About a month ago I was introduced to Skeltonic or tumbling verse, which means lines of 3 to 6 words, using the same line-end rhyme until it’s not fun anymore, then change to another until it too runs out of energy … So I wrote my first, enjoyed doing it, and here it is ….
PLANES 
they’re made to fly
across the sky
in a do-or-die
with no goodbye
to codify
or horrify
as they notify
with air and wing
the control king
with dazzling
high diving
and brightly swing
up and down 
like a clown
above the town
without a snort
or an abort
before they cavort
to the airport
A Summer Father … terse, imagistic lines; … It’s not nostalgia that we experience but quiet, poignant grief. Richard Stevenson
