she quells the dark night i need you to be present nutty and sweet bend the truth a bit intoxicating serving strangers for pennies we were close once who will feed the birds when i’m gone a dismal reminder deep as wells my thoughts are many as the stars while the plague mutates, raging a peace i never knew, what a pity to let go of i was a strange one some would say Forever – is composed of Nows –
It’s Sunday, and time to do a wrap up of this year’s Na/GloPoWriMo Challenge with a ReVerse poem! since I already covered the first half of April a few Sundays ago, this week’s ReVerse will close out the second half. Happy May to you! 🌷🌱🌻🌼🌸🌺💐🌹
A ReVerse poem (a practice I started many years ago) is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time.
For my final entry in this year’s poetry month challenge I gleaned some lines from a literary favorite of mine, Emily Dickerson. I can’t believe I made it through the whole month after such a long dry spell. Needless to say I am so very happy to be back!
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
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!
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
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.
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