In faint he whispers to his love
“Don’t forget to rest too, dear”
Unbeknownst to both,
it would be his last words.
That night while his love is lost
in a dream laying down on the
thin cot next to him,
he watches his love intently
heartbroken from hearing the
sound of exhaustion,
but it’s the mere
fluttering of eye lashes
that brought tears
to his eyes, while
his heart also flutters
…for the last time.
This is a product of my imagination but based on a true story; a tribute to a dear friend. Because of him I found the courage to delve into poetry again. Thank you. May you rest in peace in your new world now. Flutter away freely with your wings.
When I was young, I thought having a life dream is enough
Visionless, I’ve lost my way, thought I found it back, then lost again
Now I learn to trust my heart when deciding which path to take
The poem above is written following a sijo format. Sijo is the classic form of unrhymed poetry from Korea. Sijo poems have three long lines. Each line varies between 14 and 16 syllables, with the middle line the longest. The first line states a theme, the second line counters it, and the third line resolves the poem.
This time I followed the prompt from napowrimo.net to write my closing poem for this memorable month. The prompt says to write a poem in the form of a direction to get to a particular place. It could be a real, an imaginary or unreal place.
It’s been fun, NaPoWriMo. My first time trying to write every day for a month. Not an easy one, but I’m happy to say that it’s a success!
Tiptoeing ‘round the house
at its most quiet,
everyone asleep during those lonely hours,
should have been peaceful, yet
it stirred emptiness
I have gnawing fears too
like everyone else,
getting older, the future, to name a few,
cramped thoughts that could cripple
giving no freedom
What does peace mean to me
has transformed with age,
lately it has been accepting weaknesses,
one day make peace with them
no longer a foe
This poem follows the Double Ennead form of poetry. Ennead means 9, so Double Ennead here means double 9 or 99. Here’s an explanation below from Saddle Up Saloon: Colleen’s Double Ennead Challenge No.3 and while there, try the challenge too. The challenge is up for one month. For this month’s challenge, make the Double Ennead a rhymed poem. Mine above was an attempt of ababx, but still a bit choppy I think.
The Double Ennead comprises five lines with a syllable count of 6/5/11/6/5, (33 SYLLABLES per stanza) 3 STANZAS EACH = 99 SYLLABLES, NO MORE, NO LESS! Punctuation and rhyme schemes are optional and up to the poet.
In celebration of the Thursday Tree Love, I picked this picture that I took 2 years ago during my trip to the city of Banda Aceh, located on the northern tip of the Sumatra Island in Indonesia. I don’t expect anyone to recognize the name Banda Aceh or the province of Aceh, but perhaps some people remember. This city became the attention of the whole world in December 2004 when the biggest tsunami that happened during this modern world hit Aceh. I underlined modern world because history has recorded bigger tsunamis previously but none had shocked the world the way tsunami 2004 did, thanks to the modern technology.
If you look at the vast openness beyond the tree, you can kind of see the open sea. It’s the Indian Ocean. It looked calm in this picture, even though it was a high tide due to the brewing storm. The tsunami came from that direction and the location where I took the picture was the first place hit.
No need to feel sorry for the tree because I know for sure this tree grew post tsunami. I know because half of Banda Aceh was gone, became flat. Thus, this tree probably got its chance to grow because of tsunami. Looking at it, it is a symbol of hope, a hope for a better future, a sign that life continues. Though I enjoyed taking pictures of the tree, the open ocean, the storm clouds, I also experienced mixed feelings of awe, sad, and a bit nervous. I imagined being there on that day and could feel the uneasiness even more. What came to the mind of people standing on this beach when seeing those big waves coming towards them?
Enough with the images of the past, I offer a haiku to remember December 2004 and the lives gone. May they continue to rest in peace.
a wrath in its path
water’s power came crushing
broke the day’s order
Never forget that live always goes on. Signs of life are around us, even when we are experiencing destruction or devastation in the form of tsunami, forest fires, earthquakes, or even pandemic, and let’s celebrate them too. To the tree of live, of hope, may you always grow stronger.
the air being inhaled
a wrecked land
the once lush - now arid flat
no promises left
though it had its chance
with eyes closed
fragrant of cherry blossoms
cries of children's joy
It's still there
beating deep at night
some things never moved beyond
they stuck in the past
I realize today that I don’t always need prompts from other people in order to write. I can search for a prompt from inside, from my own experience, which I have plenty of to pick. And I thank God for a day like today. He talked to me through everyone He sent down my way, which I’m thankful.
If she could talk, this would be her last words before she was gone. This would be her monologue.
my body's changing
I can tell, I can feel it, helpless
I know dark pages are ahead
no, I refuse to end this chapter now
just let me read this book longer
will you stay with me, read to me
let me fall asleep to your voice
let's take a picture, it's been a while
no, not full body, just the face
don't worry, I'll smile for us both
please don't smile, can't handle it now
it's your eyes, they smile too
I don't have much more to say
don't have anything to give you
what else to leave, everything breaks
I'll leave our sweet youthful times
when we never talk or think about
it's dark ahead, I see it
why are you lighting a candle?
yes, I'm scared too, but let's use flashlights
they last longer
#NaPoWriMo2021 – Day 8, and here is the prompt below, best explained when directly copied from the original instruction:
And last but not least, our (optional) prompt. I call this one “Return to Spoon River,” after Edgar Lee Masters’ eminently creepy 1915 book Spoon River Anthology. The book consists of well over 100 poetic monologues, each spoken by a person buried in the cemetery of the fictional town of Spoon River, Illinois.
Today, I’d like to challenge you to read a few of the poems from Spoon River Anthology, and then write your own poem in the form of a monologue delivered by someone who is dead. Not a famous person, necessarily – perhaps a remembered acquaintance from your childhood, like the gentleman who ran the shoeshine stand, or one of your grandmother’s bingo buddies. As with Masters’ poems, the monologue doesn’t have to be a recounting of the person’s whole life, but could be a fictional remembering of some important moment, or statement of purpose or philosophy. Be as dramatic as you like – Masters’ certainly didn’t shy away from high emotion in writing his poems.
The poem above is for a dear friend of mine. In 4 more days, it’ll be 9 years since her passing. This is for you, sis.