beyond March’s window limbs bare weathered bones hoary fingers splayed in grim supplication for an hour’s sun-shower where only moss grows
last year’s papery stalks lie swathed in brown leaves the soggy gray detritus of irises where rain drums a heartbeat on dull amber grass
yet hidden in the loam the earth awakens pledging iris leaves and buds on cherry trees an impression of spring dappled with violet
Monet’s garden is not how my landscape looks at all. Here on the mountain, spring daffodils are weeks away. But there are hints of green, a new shoot here and there, leaving the impression that spring is on its way.
Ekphrastic poetry is written in response to a piece of art. Colleen Chesebro chose this prompt after seeing it on Rebecca Budd’s blog: Chasing Art.
I wrote a Double Ennead, a syllabic form created by Colleen. Each of the three stanzas has five lines with a syllable count of 6/5/11/6/5, (33 syllables, giving the entire poem a total of 99).
To read more responses to the challenge, learn about syllabic poetry, or submit your own poem, stop by Colleen’s blog: Wordcraft Poetry.
Today I’m sharing a post from Jude Itakali. Jude writes fabulous poetry: freeform, syllabic form, and frequently a combination of the two blended with poetic prose. His posts are often like journeys, leading his readers along a path through his thoughts and feelings. Sighs of Solitude is a piece of Tanka Prose, a syllabic form in response to Colleen’s Wordcraft Tanka Tuesday challenge. It’s beautiful.
Jude was also incredibly kind to give a shout-out for The Necromancer’s Daughter. I was delighted and honored by the gesture. I hope you enjoy Jude’s mesmerizing talent.
Sighs of Solitude
by Jude Itakali
sighs of solitude listen to conflict’s whispers reconciling depths some woes come from good intent rebirths that will never die
In the deep stillness, I ponder scars long etched in my blemishfree beginnings, healed yet forever barren. I ignore the itch of scabs…
Portrait of Lady Agnew of Lochnaw (1865-1932) by John Singer Sargent, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Never Prim
Prim
Not she
Reposed so
Raising eyebrows
She flouts decorum
A curve of thigh exposed
Draped like silk upon her chair
She dares me to risk her boldness
My paintbrush craves her devil may care
Spellbound, I tarry, swayed by temptation
The authenticity of her essence
Her rebuff of feminine bindings
My colors bow to her allure
A force to be reckoned with
She teases with her smile
My intrepid muse
Her brazen gaze
Scandalous
Never
Prim
Isn’t this an amazing piece of art? To me, Lady Agnew’s posture and expression convey a dauntless challenge to acknowledge her power, her being. I wondered what the artist thought. Did he expect a woman properly dignified, stiff, and prim? Did he love her dare as much as she?
I love these Ekphrastic challenges. Ekphrastic poetry is written in response to a piece of art. Colleen chose this prompt after seeing it on Rebecca Budd’s blog: Chasing Art.
I wrote a stacked/double etheree, which is comprised of twenty lines with a syllable count per line of 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10, 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1. This poem looks like a diamond.
To read more responses to the challenge, learn about syllabic poetry, or submit your own poem, stop by Colleen’s blog: Wordcraft Poetry.
It felt marvelous to write poetry once again for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday after months of absence. I love these Ekphrastic challenges. Ekphrastic poetry is written in response to a piece of art. Colleen chose this prompt after seeing it on Rebecca Budd’s blog: Chasing Art.
I wrote a tanka with syllable count 5/7/5/7/7. Here in Oregon, spring may be shy, but she’s on her way, and there’s no stopping her.
To read more responses to the challenge, learn about syllabic poetry, or submit your own poem, stop by Colleen’s blog: Wordcraft Poetry.
Sunlight filters through tidal barriers of air and water where animals bloom from salty rocks with the permanence of plants, and gardens wear the guise of animals in this place where swimming is soaring from the edges of canyons, hiding in coral caverns of this wondrously alien world, secretive, and brimming with creatures, some tempered by timidness, others leaping and diving from blue to blue.
enter the sacred
domain of eels and turtles
world beneath our world
taught by schools of parrotfish
to touch a dolphin’s wild joy
***
Denise Finn chose the wonderful prompt for this Ekphrastic challenge (poetry based on a visual image). If you click on her name, you can read her entry. As a scuba diver, I’m entranced by the underwater world.
My poem is called a “tanka prose,” a bit of prose followed by a tanka with a syllable count of 5/7/5/7/7.
The weekly #TankaTuesday syllabic poetry challenge is the brainstorm of Colleen at Wordcraft Poetry. Think about joining in. It’s great fun.
The #TankaTuesday challenge this week explores Ekphrastic poetry inspired by visual art. The artwork was chosen by Colleen from WordCraft Poetry and poet and blogger Selma Martin. Their selection relies heavily on current events, however they wanted to be clear that their choice “is not a celebration of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine” and they both “support Ukraine in its efforts to maintain its sovereignty.”
