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 Poems for years 4, 5 and 6 of the Promptly Poetry Challenge. |
| A year's worth of poems, every week for 52 weeks, spanning 2023 and 2024, plus the years following, from August 2024 to August 2025, 2025 to 2026 (provided I live that long, of course). |
| Ode to Winter And if cold be not emotion still it concentrates the mind more powerful than any potion of attention-grabbing kind. When hands are surely frozen and shivers wrack my frame be certain I’ll not have chosen to ponder passion’s fame. When bound in winter’s spell with ice inside my veins you may guarantee full well my mind is pure chilblains. Line count: 12 Rhymed abab For Promptly Poetry Challenge 6, Week 17 Prompt: Write a poem personifying whichever emotion you’re predominantly feeling right now. |
| If I Were a Snowflake (Eternity in the Round) Oh, to live forever, my plastic form enshrined in global ecstasy, inspiration I shall find. You’ll not think me pretty, no fancy shape for me, a thousand just the same, no differences you’ll see. But melt I will not ever, my teeming horde aspire, to ride the storm always, a silent gleaming choir. And though my world is tiny, the snow just my pretence, I’ll see the end of time itself, through ages beyond sense. Line count: 16 Rhymed abcb For Promptly Poetry Challenge 6, Week 16 Prompt: Use the following title for this week's poem: "If I Were a Snowflake." |
Shoreline Two words setting the scene, with each line adding two, aiming at the total of eight, before the wave retreats by two each time to two. Two too, the wave grows from two to six and eight, spreading on the sands of meter, this constant flow and ebb the breath of seas in twos. Line count: 14 Form: Eintou, seven lines with syllables counting 2-4-6-8-6-4-2, repeated to total 32 syllables in all. For Promptly Poetry Challenge 6, Week 15 Prompt: Write an eintou. |
| Tiny Trio A tiny sprig of moss etched against the darkness and a drop of water at its foot, bold outlier of the fetid forest behind, it leans a bending branch to peer at its reflection. That first raindrop after drought, silent explosion of dust scattered in the thirsty air and the damp drawn down in the heated earth, a dark patch on the parched patina of dirt. The antlion’s conical trap, innocent in the sand, with one grain falling, footing lost at last, rolls down into the depth to the miniature jaws awaiting, drama beneath notice. Line count: 21 Free verse For Promptly Poetry Challenge 6, Week 14 Prompt: Write a poem about at least three ‘little’ things that make you happy. |
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