The prompt for today was in honor of today being the 22nd day of Na/GloPoWriMo 2022, and they challenged me to write a poem that used repetition. I was invited to repeat a sound, a word, a phrase, or an image, or any combination of things.
So, here you go fellow poetry loving friends. Not as repetitious as some poems I’ve written, but there is that element throughout.
Happy Weekend to you!
The Owl Sees
Where the mind ends, the owl sees— through Ominous golden eyes It breathes in stealth and exhales darkness gliding through blue-black skies. Underneath the fern unfurls, shivers in the windy wake.
Where the mind ends, the owl sees— with certainty of vision and a clarity of mind; she free falls into the darkness, her mournful cry resounding into the boundless cosmos.
Where the mind ends, the owl sees— the wilderness unconstrained, the weeping child whose wailing seeps into the warping twilight. Inside echos of sadness the owl and child grieve as one.
The prompt for today was to write a fourteener. Fourteeners can have any number of lines, but each line should have fourteen syllables. Traditionally, each line consists of seven iambic feet (i.e., an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable, times seven). The fourteener was popular in 16th and 17th century England, where it was particular common in ballads.
My brain was tired and fourteens didn’t come easily today. Actually, not much came easily today; so instead, I wrote my fourteener in two lines of 8 and 6, and then I strung them together and shaped them into quatrains. Since the lines also equal fourteen, I’m going to call this a win.
It’s not exactly the prompt, but I still had fun writing it. The visuals were taken from my memories of traveling to places that looked just like this one in the picture.
The full moon watched from western sky as stars began to fade,
and ghosts rose from the water smooth and danced within the glade.
The wispy trails of dancing tails hung low beneath the trees
and disappeared into the sun who smiled with rapturous ease.
The glass that looked like honey comb glowed rosy in the light,
the dawn breathed a collective breath preparing to ignite.
For past and present intertwined to weave their tapestry—
a strand of golden thread shone through glinting with majesty.
And hope was whispered on the breeze so boisterous the mirth,
the favored queen now labored hard anticipating birth.
Just as morning broke into day the princess graced the land.
born to rule with joy and wisdom— compassion now at hand.
And so the kingdom all rejoiced with grateful dignity;
peace settled deep within their bones: Welcome sweet Charity.
-A Draft by Carla Jeanne Picklo Jordan
May your day be filled with anticipation, joy, and sweet charity.