Showing posts with label hour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hour. Show all posts

Thursday, September 10, 2020

Poetic Form 58: Pantoum

 

 

Let there be...

At the beginning of the world, when all was dark,

I wish God would have voiced another command,

“Let there be love!” That would have been a better start.

Instead we were given light, seas, and land.


I wish God would have voiced another command.

Say something that would have let us see joy,

instead we were given light, seas, and land.

We walk these hours blind and hurting, smiles only a decoy.


Say something that would have let us see joy,

allow us to fill our counted days with love. Building a life, 

we walk these hours blind and hurting, smiles only a decoy.

It’s not only our backs, but our chests hurt from the knives.


Allow us to fill our counted days with love, building a life. 

Without that command, the sun and moon watch as we all fall.

It’s not only our backs, but our chests hurt from the knives.

Our ears bleed, hands shake, loneliness hurts above all.


Why couldn’t God speak what we needed most these days?

“Let there be love!” That would have been a better start.

Maybe we could have lived a life clear of such an angry blaze,

at the beginning of the world, when all was dark.



Poetic Form #58: Pantoum


The pantoum form is a set of quatrains (4-line stanzas) that starts with an abab rhyme scheme. 

With each quatrain you repeat lines 2 and 4 in the previous stanza as lines 1 and 3 in the next 

stanza, creating a new rhyme scheme. Second stanza would be bcbc.

There are two options for the final quatrain.  You can repeat lines 1 and 3 of the original 

quatrain as lines 2 and 4 in the final quatrain. Another option is to invert lines 1 and 3 so 

that the first line of the poem is also the final line of the poem.

Saturday, April 25, 2020

Poetry Challenge Day 25: Remix


*The prompt today was to remix a poem in some way from the challenge so far.

Last Line


I am awake again, just before the witching hour
The house filled with sounds of slumber
a fan
a radio
and the troubling thoughts in my heart
My mind turns to the written word, 
the poetic muse is stretching in the darkness
Robert Frost once said that a poem should end in wisdom
I think back to the lines this month I’ve written:

… same as this new world
Like we will live forever
...both father and son
You will read the same
Of a room I built for myself
LOVE is…
A sonnet written...
He prayed as her voice faded away
I dream of better days…
Here on earth
...Nobody called.
...For this poet, it cuts like a knife.
“could be someone, be someone, be someone”
My skin warming in their hugs

I’m unsure if Frost would approve
All my words are mirrors for others to see
a reflection of our moments,
shared through my wisdom
The darkness swirls my pain with doubt
Tomorrow will take another day from me
I bring my legs underneath me
as fear makes my chest cold
Tomorrow is another day to my
last line