I wrote a few sidlak poems over the past few days. This form, which has 4 lines of 3-5-7-9 syllables and concludes with a fifth line that is a color, has been fun. I found out about it from Abigail Gronway, who also wrote a nice one. Shared with the Tuesday Platform.
In a library,
On antique, sturdy table —
I sense the musty smell of old books
Proper meter? Rhyme?
Freedom in form anytime.
Word queen of my poetry world, hued
Oppressing like a devil,
A cardboard box, sent, undelivered:
A shadorma, shared with the Tuesday platform.
Obscure my vision,
But I know
You are there —
These tears are the salty veil
Through which you see me.
For Forgiving Fridays and also shared with the Tuesday platform.
Forgiveness is a blessing to the land;
The starless night makes it invisible,
But at the sunrise one will understand.
Indeed forgiving acts are laudable
Yet even more, they from the darkness pull
The hardened grudge-filled heart, to soon set free
The person stuck in bitterness — softly.
Love, my dear, is Heaven-sent:
Your irresistible kiss makes my eyes
Turn rapture blue, and I feel
Right as rain under this clear sky —
A nor’easter is coming, I know it.
At Real Toads, we are writing artistic interpretations based on the names of colors of paint. The ending is pessimistic, but I still like how this turned out.
This is another ghazal, so I am sharing it with DVerse and also with the Tuesday Platform (even though it is Wednesday).
How wonderful it is to make music.
Remember still to sing, do not forsake music.
Voices of the choir rise to the sky,
It comes straight from the heart, this is no fake music.
Even completing chores around the house,
When cooking, mix ingredients and bake music.
Another year has gone, we celebrate
With sweetness special birthday-cake music.
And here comes fall. No fermata on the days
Red leaves tumbling, we rake music.
Cold winter comes, and birds migrate:
This Sparrow packs nothing but can take music.
For Real Toads’ portrait challenge, I took inspiration from a photo taken just before my graduation.
She’s standing tall, smiling wide,
White tassel not yet on the left side,
Black mortarboard covering brown hair,
Bangs for once out of her blue eyes —
She enjoys this moment feeling surprised
She made it through, with friends too,
Feelings of relief, pride, and true joy bloom.
She has climbed many hills
And mountains, in quick
Succession, sinking soon to
Valleys — wishing for
Flat land, release:
But must everything be
Symbolic? The depth might
Be a bit myopic, for
Are not hills beautiful?
Is not flat land beautiful?
And even the valleys, are
They not verdant, when
One looks to see the whole?
Shared with the Tuesday Platform at Real Toads.
Blown by winds but not torn
Apart, due to a
Strong base of love, which is
An acrostic poem inspired by today’s One-Word challenge, which is “base” and just one word.
This is basically Psalm 80 rewritten as a sonnet. Shared with the Tuesday platform at Real Toads.
O God of hosts, come bring us back again,
Save us with light shining from Your face,
Why do You frown upon our plea? Soften
Your gaze, and every sorrow please efface.
As bread we have been given tears to eat,
And still more salty tears to be our drink,
We feel from enemies naught but defeat
As day by day our souls more and more shrink.
You planted a vine out of Egypt’s land,
Let boars and beasts ravage the vine no more!
Listen, give life and strength with Your right hand,
We call upon Your name and now implore!
Defeat and destitution now oppress,
But we believe in lasting happiness.
For this prompt in the Imaginary Garden, where we are taking inspiration from Ezra Pound.
Blue journal dappled with gold —
Expansive stars in a midnight sky
Photo of my journal by the author