Rep(o)etition

(Get it? Like, rePOETition?)

Anyway, evidently I just needed to switch the prompts for poems eight and nine, because after my nine-liner I have designed my next poem to rely on repetition, as per Day 8’s challenge.

I actually started this one from some previous lines in my journal, but really only the following draft is necessary:

in august

 

And the cleaner cut of poem # 9:

 

In August I’ll remember
the scent you wore today:
you floated in on April’s breath,
a simple, sweet bouquet.

In August I’ll remember
the passion in your tears
that sang across the thirsty roofs
and danced into my ears.

In August I’ll remember
the tingle on my skin:
your cool embrace around my arms
allayed the warmth within.

In August I’ll remember
the color in your skies
that bled beyond horizons and
the borders of my eyes.

In August I’ll remember
the craving of your kiss:
the taste of milk and honeyed lips
that bound my tongue to bliss.

In August I’ll remember
the wheel will turn anew:
my senses will await the day
that I return to you.

 

I’m normally not quite as fond of spring as this work might suggest, but I figured if I focus on the silver lining, maybe my face won’t hurt as much from all of the allergens… Not to mention that it will probably be worse to suffer under┬áthe Texas summer sun when it rolls out. Anyway, thanks for reading ­čÖé

Flowers and Towers

I had an idea for some poetic inspiration: find some blank greeting cards with some form of artwork, and write poems based on those images. I think I’ll go as far as to write the finished poems inside the cards, and then leave the cards in some public area for a passerby to mull over. Anyway, here’s the card/image with my journal draft:

poem five yin and yang

And the final iteration of poem number five, each stanza comprised of a lune (five words, three words, and five words per line, respectively – a form which I’ve played with before):

Yin and Yang

Iron pride and beauty dance
in naked space
and give themselves unto creation.

What might we do ourselves
to find peace
between worlds unreconciled and lonely?

Man may raise his towers
but towers fall
and spring blossoms come again.

 

Artwork by Georgianna Lane.

Eostre Aria

While I definitely want to return to NaPoWriMo’s suggested Sapphics prompt from day eleven, I felt moved to write a pantoum for spring today (throwback to last year?)

Here’s the draft:

eostre aria

And the cleaned-up version:

.

Tiny voices sing in clicks and purrs
outside my window, a timeless chant
enshrined in sacred spring
when muddy faces are washed clean.

Outside my window, a timeless chant
of waking, wanting, and hoping,
when muddy faces are washed clean,
stirs the sensuous.

Of waking, wanting, and hoping
I can sing, too; an echo of the season
stirs the sensuous
within me, rising to a cry.

I can sing, too, an echo of the season
bathing in rain and passion
within me, rising to a cry,
an ─ĺostre aria treading cool water.

Bathing in rain and passion,
tiny voices sing in clicks and purrs
an ─ĺostre aria, treading cool water,
enshrined in sacred spring.

.

As a side note, I’ve discovered something about my writing habits by recording the hand-written drafts in my journal: when I want to change something, usually something I’ve just written down, my first instinct is to erase the previous word or phrase completely instead of simply crossing it out. Each time I catch myself, I rewrite the original text and cross it out, then continue with the new so as to preserve all of the poem’s creative elements. I find it interesting that my old habits are so destructive, albeit on a small scale, but this experiment in hand-written drafts has certainly been helpful. Maybe I should graduate to pens, as they are much more permanent than pencil the first time…