“Synchronicity” defined is the state or fact of being synchronous or simultaneous; synchronism. Coincidence of events that seem to be meaningfully related.

This form consists of  eight three-line stanzas in a syllable pattern of 8/8/2. This poetry type has no rhyme and is usually written in the first person (variation removes that restriction) with a twist. The twist is to be revealed within the last two stanzas. Created by Debra Gundy.


THE LOVE CHAPTER (Based loosly on 1 Corinthians 13)

 Though I understand mysteries
Though I speak with tongues of men and

 Though I may remove the mountains
Though I give all my goods to feed
the poor

 Though I have prophetic powers
Though I give time freely to those
in need

 Though I listen to those who speak
Though I with gratitude use my

 Though I covet not my neighbor
Though I nurture and encourage

 Though I respect the Word of God
Though I delight in hymns and psalms
of praise

 Though I have all manner of faith
Though I strive to honor my God

 Though my actions be impressive,
if I lack love, I am nothing
but noise.

© Marie Elena Good – 2012



The gentle in and out of life,
fills her lungs with each cautious breath,
she lives

each day as if it were her last.
My hard and fast rule, is this:
find bliss

within every waking moment,
the gift of life is heaven sent.
Feel love

in the people that surround you,
return every heartbeat in kind.
My mind

swims out to the choppy waters
filling this torrent of despair.
Who dares

to deny her the love she craves?
Love saves the broken hearted from,


She lives for the moments like this:
a tender kiss and words of love
heart felt.

And we’ll go forward forever.
Never lose sight of the future,
or now!


© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2012



A new feature of the IN-FORM POET WEDNESDAY is rather unexpected, and that is quite fitting.

Since a good majority of us “met” and started posting our poetry with Robert Lee Brewer at Poetic Asides who posts the Wednesday Prompts, we will be including the Poetic Asides prompt here. Please be sure to go over to Poetic Asides and participate there as well. Those of you unfamiliar with this site will be well served to give it a look. Robert provides much in the way of supporting and nurturing poetics: the weekly Wednesday prompt as stated, but also poetic form challenges, the April Poem-A-Day challenge, the November Poem-A-Day Chapbook Challenge and poet interviews and other features.

 From Robert Lee Brewer: “For this week’s prompt, write a poem about something unexpected. Birthdays are usually expected affairs, but what happens on them could be anyone’s guess. Plus, something unexpected could be a good thing or a bad thing or a thing that seems bad at first but is ultimately good or a thing that seems good at first but is ultimately bad or, well, you get the idea.”

It’s Robert’s birthday today. Give him the gift of poetry. Maybe use the SYNCRONICITY form in an unexpected poem? Get back to supporting the man who had given us the inclination to poem. Give Poetic Asides another look.


  1. The two of you are definitely in synch today! Marie I’m certain you will never be as sounding brass!

    I will have a look at the form but can’t hope to emulate these two…..

  2. Both of yours are delightful reading. 1 Cor. 13 is always enjoyable to refresh our minds. Lot to think about with yours Walt.
    Very interesting form – not sure I twink the twist – but will work on it.
    Will wait for daylight to post. 🙂

  3. Pingback: Birdwatching | Vivinfrance's Blog


    Sweet and sour aurora chorus :
    unwilling slugabed sleepers
    wake up.

    Earlybird seekers of breakfast
    hopping and pecking here and there.

    A flypast of oystercatchers,
    Red Arrows, veiled in black and white

    A swim past of mallard parents
    with a ribambelle of fluffballs.
    Too cute.

    The mugging by high-handed gulls
    of an innocent ham sandwich.
    A crime.

    A patient hovercraft kestrel
    aloft and quivering to plunge.
    Snatched shrew.

    Formation dancing by starlings
    glimmering across the twighlit stage.


    A soggy stiff-jointed stillness
    of a witness, longing for tea.
    goes home.

    The poem was partially inspired by a post at the Osprey Watch
    Ribambelle is a French word for a string of something, usually children.

    • LOVE this, Viv! Your twist at the end made me go, “Awww! Poor Viv!”

      Walt, I love the flow of yours from line to line. Beautifully penned, as always. I seldom say anything about your work out here, but your melodious flow is in such stark contrast to my clipped lines, it begged saying.


