ode to spring
day
light lingering
night
rushing toward the dawn
bud-swelled tree tops pop in white, pink, blue
the breeze
warm and fragrant whispers
it’s time…turn your face
to the sun
bid winter adieu
~kat on the first day of spring 2024
A Pi-Prime 11 poem for this first day of Spring!
Pi digits: 3.1415926535. Each digit in the series corresponds to the syllable count for each line starting with 3 for the poem’s title.
a stone’s throw
light
in the distance
where
civilization
blares, where night owls, insomniacs,
under
starless skies, curse the night
I see it clearly
the madness
here, amidst the trees
~kat
A Pi Prime-11 poem is an 11 line poem based on the first 11 digits of Pi with syllable counts for each line based on those digits. The first line is a 3 syllable title. (3.1415926535)
deluded
turn
down the gaslight
please
it keeps me up nights
wondering if i can know the truth
when lies
are so easily spun
repeated over
and over…
no one gives a damn
~kat
It’s March, and geeky me loves a good Pi base when writing a poem.
Here are a few digits of Pi (π).
3.1415926535
For this poem I decided to write an 11-line poem matching the syllable count for each line with the digits of Pi. The 3. is of course the title set apart by the period separating it from the series that follows. And you may have noticed that the line count is 11…a prime number. 😊Im calling this form Pi-Prime. Geek out!
waiting for spring
on the cusp of spring
when the world is damp and bleak
when tall tree limbs
stretch toward the heavens
stripped bare by the fierce
nor’easters of winter
their brittle fingers
clutching air
against the gray
I wonder
what if winter hangs on
and spring never comes?
how easy it is to teeter
on the edge, weary from
long, dark nights, from
the frigid nip of ice-laced
wind against my face
chilling me to the bone
how silly of me to think it
spring always comes
as if on cue
the song of peepers
from the edge of a nearby
creek echoes through the mist
snapping me out of all doubt
settling my wild musing
reassured now, as if…
and I think,
I just may have a few more
springs in me left until
winter wraps me in eternity
just a few more
~kat
the alpha, omega, and mid-summer illusion
she lights the room with her smile,
well-practiced over decades,
a gracious nod, a coy wink, she is
masterful in the art of ladylike-ness,
her voice like silk, never veering
from script, lilt of laughter strategically
slicing through the din of conversation,
charming, ever charming, polite, nice
exuding familiarity, sensuality, chastity…
she’s an illusion, perfection in red lipstick,
powdered porcelain skin, sculpted by shape wear
suffocated by the tyranny of oppressive opinion
maintaining the status quo
keeping the peace
once upon a time she was fierce,
a wild child, smart, inquisitive, intuitive,
magical, a budding creator creature
connected to Gaia, calloused feet
muddied from stream-tripping,
and forging untraveled paths
she hasn’t forgotten the girl
but secretly she loathes her,
deceived by the lies repeated to her
by those she trusted most
years from now
when the porcelain cracks like an eggshell,
she’ll emerge, granted by the fates
the gifts of age and wisdom as she sheds
the chrysalis that has held her through
life’s tempestuous seasons to emerge
fresh-faced, etched by sorrow and joy
body softened, tracked by stretch marks,
age spots, her once glorious golden locks
salted gray, brittle-thin,
oh how she will emerge magnificent
boisterous, full-throated, opinionated
having found her voice…her truth
at long last
the girl will remember spring, come winter
you may find her barefoot, tripping streams,
revisiting paths forged in youth,
where she’ll dance with the fairies,
finally free
count yourself blessed if you glimpse her
take care to listen to her song,
however brief,
like a lullaby in the darkness
holding us until dawn…alpha and omega
with a smattering of lunacy in the in-between
a life full lived, a force of nature
silenced when Gaia calls her home
~kat
like mercury colliding... 