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Archive for April, 2017

NaPoWriMo April 4

3-6-9-12 pattern poem

Impending Storm on Patio

Sky grows purple.
Like a deep, painful, muscle bruise.
Must have fallen down the stairs but when? bruise.
Thunder throbs in the distance; I write faster before the storm hits.

Birds fall silent.
The heavy air is still, waiting.
A single warning note rings from the wavering chimes.
Suddenly, golden light flares below the lowering cloud deck in the west.

Thunder rumbles, growling.
The neighbor calls her kids inside.
Instantly, silver rain sheets down two streets over.
Blasting wind bends the fragile saplings; green leaves torn by driving drops.

I flee inside.
The rain drums against the glass.
Lightning splits dark clouds, thunder booms like cannon fire.
The storm passes, settling into a gentle, steady rain, waking spring flowers.

 

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NaPoWriMo April 3

For Trent, A Student Interviewed

I’ve gone to school to be a nurse.
I’ll study hard; I have a need.
Grandpa’s arthritis is a curse.

Although I help, he just gets worse.
I help him dress, and for other needs.
I’ve gone to school to be a nurse.

His smile is strained; his words are terse.
His once neat garden is all now weed.
Grandpa’s arthritis is a curse.

To help him out is my rule first.
Forgetting fun and friends, I cede.
I’ve gone to school to be a nurse.

The course is hard; the labs are worse.
I swear I will achieve this deed.
For, Grandpa’s arthritis is a curse.

No matter what, it all gets worse.
To help him and others is my creed.
Grandpa’s arthritis is a curse.
So I’ve gone to school to be a nurse.

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Another villanelle

With a Nod to Tolkien Reading Day

The road goes ever on and so
I follow down the winding trail,
And I have miles and miles to go.

The wind blows fierce; the clouds are low.
Rain falls from the sky—and now comes hail!
The road goes ever on and so.

Continue on by streams that flow.
Footsore.  So lost! Over hill, through dale.
Still I have miles and miles to go.

Through new-ploughed fields where farmers sow.
Past laden orchards and lakes with sail,
My road goes ever on and so.

Miles pass by; no rest I know.
The day ends, but not my tale.
For I have miles and miles to go.

Guided by the archer’s bow
All through the night, into dawn’s pale
Still I have miles and miles to go
Because the road goes ever on and so!

 

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NaPoWriMo April 1

This is a villanelle.

Morning Garden

I raised a glass of ruby wine,
In toast of each plant, bush, and tree.
To all, I think, it was a sign.

That garden life was truly kind
From nibbling hares to buzzing bees.
So, I raised a glass of ruby wine.

A cheer to all!  To none malign!
Applause arose from lawn and tree.
To all, I think, it was a sign.

On this fine morn by dew refined,
Peace contained in all I see.
To this I raise my ruby wine.

Peace out here was blessing mine.
Quiet and harmony was my plea.
I believe to all it was a sign.

Each one and all, we live as kine
Their warmth and sun surrounding me.
To all, I thank!  It was a sign.
So I raised my glass of ruby wine.

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