      • Marie, as I read your poem (powerful) and then Walt’s, and as this line…the gift of life is heaven sent.
        Feel love’ impacted my thought and as I marveled at Viv’s knowledge and ability to paint a delightful bird-watching scene inspiration hit! Thank-you all.

    • Viv!! This is SO vivid…I can see them all and you! 🙂

      You know, my favorite is this one:

      “A patient hovercraft kestrel
      aloft and quivering to plunge.
      Snatched shrew.”

      I really like how you captured the “aloft and quivering,” excellent poem!!


    • I’m not sure whether to deck you Mr.W or hug you hard … your “death notice” poem showed up, with picture and dates, unexplained, in my e-mail inbox … I had a few bad moments until I started scouting around and realized no-one else seemed too upset and then finally came upon the exercise … I don’t write to that prompt very often so … glad that the news of your death was greatly exaggerated to say the least!

      • TELL ME ABOUT IT!! I was having trouble with my e-mail account, so it didn’t come in until very late last night. I’m thankful he and I facebooked about it before I found out that way.

        I SAY WE DECK HIM! 😉


  6. Awesome Acknowledgement

    If the Lord wills, the sun to rise
    Dissolving the darkness in gold

    If the Lord wills, rain to nurture
    Earth’s fallow and field where farmers
    Have toiled

    If the Lord wills springtime its green
    Summer’s blue and autumn’s crimson

    If the Lord wills shaded bowers
    Barren land to burgeon with corn
    And wheat

    If the Lord wills strength for the day
    Hope in each gifted intake of
    Man’s breath

    If He imbues us with talents
    And the marvelous indwelling
    Of Love

    If we acknowledge our vast
    And our complete dependence
    In Him

    Dare we to claim one syllable
    Of His praise, His honor or His

  7. Never

    Try as I might I could never
    step twice into the same river.

    Try as I might I could never
    catch the same snowflake in my hand.

    Try as I might I could never
    take a long stroll in the same rain.

    Try as I might I could never
    feel the same sunlight on my face.

    Try as I might I could never
    find time that I foolishly lost.

    Try as I might I could never
    rekindle the thrill of first love.

    Try as I might I could never
    remember the feeling of loss.

    So that try as I might I had
    never lost anything I loved.

  8. Pingback: Perspective « Metaphors and Smiles

  9. Perspective

    Some may say all life is governed
    by scales of synchronicity,

    in a balance, coincidence;
    an invisible collision
    with time.

    Perhaps a happy-accident
    that led my steps to you today,

    Happenstance falling around me,
    fit into puzzle perfect place

    Eyes lifted and looking upward
    for a most certain twist of fate,
    life, death.

    Will a stroke of luck lead me there,
    gather me to my final home,
    to rest?

    Say its chance or a fickle fluke?
    Born, I’m bound-stitched to this inkless
    Truth Book.

    Fortuitous…failing, success?
    Prince of Providence reigns within
    my heart.
    ©Hannah Gosselin 7/18/12

  10. the light of the sunrise and sunset.
    lights glow

    Sound of thunder, children at play,
    A church bell calling the world
    to worship.

    Sound of laughter, tears, and of joy.
    sound of the poor and the needy,
    of love.

    The notes of wind and birds singing.
    a baby’s cry, a child’s song,
    Movement of wind, the pounding waves.
    lone sea gull’s flight, a song and a
    soft prayer

    The fire’s heat, notes of longing,
    strength of a child and of the cross,
    of love.

    A whisper, a shout, work, color,
    sight, learning, joy, tears, help, saftey,
    all life

    You are the Light, and You are Sound,
    Music and Strength. Oh Lord, You are
    all things.

  11. When I copied – I forget to check – missed the very first line . 😦

    “Light of the sun, the moon and stars.”

  12. Your poem

    Restless, but not without rest, I
    peruse your poem hoping she

    Sooner than later. I insist
    on knowing before going out
    to shop:

    What if she will convince me to
    buy differently or not shop
    at all?

    And thus my lime-green shopping bag
    with yellow flowers inside lies

    And thus the hours deciding
    among lime and red and coral
    were too?

    Or worse, what if I miss the sale
    of two pairs of shoes for the price
    of one?

    I say I never really liked lime
    except in the gespacho
    I eat

    now while reading your poem and that
    my shoe closet is full—so now
    read. Rest.

    I truly loved your two poems, Marie Elana and Walt, so this is synchronicity in deed. Bless you Walt!

