New Poetry Form

Been trying a new form of poetry. It's simple: the first letter of a word must be the last letter of the previous word.  For an extra challenge, let the first word's first letter be the last word's last letter. Instead of focusing on rhythm or rhyme (not to say this has no rhyme or rhythm though!), focus just on that rule. It's not as easy as I originally thought, but it is enjoyable. I never know where I will end up. I usually have a subject in mind, but where it goes is anyone's guess.  Here are two poems I made on Twitter:

Music caresses sensitive ears sending gentle endorphins straight through hallowed dials. Set them.

Formative eras, shaping great territory yet tethered down. Now we enter rejuvenated dimensions supplanting grown notions, scruff.

Short yes, but they stick to the rule, even (what I consider) the hardest rule concerning the first and last words.  With more practice, I'm sure I can make longer poems that are still coherent. The hardest part is that some words are strictly off limits, such as any word beginning with "i", and some words are overrepresented, such as words beginning with "g".  It's a good mental exercise and hopefully will create fascinating poems. I encourage everyone to try!

uv -∫vdu

I'm stuck on a problem, I've run into a wall
Trying different paths, getting nowhere at all.
Reaching my limit, there's only one thing to do.
Gonna try some of that ultraviolet voodoo.

Start the incantations, carefully weave the spell,
take a shot of mojo then see what I can tell.
The thaumaturgy works and I begin to see
the enigmatic riddle unfold before me.

Extracting the answer, the magic leaves my mind
the problem is now solved and I'm no longer blind,
but if I gotta problem, I know what to do.
Gonna try some of that ultraviolet voodoo.

Distance

I've traveled thousands of miles over land and sea,
left the place where we had been together.
But still the memory of you enshrouds my mind.
Your shining eyes and mischievous smile,
streaming black hair and soft skin.
The sound of your voice, the touch of your hands
all lancing my heart and cutting my veins.
Distance is meaningless and offers no amnesia,
but truthfully, do I want to forget you?

Passing Stranger

I walk home on a quiet footpath through the park
And I see you in the distance quietly approaching me.
Your gray hair and nice, sharp clothing spark
in my mind the image of a professor just free
of the labors of researching and teaching.

I may be right, I could be wrong.  I don't pause
to ask "How are you?" or even your name.
I could say that I really have no pressing cause
to know or intrude on your time but all the same
we are still two people walking this country lane.

As you pass, I observe you and questions fill my mind
such as why you are walking with a bike and not riding.
We come to the same spot only to pass by and I find
you are gone from my sight and so from my life.  Hiding
my questions now, I again wander home only now thinking,

"Safe travels passing stranger.  May life be good to you."