i will never grow weary of this view as the sun sparkles through the trees at dawn
as the sun sparkles through the trees bird song, a cacophony of trills, tweets, and coos
a cacophony of trills, mournful coos rouse me from my bed to start a new day
rouse me from my head it’s a new day how fortunate am here in this place
how fortunate am i how blessed with grace to live amidst such beauty all around
to live amidst such beauty i have found a peace i never knew in the city
a peace i never knew, what a pity it’s taken me so long to find my way
it’s taken me too long but i must say i will never grow weary of this view
~kat
Na/GloPoWriMo 2022 - Day 27 Prompt: write a “duplex.” A “duplex” is a variation on the sonnet, developed by the poet Jericho Brown. Like a typical sonnet, a duplex has fourteen lines. It’s organized into seven, two-line stanzas. The second line of the first stanza is echoed by (but not identical to) the first line of the second stanza, the second line of the second stanza is echoed by (but not identical to) the first line of the third stanza, and so on. The last line of the poem is the same as the first.
Well, I gave this interesting take on the sonnet a go. It was not an easy task. Not sure I’ll be back for another try, but I am always happy to explore this particular subject. After 2-1/2 years in our forever home, I still love it here. We decided not to add window coverings, allowing the green hue from the surrounding trees and natural light to stream in. Of course this also means no sleeping in. The window at the foot of my bed faces due east where the sun rises over Bramlett Mountain just behind my house. Its light through the trees sparkles like diamonds!
an activist judge decreed covid’s end no need to wear masks eat, drink, live your life, be free while the plague mutates, raging
~kat
Na/GloPoWriMo 2022 – Day 26 Prompt: write a poem that contains at least one of a different kind of simile – an epic simile. Also known as Homeric similes, these are basically extended similes that develop over multiple lines.
Off topic…a tanka for today…just a commentary on the lunacy of our times. Science? Reason? Reality? I’m in no hurry to join the lemmings.
one summer’s eve she came to call a moonlit vision peering in rousing me from slumber’s cusp amidst the wooded hollow’s din with eyes of green, face white as snow raven curls from her hooded cloak, cascading, then whispered she, my name it would rude of me i thought to look away, to hide my head instead i rubbed my eyes in case it was a dream…”i’m not” she said “what then, are you, or rather who?” i might as well engage this sprite it’s odd i don’t feel any fright just curious why she happened by before i could ask her she replied, “i am the mounded loam beneath your feet, my voice is sometimes light, a breeze, or birdsong sweet and other times it roars, a tempest swift to rage, my eyes from green turn steel gray i smell of honeysuckles, roses too, lilacs, lavender, and bells of blue my thoughts are many as the stars and every wish you’ve ever wished i keep close, guarded in my heart.” then just like that, the moon behind clouds drifted, she was gone leaving me to wonder if what i saw was real or just my mind slipping ‘tween lucidity and dreaming, yet i felt her cradle me, calmed by her breath, or was it mine, finally i slept
~kat
Na/GloPoWriMo 2022 -Day 25 Pronpt: based on the Aisling, a poetic form that developed in Ireland. An aisling recounts a dream or vision featuring a woman who represents the land or country on/in which the poet lives, and who speaks to the poet about it. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that recounts a dream or vision, and in which a woman appears who represents or reflects the area in which you live.
Merlin will be 100 in cat years in a few short months a mischievous imp he is with fading eyes and random patches of gray, a toothless mouth that pouts when he mews, but he still wears his tuxedo coat like a regal gentleman who dines on pâté while demanding the servitude of his ever-devoted human
(that would be me)
of course i comply to his every whim i’m a sucker for soft fur, and deep rhythmic purrs mesmerized by the dark flecks in his green eyes deep as wells and by the trust implied by his gaze having tested me these twenty-one years
~kat
Na/GloPoWriMo 2022 - Day 24 Prompt: write a poem in which you describe something with a hard-boiled simile. Feel free to use just one, or try to go for broke and stuff your poem with similes till it’s . . . as dense as bread baked by a plumber, as round as the eyes of a girl who wants you to think she’s never heard such language, and as easy to miss as a brass band in a cathedral.
Now I don’t know if my similes are all that, (as mentioned in the examples above), but I did manage to pen a few. They say one should always write what one knowS. I guess you could say I know my subject quite well, like an old friend he is…my gentleman kittie, Merlin.
never send cut flowers to the grieving eventually they wilt wither and die a dismal reminder of their beloved departed
it’s a cruel thing to do don’t you see
but if you must send something green a lovely potted plant filled with buds on the cusp of blooming or a tree one that’s hearty and strong a tribute a celebration of life a reminder that life goes on
~kat
Na/GloPoWriMo2022 Day 23 Prompt: write a poem in the style of Kay Ryan, whose poems tend to be short and snappy – with a lot of rhyme and soundplay. They also have a deceptive simplicity about them, like proverbs or aphorisms.
So it is easier for you to find all the parts/chapters of my ongoing fiction series, I created a new page that lists all the links. You can check it out HERE!
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like mercury colliding... 