The Road – a Byr a Thoddaid poem

I hear its voice at the window.
Siren songs it sings in the willow.
The road keeps calling — echoes on the wind,
and winds on until dawn.
—–
POETIC FORM:
Byr a Toddaid – a 4-line stanza Welsh form consisting of a single quatrain or a series of quatrains, each divided into 2 combined couplets.  One couplet is 2 lines, eight syllables each with an AA end rhyme. The other couplet is 2 lines, one with 10 syllables and an end rhyme NEAR the end, and the other line with 6 syllables with a link to the end word of the 10 syllable line, then an end rhyme that corresponds to the end rhyme in the same 10 syllable line. The link is near the front of the 6 syllable line, and can be rhyme, alliteration or some other clever device to link the two words.  Couplets can alternate, so there are 2 main options indicated in the outline a below:
Option. 1:
xxxxxxxA
xxxxxxxA
xxxxxxxBxc
xcxxxB
Option 2:
xxxxxxxAxb
xbxxxA
xxxxxxxC
xxxxxxxC
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New Feathers – A Quatern Poem

 
I hope to fly, perhaps I’ll fall.
I’ve got new feather’s coming in.
They strain my shoulders, itch my skin.
I feel off balance, wearing thin.
 
It’s a growing season, you see?
I hope to fly, perhaps I’ll fall.
and no one knows it more than me.
This life is not always carefree.
 
We each must stretch, must reach and grow.
Although difficult winds may blow–
I hope to fly, perhaps I’ll fall.
The struggle’s worth it all, I know.
 
Before I leap, I understand–
I’ve got you here, to hold my hand.
I’ll make the jump, as I have planned.
I hope to fly, perhaps I’ll fall.
 
—–
 
POETIC FORM:
 
A quatern is 16 lines broken into 4 quatrains. Each line has 8 syllables. 1st line is refrain. In 2nd stanza, refrain appears in 2nd line; 3rd stanza, 3rd line; 4th stanza, 4th (and final) line. No rhyme scheme.
 
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Good Morning, Gorgeous

boots truck (2)

Good morning, gorgeous!
Your day is waiting for you–
see the way the morning sun
wraps her arms around you,
and the coffee in your cup
spills out laughter with you?

Grab your boots, put them on
They are waiting too —
to give your feet direction,
foundation for standing strong.

Look! The road ahead unravels
offering purpose and adventure,
while the wind lends you music
to sing you there and back again.

Good morning, beautiful!
The world waits for you–
Go and be amazing, please!
And when your work is done
your compass heart is waiting too
–she’ll lead you right back home.

—–

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Escape to Neverland (a #NaPoMo #APRPAD rondeau poem)

2016-04-19-13.17.30.png.png

She said lost boys like her are free.
She smiled at me, offered her hand,
invited me to Neverland.
I asked myself how this could be.

She promised me that love’s the key.
This kind of thing happens, unplanned.

She said lost boys like me are free.
She smiled at me and squeezed my hand.

Behind her eyes I found the sea.

We flew and left behind dry land,
straight on till dawn, past two stars, and

I’ll never be the same — not me,
because lost boys like us are free!

—–

#NaPoMo INFO:

Poetic Asides #April Poem-A-Day Challenge – PAD #9:

For today’s prompt, write a hide out poem. When I was a kid, we’d build “hide outs,” I guess from our parents or other kids. An assortment of criminals (fictionalized and real) have their hide outs. But maybe there are other hide outs, like a “man cave,” “she shed,” or the local pub. Heck, maybe it’s the library. Give it a thought, and I’m sure you’ll find the right hide out poem for you.

http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/2016-april-pad-challenge-day-9

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POETIC FORM INFO:
The poetic form focus for my PAD 2016 Challenge is the Rondeau — 13 lines in 3 stanzas; rhyme scheme: ABba/abAB/abbaA (uppercase letters are refrains) Usually 8 syllables per line. For info: http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/personal-updates/help-me-rondeau-help-help-me-rondeau-another-french-poetic-form

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Love Songs (a somonka)

windowmorning

 

The sun is singing
love songs outside my window.
The trees join in,
harmonizing in the breeze.
Can you hear them, where you are?

The songs you’re hearing,
I whispered to the morning
— sent them to you on
the wings of a small blackbird
— cries, of my lust and wanting.

—–

POETIC FORM:

The somonka is a Japanese form. In fact, it’s basically two tankas written as two love letters to each other (one tanka per love letter). This form usually demands two authors, but it is possible to have a poet take on two personas. Click here for a refresher on the tanka.

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Siren Song

match

 

Your ears ring with amber warnings
as the western horizon pulses orange.
The eastern sky wears a shroud of haze.

Dancing widdershins ’round the house,
The wind chants incantations through cracks,
spills in smoky pools beneath the doors.

These walls and floors breathe in —
barrel-chested men with wet burlap
fists — breathe out, beating back flames.

You lean against the upstairs window
silhouetted by sunset scorching distant hills.
Copper flames reel and stagger in your eyes.

When you turn to me, they sear my skin.
All the heat in my body rises meeting yours —
and invites you, with ink-singed fingers:

Come lie with me, as our flesh burns.
Let smoke fill your lungs, clear your head
of the spinning vertigo that haunts your soul.

 

—–

 

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advice from e.e. cummings

climbing

*on a day when i face my climb alone,
a beloved poem by e.e cummings
can say everything i need to hear.
this is my response:

advice from e.e. cummings

run to the woods
for the sun is warm
he said, “trees are their roots
and wind is wind’

so, when you feel alone
climbing your mountain
you can “trust your heart
if the seas catch fire”

you’re surrounded by strength
you are loved by many,
so “live by love
though the stars walk backward”

the words of a fool
will lose their power in truth
while you ‘dance your death
away at this wedding’

———-

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Ink – a love poem

Murmuration_FINAL

You are blood-ink that spills across my paper,
stains these trembling-too-much fingers,
bruises my swollen lips and tastes like
summer wind, in all those 4:00 a.m. trees.

You first came, book in hand, sipping coffee.
Stories dripped steadily from your chin.
I watched hungrily, as your mouth bled,
gulped the words, like a river bed long-dry.

You’ve been here, spilling stories–
for one-hundred-and-fifty-six days.
I’ll sit beside you fifteen thousand more,
my heart wide — a blackbird’s throat.

I can’t quench my thirst for your words.
They cry in my chest — a winged cacophony.
Ink rages in my veins, and I’ll bleed out fast
— a murmuration, whirling from my pen.

—–

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Tethered – After Rise Against, Satellite (a golden shovel poem)

hawk
I will always be beside you. I’m 
sure you know by now, as the world is passing 
in it’s blur, you will catch me looking over 
at you, smiling to remind you 
that you are my choice– like 
a child chooses the green ball from a
red topped dispenser. — I’ll be your satellite 
spin around in your own space. So 
don’t worry with my need to fly– you won’t catch 
me slipping free of my jesses. You’ll find me 
at the end of these leather leads, and if 
you always want me, I always promise
will dive from the sky — trust you to catch me as I fall. 
———-
POETIC FORM:
golden shovel – Take a line (or lines) from a poem you like. Use each word as an end word in your poem. Keep the end words in order. Credit the original poet, ie. “-after (poet)”.
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POEM A DAY NOVEMBER 2015 – PROMPT:
For today’s prompt, write an open letter poem.
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