  13. Our Love

    A boy came to my life one day
    He stole my heart for his, he did
    It beat

    He grew to be a man, did he
    While treasuring my heart, oh yes
    It swelled

    And I became less girl, I did
    More woman all the time, oh yes
    I did

    We held each other’s hearts by then
    And carefully most of the time
    Then too

    But we were young and foolish still
    So sometimes fell apart awhile
    And cried

    Then love and trust mended our hearts
    We promised we would try harder
    And did

    It was not easy but I know
    It was worth everything it took
    It was

    For I can’t live without him nor
    Him without me no matter what
    The end


    • Thanks all – it is a simple story but seemed to fit the prerequisite so found a home … liked your summing up Misky … that’s more or less it exactly …

  14. Full Circle

    Sometimes depression takes my hand
    and leads me down a listless path,

    I look around at all I love—
    my husband, friends, my books, my home,
    such good,

    my pets and plenty, music, luck,
    and see so much clutter and waste.
    I’m blind.

    Good fortune is depression’s fool;
    dull twanging bells and smiling face
    I wear.

    I try to follow mother’s plan,
    pretend that all is well, my shell

    but even in despair, I know
    a lie when it is lived behind
    my eyes.

    I let the dullness fill me up
    and overflow my cup, my mind.
    I wait

    until the darkness brings the light.
    Let blindness please restore my sight,
    I pray.

  15. I’m a bit surprised (pleasantly so) how this form seems to lend itself to prayer/praise/love/beauty. Every single poem so far is just so very lovely.

    Marie Elena

  16. “Wisdom rushed”

    Youthful wisdom leaves me in a
    curiosity spin, the rush
    to grow

    too fast, too hard—to heft the world
    upon dandelion fluff and

    What wisdom runneth over a
    a green sapling with a silver

    What wisdom grows in shallow soil
    entombed in brick tents and clashing

    music, night rules, rushing time? My
    sister in the urn was cuffed to

    by falsely wise fools who allowed
    night stench to claim victory with

    of charcoal stain. Hear the words of
    the gray lady rimmed in pearls. She

    from gaunt years—child, learn to linger
    in sorrow and joy; grow slowly

      • (sorry for the repost)

        “Rushing wisdom”

        Youthful wisdom leaves me in a
        curiosity spin, the rush
        to grow

        too fast, too hard—to heft the world
        upon dandelion fluff and
        warm milk.

        What wisdom runneth over a
        a green sapling with a silver-
        etched cup?

        What wisdom grows in shallow soil
        entombed in brick tents and clashing

        music, night rules, rushing time? My
        sister in the urn was cuffed to

        by falsely wise fools who allowed
        night stench to claim victory with
        red eyes

        of charcoal stain. Hear the words of
        the gray lady rimmed in pearls. She

        from gaunt years—child, learn to linger
        in sorrow and joy; slowly grow

  17. Aquamarine

    Aquamarine is the color
    of seas and it’s the birthstone of
    my kids.

    How funny is it then, that I
    loved this color long before I
    met them.

    Across a universe of years
    a connection was forged by hues
    of blue

    which somehow found its way to me
    through an umbilical cord shared
    by three.

    Three is supposed to be magic.
    It makes a certain kind of sense,
    but then

    can we not make sense of all the
    symbols that wait on the sidelines
    ‘til we

    pick them up and hose them off with
    a blast of cool aquamarine

    I think we can, but regardless,
    aquamarine is my most loved


  18. Powers

    Felt his intenseness and surety
    when I peered into eyes that held
    my own.

    Flirting around a coffee cart
    piqued our sense of lust, took us

    I was not consciously looking
    for a lover, but I shivered,

    Take a chance while we were involved
    with others, though loosely–seams ripped,
    garment torn?

    We chose to gamble all our chips,
    and how deeply in love we fell.
    What next?

    Four years in happiness, we lived
    together; I said, no marriage.
    He pushed.

    He filed my doubts to a smooth edge,
    cajoling me `til I agreed.
    He left.

  19. This is just another example of the SYNCHRONICITY form which I had posted over at Poetic Asides for Robert’s “Unexpected” prompt.


