Daily poem: August stanza 1

July’s poems followed a common pattern and thread to became a single poem. This month I’m going to try something similar, a chain of images each one suggested by the last word of the preceding poem. They’ll be short, a single image of just a few lines. It will be interesting to see where it ends up by the end of the month.


August heat

sullen as a tired dog

falls in streams

of molten bronze.


Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

59 thoughts on “Daily poem: August stanza 1”

      1. I had an idea it might have been Shakespeare but I’m probably thinking of salad days. I love that expression. I wonder if Bill would mind if I slipped it in somewhere?

      2. Go for it. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind the tribute. I had to look up the entire quotation– salad days and green in judgement. That’s great.

      1. I am impressed, I thought I would try out different disaplines of poetry this month. I had made my mind up last week to see if I could stretch myself. So here goes I have directed everyone to yours and Kat’s door. I’d like to collaborate next month on another joint project 💜

      2. Great! You can try out different poetry forms at the same time. As long as it starts with the right word it can be a sonnet, a haiku or one of those poems that make a pretty shape 🙂

    1. It started off as simply writing a poem every day for a month, but I do that anyway, so it became writing a poem in a particular form every day for a month. Last month we wrote a stanza of a poem every day. This month we’re going to write a short poem of any form that links up with the preceding poem. Should lead to an interesting result 🙂

  1. August has certainly begun here in sullenness.
    I like the Shakespeare idea. I’ve just been rereading “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”–“for night’s swift dragons cut the clouds full fast”–so much richness all over his work.
    I look forward to seeing how the month progresses. (K)

    1. I was one of those strange kids who never ever complained about studying Shakespeare. I’ve always loved his words. This month’s poems are going to shoot like the perseids.

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