berries on the vine
cold nip in the airs
summer softly fading
blossoms bursting seed
tree boughs gently rustle
baring their souls
as the nights grow long
full moon lingering, come dawn
~kat
Brought out the Nature Poet Kit magnets today. It is a gorgeous, sunny, cool day. But dusk is coming too soon.
the unraveling
the tapestry is unraveling
earthy tones of brown and
tan, yellow and red fading,
white patches soiled from
blood and tears, offering no
warmth, no consolation,
threads splintering, breaking
unable to hold together the
dreams of the innocents
wrapped in it like a shroud…
where are the seamstresses
with steady hands and nimble
fingers, trembling with needles,
eyes too narrow to thread, to
mend the tatters, to scrub
the fabric clean, to restore
the tapestry, or better yet,
to weave a new cloth, one
that is brilliant, softened
with batting, large enough
to cover all who slumber,
to shield us from nightmares,
from the darkest of nights,
to bring us safely to the dawn
we’re hanging by a thread
tossed by tempests, trembling,
chilled to our bones
while the world burns
~kat
Crawling out from under my rock. Sorry for my recent silence. I confess that I have been overwhelmed of late by what’s happening to our brothers and sisters of color, to those sick and dying from the pandemic, from the lies of our leaders, from the hate ravaging our streets, disturbing the ardent pleas of peaceful protesters, from sheltering in (sheltering…what a benign word…sheltering). I have struggled to find words, forgetting that it is words that save me from the abyss; that help me get out of my head. I hope everyone is staying safe and well. I hope…at least I am trying to even as the dawn seems so very far away. Peace ✌️
when the sun ceases
when no sound is heard
when the moon and the stars
sigh in melancholy, mournful silence
when, in sleep, earth forgets to bloom
remember to breathe
let not sorrow cloud your happiness
~kat
A blackout poem based on this lovely poem by Anne Plato.
Forget Me Not
Ann Plato
When in the morning’s misty hour,
When the sun beams gently o’er each flower;
When thou dost cease to smile benign,
And think each heart responds with thine,
When seeking rest among divine,
Forget me not.
When the last rays of twilight fall,
And thou art pacing yonder hall;
When mists are gathering on the hill,
Nor sound is heard save mountain rill,
When all around bids peace be still,
Forget me not.
When the first star with brilliance bright,
Gleams lonely o’er the arch of night;
When the bright moon dispels the gloom,
And various are the stars that bloom,
And brighten as the sun at noon,
Forget me not.
When solemn sighs the hollow wind,
And deepen’d thought enraps the mind;
If e’er thou doest in mournful tone,
E’er sigh because thou feel alone,
Or wrapt in melancholy prone,
Forget me not.
When bird does wait thy absence long,
Nor tend unto its morning song;
While thou art searching stoic page,
Or listening to an ancient sage,
Whose spirit curbs a mournful rage,
Forget me not.
Then when in silence thou doest walk,
Nor being round with whom to talk;
When thou art on the mighty deep,
And do in quiet action sleep;
If we no more on earth do meet,
Forget me not.
When brightness round thee long shall bloom,
And knelt remembering those in gloom;
And when in deep oblivion’s shade,
This breathless, mouldering form is laid,
And thy terrestrial body staid,
Forget me not.
“Should sorrow cloud thy coming years,
And bathe thy happiness in tears,
Remember, though we’re doom’d to part,
There lives one fond and faithful heart,
That will forget thee not.”
This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on August 2, 2020 by the Academy of American Poets.
little piggies at the market – a rant
when you refuse to wear a mask
and stand too close to me in line
I bite my tongue and bide the time
and mumble to myself, ‘you ass’
is courtesy too much to ask,
or kindness, manners? what the hell!
who made you special, huh? do tell!
it’s freedom, liberty you prize
no matter who gets sick or dies
i wish…no that’s not nice…you well
~kat
For today’s challenge at RonovanWrites, a Décima where the word PRIZE must be one of the D line words. Then the other D line(s) word(s) must rhyme with PRIZE.
A Décima is a 10-line poem with 8 syllables per line. The rhyme pattern is: abbaaccddc. Further study of this form indicates that the subject matter of a Décima tends to be more socially conscious than some poems, taking on topics such as philosophy, politics, dogma, and religion. It can also be in the form of satire, criticism or insulting to an enemy/opponent in a situation.
Sometimes you break the rhyme into two stanzas using the following rhyme pattern.
abba/ccddc
In Too Deep – A Décima
I’ll never say I told you so
there is no pleasure being right
no gloating glare from me, despite
the fact I warned of this…you know.
We’re in too deep, we’ve sold our soul.
The piper’s ruse, out of control,
devours all that’s decent whole,
leaving destruction in its wake.
Now with our very lives at stake
ignorance knows no bounds, it grows.
~kat
Decided to give this a go. It’s a new poetry form, the Décima, and a new challenge from RonovanWrites. This week’s prompt word is Grow (C rhyme line).
A Décima is a 10-line poem with 8 syllables per line. The rhyme pattern is: abbaaccddc. Further study of this form indicates that the subject matter of a Décima tends to be more socially conscious than some poems, taking on topics such as philosophy, politics, dogma, and religion. It can also be in the form of satire, criticism or insulting to an enemy/opponent in a situation.
like mercury colliding... 