


      On Mon, Jan 25, 2016 at 7:55 AM, ManicDDaily wrote:


    • ManicDdaily Says:

      ps – I had a few different versions of first one, well, both,of course. One never knows. I went with a later one, that is more incidental and straightforward. Maybe sometime do another experiment of posting a few of the tries, as they end up being very different. k.

      On Mon, Jan 25, 2016 at 7:55 AM, ManicDDaily wrote:


  7. Steve King Says:

    Remarkable…I never would have thought of the concept of a Twitter sized verse. What a great way to focus the concentration and imagination! I like both of these Karin, obviously for different reasons and reactions, but I especially connect with the first. I’m always noting shapes and objects and extrapolating to some other thing or idea. Sometimes the shapes end up in my camera, sometimes just in my head. Keep looking!
    Steve K.

  8. Kerry O'Connor Says:

    I love your image of seed pods as minnows, very cool.

    Your second poem is so touching on many levels: growing old, dying young.

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