The Spring Wind (a rondeau)

springwind

The spring wind can’t stop it’s blowing.
It winds through trees like thread sewing.
Watch it: stitching for hours and hours,
piece a blanket of bright flowers,
to be washed in gentle spring showers.

This breeze blows softly, keeps going,
and the green grass starts it’s growing.
It has such magical powers,
the spring wind.

I’m sitting here fairly glowing,
long past the toil of our sowing.
Underneath a tree that towers,
in this lovely garden, ours,
such gratitude I’m now owing,
the spring wind.

ABOUT:

For today’s prompt, write a weather poem. A weather poem can be a poem about a hurricane or tornado; it can be a poem about the weatherperson; it can be a poem about forgetting an umbrella on a rainy day; it can be big; it can be small; etc.

POETIC FORM: THE RONDEAU:

The rondeau is comprised of 15 lines across 3 stanzas with the first word or phrase from the first line represented as a refrain (R) and a rhyme scheme of 2 rhymes throughout (A and B). The rhyme and refrain scheme looks like this:

A (R)
A
B
B
A

A
A
B
R

A
A
B
B
A
R

The A and B lines are usually 8 or 10 syllables in length. The refrain is usually 1 to 3 words (or so).

FOR MORE SEE: http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/personal-updates/poetic-forms-rondeau

LINK TO PROMPT:

http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/2014-april-pad-challenge-day-18

My Love: A Lament

helovesmenot

My love for you used to drip from my fingers,
to hide in the thick, deep folds of my skirt.
It used to soak every thread and trail
behind me like a wild raging river.
My love for you used to infuse my every breath,
drawn deep into lungs so thirsty for your air.
I could not imagine choking to breathe on
an atmosphere where you don’t exist.

My Love.

My love for you used to spill across these pages
in dark ink, in clever words and rich phrases,
to fill my head with rhyme and music,
until I felt your pulse in my blood.
My love for you used to carry me buoyant, floating,
head above water, lifting me higher on wings,
until I could fly, nearly touch the pockets of
silvery dust on the surface of the moon.

My Love.

My love for you used to know no earthly boundaries,
used to be celebration, a feast to make us drunk.
When midnight chimed, I flew home smiling,
counting the hours until we touched again.
My love  for you used to be a flood, a pulsing ocean.
We used to be children, dancing in its waves.
My love was not minimized, not measured
and found too much, or toxic to your life.

My Love.

My love for you is now meted out in teaspoons,
stirred carefully into your coffee – no spilling,
metered until I have more in my pockets,
than you have enough cups to hold.

ABOUT:

Image credit:  http://www.all-hd-wallpapers.com/wallpaper/abstract/perfume/276548