Today’s poem for NaPoWriMo.
Category Daily
Glad
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.
NaPoWriMo 26 – Kennings
For day 26, some kennings. Bjorn at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads presented the concept of Kennings. Or compound noun combinations.
My impromptu attempt 🙂
~~~
A leaf-fall. A leaf
falls on to the forest floor.
Beyond that, silence.
~~~
A heart-knock. Someone
knocks on my heart boarded up.
Beyond that, silence.
~~~
A tune-lilt. Lilting
tunes slowly take me apart.
Beyond that, silence.
~~~
A death-wish. Dying
to the past my only wish.
Beyond that, silence.
~~~
NaPoWriMo 25 – Silence
For NaPoWriMo day 25, a question
SILENCE – haiku
Silence always taunts
me with this one question,
what are you doing here?
~~~
NaPoWriMo 24 – Caves
For NaPoWriMo day 24, a confession –
CAVES – haiku
I found there are caves
in my heart I didn’t know about.
There be demons.
~~~
NaPoWriMo 23 – Autumn
For day 23, a haibun.
AUTUMN
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autumn, it also reminds me to let go of old paradigms, worn and tattered beliefs, past-its-expiry-date relationships, outdated concepts that no longer serve.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.
~~~
NaPoWriMo 22 – Homecoming
For NaPoWriMo 22, a poem celebrating Earth Day.
Homecoming – tanka
It is always pure
pleasure. Walking on grass, leaves,
the bare-bodied earth.
As though my body-soul knows
it has come home to Mother.
~~~
NaPoWriMo 11 – You
For day 11, love talk.
You – tanka
The moon it seemed had
lit up the wings of the wind
pale ebullience
but my soul knows it is You.
Everywhere I go it’s You.
***
NaPoWriMo 10 – Escape
For day 10, some moontalk.
Escape – tanka
The sickle moon hung
there like a fallen question.
How do I escape
the safety of gravity
for the nothingness of space?
***
NaPoWriMo 9 – A fragment of a dream
For day 9, a sweet, sad poem on a dream I saw the other day –
A terse dream this was,
broken, anguished, blurred,
of which a fragment remains
in my memory, embedded.
A wayward bullet strikes
at lightning speed your chest,
passing through it spears,
calmly, through my breast.
Locked in a gaze we stand,
as love flows out the wounds.
Caught tight in death’s hand
as the dream softly fades.
On waking, for long I ponder;
did our souls our bodies flee
at the same moment, together?
Did they merge to become free?
Did pain set our insides afire?
Is sorrow the bullet that incinerates,
torching our ignorance, our desire,
and into freedom thus liberates?
~~~
