This is a re-post of a ghazal that I wrote a couple of years ago. I am sharing with DVerse for this month’s poetry form.
Saving Two Birds with One Poem :)
Today’s FOWC is Idiom, and I wasn’t sure if it was possible to use the actual word “idiom” in a poem, so I decided to kill two birds with one stone and participate in Fandango’s Flashback Friday. 😀
This is a poem that I posted exactly 5 years ago. The original post is here. I’m grateful for this one. Good job, Jenna from 5 years ago!
When life is hard and full of sorrows,
You hold them in Your hand.
You, who with all grief acquainted,
Are stronger than this world’s sand.
Hold me tightly my dear Savior,
And redeem this day,
May I be safe in the Beloved,
And in Your goodness stay.
Jenna from 5 years ago then adds, “There is always, always hope.”
Something to Remember
I’m having trouble finishing almost all of the poems that I started today, so here is one that I wrote yesterday, no prompt. It is a butterfly cinquain. 🙂
O Heart!
Remember God
Created my being,
The reason for my existence
Unknown —
But Love
Nevertheless keeps on calling,
“Cor ad cor loquitur,” *
In a language
Hidden.
Â
* Latin, “Heart speaks to heart”
Putting Words in Order
One thing that is extremely frustrating for me is when I want to respond to a specific prompt, but I can’t seem to think of anything at all, let alone anything good! Sometimes, I feel stuck and can hardly write anything, with or without a prompt! I didn’t write much today that’s post-able, but here you go, a poem about this frustration:Â
Words and fragments floating in this mind
In a fashion frenzied and unkind —
How difficult to with coherence write,
Before this day sleeps, and turns to night!
A Piece of Bad Poetry
Today, during the women’s group that I am a part of, we did a special guided meditation and prayer. When we were given time to journal about our experience, I wrote several very bad and very short poems because I process things best by writing them in verse. I have decided to share one with you. 🙂 XD
I write a crap-ton of bad poetry.
Because there’s a crap-ton of shit
(Look at how articulate
I am) going on. Sometimes I forget
This life is a gift and the
I AM is behind it.
Exhausting Indecision
This décima is for Ronovan Writes’s prompts this week (street in the C line) and last week (go in the B line) because I did not post one last time.
A thousand possibilities —
So many directions to go
And it’s tough to travel solo.
This does not free but makes her freeze.
Abundant insecurities:
At the intersection where meet
Two roads, how does she know which street
To follow, when there is no map?
The journey already has sapped
Her energy — rest aching feet.
Munchkins!
Inspired by the Sunday Writing Prompt at MLMM (it might be a little too late), “The Little Things.” Also for FOWC: Realm. The other day, I was in my backyard and noticed a beautiful flower, so I took a photo of it. I posted it to Instagram with the caption (in part), “How can you be sad when you are looking at a flower like this?”
Reaching for Beyond
For this week’s Weekly Scribblings at Poets and Storytellers United, we are writing micro-poetry, so I wrote this tanka today.
Longing for my God —
Weeping willow-branch reaching
For what’s out of reach —
Her long hair falling groundward
While the trunk continues strong
Ubi Sunt
This is a free-verse “Ubi Sunt” poem for Linda’s paint-chip poetry prompt. The given words are pictured below the poem. This was inspired by the way that I write so much and so small that I often forget about poems that I have written or where / when I wrote them.
Where are the words erased,
Written lightly in graphite?
Even the words put down in pen
Are difficult to see, crammed
Without pizzazz in tiny spaces,
In need of illumination.
Where are the poems that I
Remember writing, remember liking
But can no longer find,
Buried as they are under years
Of other poem-filled lines?
Rediscovery
Know
A line,
A fragment,
From an old poem,
And the search is quick:
Discovery moving
Memory and heart to weep,
For the person who’d connected
With the plaintive, seeming-timeless lines —
That same person now knows much more deeply.
Panic
Another poem for the Immersion prompt, this time a Rondeau in response to the photo challenge #374 from MLMM. The photo is below and is by Marta Bevacqua.
