Eyes almost cobalt, Neil was her blue-eyed boy. Amber with hair to match and a temper on-the ready to flare . Born yellow with jaundice, Sunny lived on to fill the house with laughter. Petal, dear Petal, with parrot eyes and always rescuing animals. Indigo, her daydreamer child, mostly lost in Piscean waters.
She hears their voices in the deep of night. Sees their faces in vibrant colour behind closed eye-lids.
She remembers how they were taken away, one by one, only she can’t remember why.
That must be when the colours started to leave her. Now she sees the world only in monochrome.
Or, perhaps, grays are the only colours in the psychiatric ward.
Another phone composition in the dead of night. Because I’m addicted? All thanks to Rochelle. I blame her 😁😆😂🤣
For today’s NaPoWriMo, I tried out the Chaucerian Stanza, which is a stanza of seven Iambic Pentametre lines. In this stanza the first line rhymes with the third, the second with the fourth and fifth, and the last two lines rhyme together, thus forming a couplet. Also called Rhyme royal, rhyme also spelled rime, in short, it is a seven-line iambic pentameter stanza rhyming ababbcc.
As I enjoy the colours of autumn, it also reminds me to let go of old paradigms, worn and tattered beliefs, past-its-expiry-date relationships, outdated concepts that no longer serve. Yes, it’s hard. For don’t we all love the old and comfy, whether it be things or thoughts. The security blanket of the tried and tested.
Autumn sings hymns of
dissolution. Quiet death.
Spring smiling sleeps.
So, just like trees need to let go of the old and dying, lay bare their branches and go through a period of rest and slumber, for new buds to spring forth and life to begin anew, we need to empty ourselves of the old and outworn, so that life can replenish us with the fresh and the new.