my eyes
hold the colors
of this water
stirred up
we swim
in their reflection
my eyes
hold the colors
of this water
stirred up
we swim
in their reflection
when I speak smoothly
and bring you
armfuls
of smiling word bouquets
what I say
is not as important
as what the spaces
between words
tell you
when I stammer
I meant to write
that great american novel once
so married to the idea
i wanted to keep poetry
comfortably on the side,
straying only
once or twice a week
i never intended him to move in
and take over all my words
yet,
here we are
ready to sign those papers
The mailbox teased, withholding for nine days
this gift of images; a world, a mind,
a map to your soul, in a written maze
I follow until dizzy in it. I
sift through the silt of your words, and I mine
this fine gold vein of vision taking form
soft and priceless, cooled now in cultured lines
of craft, rising up first in molten storms.
***So, today at Dverse, we are tacking a poetic form called an huitain. I always go kicking and screaming when dragged into formed poetry, but I adore the challenge of writing outside of my comfort level. Hope you guys liked my effort here. This is written to honor my friend and duet partner, Noel, who sent me his book of poetry, and I finally got it yesterday! Yay, Noel–you rock! Yes, mining pun intended.
The huitain went by a syllable count of eight originally, but with the fondness for English iambic pentameter, has also been seen with 10 syllables. The variations are all variations on the rhyme scheme, however, there is one type of pattern all variations follow. There must be one set of four rhyming words, and two sets of two rhyming words.
French/English #1: a, b, a, b, b, c, b, c
French/English #2: a, b, b, a, a, c, a, c
Spanish #1: a, b, a, b, a, c, a, c
Spanish #2: a, b, b, a, a, c, c, a
Definition and explanation above from: http://forums.mosaicmusings.net/index.php?showtopic=3944&mode=threaded&pid=102356
I hear summer chime
inside cricket songs, but still
September scents air
unripe, crisp, stony
I taste chardonnay with each
drawn green apple breath
interesting, this;
how we move
separately but in unison,
a choreographed spontaneity
that we meet and learn
from each other
& defy miles in the way
these throats open
as one singing voice
braided smoothly,
or threads strung
on opposing edges of this large loom
the light of your spun spirit
not planned to tangle with my dark
and yet our threads together pattern
something beautiful in the weaving,
unpredicted, unforeseen,
warp and woof blending
and meshed
impervious to geography
or plans made, testing the strength
of this new fabric we form