A little rhyming story for FOWC: Simpatico and Ronovan’s dĂ©cima prompt. 🙂
I was the new girl in the town;
He approached when I wore a frown
And sat alone, his friendly face
Pushed loneliness out of that place.
Through years and every up and down,
Time allowed our friendship to grow.
I found him quite simpatico,
But something happened I still grieve:
Without a warning he did leave,
Where he is now I do not know.
I wrote this dĂ©cima today for Ronovan’s dĂ©cima challenge, this week using the word KIND, and will share it with DVerse open-link night also.
Your boat is not the only one;
To suffering do not be blind
See with the heart, choose to be kind,
Share of your access to the sun.
One day’s work doesn’t mean it’s done:
People’s circumstances crumble.
But if your world starts to rumble
Those you’ve helped can help you also,
With value of friendships that grow,
Detached from money, and humble.
This is a dĂ©cima for this week’s challenge, BIRD.
Avian calls are each day heard
Around this house, even indoors:
Heavily, light melody pours,
Each morning it’s freshly offered.
Hiding in trees’ branches, a bird
Decides it must sing me awake,
The gentlest alarm — I take
Its urgent notes to heart, and stand,
A hopeful morning close at hand —
A happy being, at daybreak.
Ronovan Writes’ dĂ©cima prompt: true + FOWC: Assume, multiplied by current events = this poem.
A metaphysical earthquake:
The world is not what it had been,
Taken for granted so often.
The way of life we’d known did shake
Quickly, with sanity at stake.
Truthfulness of media’s view
We can’t assume — what do we do?
Looking into each other’s eyes,
Kindness can come a great surprise,
Can hope something, at least, is true.
This is for MLMM’s Tale Weaver prompt and this week’s dĂ©cima challenge, where we are supposed to use the word “wind” in the B rhyme spot. Follow the links for more info!Â
The close of day is no dead end:
Though the path out may wend and wind,
The pinkish dawn is ripe to find
A better way, and hope, to tend.
The close of day is wont to send
Symbolic messages of fear;
Ignore that siren-song and steer
Away from treacherous creatures.
Nightmares to dreams: morning features
New rosiness of life to cheer.
This is a dĂ©cima for Ronovan’s challenge this week. The word he gives us is “story.”
Little girl’s creativity
Knows no bounds, fears not even seen,
She’s not learned to be timid, mean
To herself — she writes her story.
Perhaps it is written poorly,
Yet its adorable delight
Is evident; and she just might
One day become a great author,
Though some underestimate her:
Growth in imagination’s sight.
It is already the tenth décima challenge from Ronovan, and this is my offering.
The world today’s a messy place:
It seems impossible to clean,
So in the rubble we must glean
Glinting sunlight learn to embrace.
Now at a dizzying pace
Confusion makes more mess: often
We think it’s figured out, and then
Does anything make any sense?
We know there will be recompense
But we are impatient for when.
This is a DĂ©cima for this week’s challenge. It was also partially inspired by today’s Writers’ Pantry, to which I am linking. Also linked to FOWC: Ordinary.
There is some good worth fighting for,
Even if we don’t know what’s next
Watching video, reading text
Cause fears to multiply and pour.
Yet I know, in my deepest core,
Beauty in ordinary hours
Might be tiny, yet overpow’rs
Somehow, despite the hard struggle.
It’s the moments that make life full,
This is quite a time: It is ours.
I decided to share this dĂ©cima for Ronovan’s challenge, despite not being 100% happy with it. It’s pretty bleak, but that’s what kind of head-space I’ve been in: like, “If God is going to destroy the world now, can He get it over with?” Also sharing with this week’s MLMM photo challenge because the photo and poem are related. Apologies to Robert Frost for the title.
God said He’d never Earth entire
Destroy with rain, and that is why
The rainbow arcs across the sky –
But He said nothing about fire.
When will the Earth become a pyre,
Is there a method to avoid?
Repent, that we be not destroyed.
Of course we pray our rosary,
Yet despair haunts me doggedly:
What hell is this, Fauci to Floyd?
I combined two prompts for this poem, Linda’s paint-chip poetry for the week and also Ronovan’s DĂ©cima challenge using “dream.” I hope this is good because I wrote 4 or 5 dĂ©cimas in the past few days but didn’t feel confident sharing any of them.
Saxophone solo, smooth as dreams,
Piano keys accompany —
Both ebony and ivory —
Talent rare as saffron, it seems.
Courage in a lion heart gleams:
New life imbued into spirit,
Rocking the boat but fine with it,
The boat was sinking anyway.
A living spring will gush today:
Music shall play, songs not tacet.