    The winds change unexpectedly
    setting everything in chaos
    I toss

    and in turn I become airborne.
    I will hold no malice or scorn,
    I’m worn

    from flapping my arms so quickly.
    It is a sickly guttural

    with which I’m dealing, a feeling
    of freedom and some kind of angst.
    I wretch,

    and if someone would fetch me an
    air sick bag, things would go a lot

    If music soothes the savage breast
    my guess is that primal screaming
    will not

    cure the flippy stomach I’ve got.
    I hate to fly, if you haven’t
    guessed it.

    Gusts and upheavals, retrievals
    of my wits, I have these fits when
    I fly.

    © Walt Wojtanik – 2012

  20. Pick out a day…we go our way
    and seldom stop to give bold thought –

    Go find some new fun things to do.
    Things to spark, to give a lark,
    Give life

    for job begun, a job well done,
    Then stand and fight for what is right.
    To care.

    Before too late, let’s celebrate!
    Trace a sunbeam, share pink ice cream!

    when wine and cheese in moonlight please,
    and ended days in special ways,
    with love.

    We need to play a bit each day!
    A ball to fling, a song to sing,
    to dance.

    So let the child, quick, bold or mild,
    who freely gives, who in you lives,
    find wings.

    Allow into your day no more
    attitude of taking all for


    While reading truth lined up and down,
    calculating words needed here,
    I see

    wonders and love and forgiveness
    evaluated brilliantly,
    I flee

    preparing my tuna salad
    no heavy cream, no milk chocolate

    I say to myself whispering
    in case someone hears me swearing,
    get lost

    like my expensive leather boots
    I use for walking Caminos.
    No where!

    That’s when I read the poems here
    inquiring mind wants to know
    it all

    while eating and watching the news.
    What has it got to do with me?
    I think.

    The truth is here in front of me
    So many of them everywhere,
    I guess.

  22. I just posted this one on Poetic Asides for Robert’s birthday surprise. I’m also posting here, since the prompt originate here.

    A Frugal Life

    I like to take life day by day
    thinking it the best way to live
    I say

    Live modestly, live a no-frills
    frugal way, a quiet life, like

    That turn like clocks, slowly tying
    knots and bows, into clicks of time,

    Like sparrows come autumn, slipping
    from spring into winter, the sun

    And drowning in moonbeams, bright as
    stars singing as they fall to earth
    at night

    These quiet times, these simple things,
    the warmth of soil, and cool rain

    cherished moments, bedtime stories,
    apples, cherries, buttered fresh bread,
    I said,

    I see life in new light each day,
    and live frugally feasting on

  23. Still struggling with this form (esp haven’t been able to “twist” the ending) but thought I would try one more …

    In a Lifetime of Love

    Blue-eyed babies grace both our lives
    Giggling, sobbing, always there
    To love

    In no time at all they walk away
    Not looking back to see us smile
    Or wave

    With love and luck they become strong
    Resourceful and kind members
    Of life
    We stay near of course if need be
    But mostly we’re there just “in case”
    Stand by

    Ecstatic to watch our child’s children
    Grow into the people they do
    So proud

    The circle, it stays unbroken
    If fortune smiles on us, fate too
    Bless us

    Through hard and good times we lean
    On each other stand strong and true
    We do

    Not ever knowing the ending
    We take the trip all the way through
    Thank you


  24. Unwrapped

    You will never know the answers
    if you don’t ever ask the right

    to the problems you can’t foresee
    as well as those you choose to

    the truth even when it slaps you
    in the face or perhaps on the

    the times are very different now
    and we have been forced to learn tough

    about right and wrong, good and bad
    and many have had to shoulder

    none should have to bear such a weight
    but everyone carries something

    of each of us is a great gift
    for the most part left completely

    until the perfect day and time
    creeps up on you and grabs at the

    By Michael Grove

    • Michael, I’ll always be hoping for the perfect day – and well, it sort of comes every day – and that’s why I love your poem here. Let’s unwrap the days. Thank you!

  25. A Prayer Today

    I wish for a voice loud enough
    To wake all these sickly sleepers

    I long for much stronger shoulders
    To carry this world’s unsightly

    I cry for larger, tender hands
    To wipe the endless flow of tears

    I desire the absolute truth
    To massacre a world of lies
    So false

    I plead for justice, full and true
    To wipe away innocent deaths

    I howl for right retribution
    To fall on all the endlessly

    I whisper for quiet mercy
    To flood these dry and broken lands
    Of ours

    I pray for love beyond all things
    To finally right all these wrongs

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