This senryu is for Linda Kruschke’s paint-chip poetry prompt for the week (on the last day), which includes the concept of juxtaposition, which is putting contrasting images next to each other. I wanted to write something longer and possibly less morbid, but here is my response. In fact, I had a wonderful day, so the grim metaphor in this poem itself makes an interesting juxtaposition with my real life. Continue reading
In this post from last week, I shared a picture and 2 poems inspired by it, wondering if I would start a series by reusing some of the lines to write different forms of poetry. Well, here is the next installment of the series: a Shakespearean sonnet (hoping to try a Petrarchian sonnet soon)! Shared with the Writers’ Pantry at Poets and Storytellers United.
The dove of peace brings healing in its wings,
The shining sun comes not so far behind –
A confluence of pinkish hues it beings,
The easier some happiness to find.
The dove of peace reveals itself to men
Although it often seems to’ve been delayed:
It can be shy, and finds its welcome when
True prayers of trust, like little stars arrayed,
Light up the people’s dark thoughts’ sky. Those stars
Provide much comfort when they’re born and rise,
Against despair and woeful words which mar –
With peace past understanding as the prize.
Thenceforth can many faith-filled flowers grow,
No matter which direction the winds blow.
I cannot remember all the scattered pieces,
Each and every fragment of fiber woven,
Twisted, made into this locked and loaded
Container held harrowingly in the hand of some
Demonic monster carrying 300 million people.
Where are we going and why are we in this handbasket?
A safety-orange traffic cone is brighter than day.
Snow blankets the ground, stifling any seedling
Which might emerge from what was once just mud.
Ashes from a campfire dapple snow with gray —
Seedlings push through the greatest of difficulties.
Angels can be made in snow, days made brighter,
Even those ashes speak of happier days gifted —
Some people have a raven’s shadow above their door, never lifted.
Sorry, when I am given “raven” as a prompt word, my mind always goes, “Poe.”
This sonnet was written about 3 weeks ago, shared with DVerse OLN.
The darkness turns to morning, noon to night:
The day is fleeting, fleet-footed and fast,
The sun retreating, sinking out of sight,
Because no single day can for long last.
Remember though: the dark will morning be,
Another day bestows another chance
To see the shining light of verity,
To hear the music yearning for a dance.
Take in refreshing colors of the dawn,
As temperature heats slowly from night’s chill:
It may seem slow, but quickly it is gone,
There is a time to empty and to fill.
The darkness turns, performs a pirouette —
There is a time to follow, and reset.
This is a Costanza poem for the Saturday Mix, also overlapping with MLMM’s Tale Weaver: Confusion. I wrote this tonight in honor of the first Sunday of Advent, the season before Christmas Day. My emotions have been all over the place, but I love Advent, so that is what inspired this poem.
For this and that from MLMM, and for DVerse’s quadrille Monday (not late! just depressing!). I promise I’m not like this all the time in real life. “Possibility” is an optimistic word, and I could have taken it in a positive direction, but that is not what happened. Maybe I will try again later. Anyway, without further ado…. Continue reading