Day 14 PAD 2023

 

Poem for day 14 of the poem a day challenge. Prompts form Writer's Digest.

April Poetry Challenge 2021: Day Twelve

 

Day 12 Prompt: Six Words (convict, great, play, race, season, and voice)

Form: Sestina

“Messed up the Lines”

The gavel came down hard. He was convicted

of all the things he did, small and great.

He was silent, he had no lines for this play.

He was too tired from the race

he had been running for 200 seasons.

He only wished he could hear her voice 

one last time. His name plus her voice 

arrested his heart. Love convicted

him during a winter season

many years ago. She lead him to great

heights on paths they walked while others raced 

by them. Building a new stage, they wrote a new play.

A supporting cast ad-libbed lines during the play, 

but moved on as they found their own voice. 

Time kept the pace for the race

they ran together. Her love convicted 

his heart with joy, but all the great 

stories have a dark season.

It wasn’t Love’s fault, new seasons 

are built from the past, the play

between memories and questions are great 

forces that bellow a devastating voice

that splinters stages. The conviction 

of not enough led him on a spirit filled race. 

There is no string at the end of a race 

to empty the bottles with icons of seasons 

on the label. No conviction

of the soul can out play 

the way shot glasses change a man’s voice. 

He learned that all can fall from great

heights. How he missed the great

room they would sit in after a day’s race.

Her hands warm in his, her voice 

seductive like a spring season.

They would watch life play 

out before them. Together convicted.

He hangs his head, convicted of great

and small lines in a play he would race 

back to the debut season to hear her voice.

Poetic Form 13: List Poem

I Still Believe

Even when the world is screaming outside the door

Testing my resolve

Challenging my faith of this world

Expressing an ideology that is disheartening

I still believe in the beauty of this life

Because I see it

    in the faded photos and concert tickets in my wallet

    in the blooms of flowers in the park

    in the wave from a stranger as I drive

I still believe in the beauty of this life

Because I hear it

    in the laughter at the dinner table

    in the new music suggested by a friend

    in the bedtime stories I read to my children

I still believe in the beauty of this life

Because I feel it

    in the grasp of my wife’s hand

    in the sun’s heat in the afternoon

    in my head as a poem unfolds onto the page

I still believe in the beauty of this life

Because I smell it

    in the aroma of blueberry muffins

    in the storm early in the morning

    in the new pair of shoes for my growing children

I still believe in the beauty of this life

Because I taste it

    in the ice cream my daughter shares with me
in my morning cup of coffee

    in the sweat from losing another game of one-on-one

   

I still believe

It allows me to open my front door

to the the beauty of this world

Poetic Form #13: List Poem

A list poem has a list as the foundation of its structure. There are no other hard rules to the form.

Poetic Form 3: Skeltonic Verse

To the Young Voices

Set the mic a blaze

with words that wave

and crash against 

the shores of pretense

Nothing more or less

than a voice intense

with the rhythm of pain

mixed with a story main

that calls for a tomorrow

filled with love instead of sorrow

Walk tall, we will follow

Words have power

to raise towers

that allow everyone a view

of a world we strive to

Where friendship is me and you

not dictated by unwritten rule

So set that pen to paper

Build a skyscraper

Truth won’t wait until later

We need your talent on stage

and street, love too can rage

Poetic Form #3: Skeltonic Verse

This form is named after the English poet, John Skelton (c. 1463 - 21 June 1529). The rules are simple. Lines are short with a couple of stresses. The rhymes are irregular. Alliteration and parallelism are used often in this form.

These Words

Let these words wash over your dirty hands

    Cleansing the world from your life lines

Let these words flood your covered ears

    Drowning out the pollution from your prayers

Let these words blind your watery eyes

    Dilating your vision to a single meaning

These words are more than my breath crossing through vocal cords

    They are bread crumbs for you to follow

        as you walk past the witch's home

            chimney billowing smoke

            door open so you can hear her mumbling about

            how she will get you someday

But not today

Not at this moment

These words were once mine

they are yours now

Meant for you to consume

To savor

To break off a piece

and share with someone who is hungry, too

   

        Just remember that I wrote them for your happiness...