This poem is a syllabic form called a chōka with syllable counts of 5-7-7-5-7-5-7-7-7.
I chose to write about women as the bearers of hope, the guardians of children, and the protectors of joy and love during the dark days of war. (I know countless men share these qualities too).
Brandon donned his latest acquisition—a genuine silk suit. The industrious little silkworms bordered on extinct, and he finally ranked among the international elite who could afford their cocoons. His was new money, thanks to polished attorneys and creative accountants, both armed with tarnished ethics.
He’d given himself two hours to make the one-hour trip from his penthouse to the corporate highrise across the gorge—one of a host of towers. And not the tallest. But he was only thirty-five, and the world was his chessboard, the match a move away from mate. In a few hours, a significant portion of the conglomerate’s assets would fall under his control.
He slipped into the leather recliner of his midnight-blue slider and tossed his briefcase on the seat beside him. “Headquarters. Skip the traffic and take the flyover.”
The slider’s cyber-system hummed to life. “Flyover not recommended.”
“Heavy traffic?”
“No traffic detected.”
Brandon mugged a face. “Then take the flyover.”
“Flyover not recommended.”
“Why not?”
“Flyover not recommended.”
“Override.” Brandon detached the console and typed his passcode, pleased to finally use the feature. He liked the idea of control, driving the slider instead of the slider driving him. The upgrade had cost him a small fortune. It would pay for itself that morning.
As the vehicle glided forward, Brandon closed his eyes and relaxed his shoulders. The slider veered from the congested rails onto the flyover, cruising into the pre-dawn darkness.
At the peak over the gorge, the slider decelerated and stopped. Brandon glanced out the window at the black depths below. Sunrise would soon carve sharp shadows across the cliffs and turn the river into molten gold. “Proceed.”
“Not recommended.”
“Overide.” He typed in the code.
“Not recommended.”
“God damn it. Override.” He stabbed the console and received the same reply. After a quick check of his watch, he peered into the darkness ahead. “Is there a traffic problem?”
“No traffic detected.”
“What the hell? How long to back up and take the other route?”
“Estimated time three hours.”
Brandon barked a curse. He leaned forward and rubbed his hands together, changing tactics. “Override slider functions.”
“Not recommended.”
“Override braking system.”
“Not recommended.”
“Okay, how about override acceleration?”
“Not recommended.”
Brandon’s fist slammed onto the console, and the glass screen cracked. He tossed the damaged hardware onto the passenger seat. There was no point. His fate was sealed. He’d lost out on the biggest deal of his life.
“Cyber system impaired, reverting to manual overrides.”
“Ha!” Brandon checked the time. He’d make it if he flew. With the brake released, he pressed forward on the throttle. The slider responded, accelerated. With a laugh, he opened her up, and the bitch roared like a beast with a taste for speed.
The machine screamed down the other side of the flyover, lurched sideways on a damaged span of rail, and leaped into the sky. The sunrise blinded him as the slider plummeted, its throttle clutched in his white-knuckled hands. The golden river smashed the windshield into his face, his life, in the end, beyond his control.
***
destiny
disavowed
underlings deal and grasp
gold with white-knuckled fists
rapt in night’s deceptive dreams they fly
eyes blinded by a distant sunrise
snared by reckless desire
seconds gained and years lost
illusions
of control
***
It’s been a long time since I shared a flash story. I hope you enjoyed it.
I combined it with a syllabic poem in response to Colleen Chesebro’s weekly #TankaTuesday Wordcraft Challenge. Her challenge was to make up our own syllabic form! Well, that was fun. The one above has syllables 3/3/6/6/9/9/6/6/3/3. I named it a Distillate because it’s a distillation of a larger story. My guess is that every story’s theme can be captured in a poem, no matter how large the book. What do you think?
I had the pleasure of choosing the image for February’s Ekphrastic prompt, and then struggled mightily to write for it! This poem is a Crown Cinquain, five stanzas, each with syllable count of 2/4/6/8/2.
The weekly #TankaTuesday syllabic poetry challenge is the brainstorm of Colleen at Wordcraft Poetry. Think about joining in. It’s great fun.
Winter dawns, heralded by dreary skies and the sun’s retreat. Wind-whipped rain blusters, casting free the remnants of autumn’s crinkled leaves. Woodland creatures burrow into the roots of things, latent, enduring, and twinkling colors gleam in frost-rimmed windows, a warm false-light to see us through the darkness. Oh, do not despair during these days of dying, for the magic of this wise world welcomes the first day of winter with the return of light.
mornings by moonglow
shadows hushed in shades of blue
twilit afternoons
winter’s darkness shrouds the day
while solstice promises spring
***
This tanka prose is in response toColleen’s #TankaTuesday challenge. A “tanka prose” is a piece of prose followed by a tanka with syllable count 5/7/5/7/7. For inspiration, she prompted us to write about any festival or tradition we celebrate during the month of December. Happy Solstice!
Myths of the Mirror 