Since Colleen is off on her travels, there is no Tanka Tuesday. Since Colleen isn’t around to make the rules, I have used last week’s prompt again (Past and Future) to make an ottava rima.
The sun has set on that long ago day,
Hundreds of times—these small deaths of the light,
Snuffed out by the dark, since you went away—
And I walk alone with shades of the night.
Echoes of laughter and sunlight still play
In the halls of the past, bright birds with no flight.
Through mists of tomorrow I search for my wings,
Feathered dreams, flying home to the place where love sings.
The poem (ottava rima) is for the Secret Keeper’s prompt. The painting is by Sanford Robinson Gifford and I love the drama, even it isn’t exactly the style I was looking for.
This week’s words are:
BLOWING | DANGER | UP | BAN | STILL
Cloud-heavy, heat hangs from the sky’s dark edge,
Summer stillness banished into ripples,
Storm threatens in the rustle of the sedge.
Blowing up, the wind strews rain and stipples
Lake water, lily-fringed and bulrush fledged,
Furrowing with frowns the water’s dimples.
Tossed the wavelets, scattered songbirds piping,
Thunder cracks, the sky with lightning striping.
Since we’re in ottava rima mode for dverse, here’s another one for the Real Toads prompt, based on this quote:
“’Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!” – Dracula
When sunset’s fire fades to deepest dark,
Midnight’s children scatter through the sky,
A mantle woven from the primal spark,
For this, each day, the sun’s fate is to die.
Music of the stars, song of the lark,
Work their magic, dreams spread wings and fly.
I walk the paths of day and skim the night,
On swallow’s wings into the birth of light.
For the dverse prompt to write an ottava rima poem.
When wandering cloud obscures the full moon bright,
The hunters prowl in shadows dark and deep,
While vixen in her lair far from the light,
Curls round her cubs to keep them safe in sleep
Until they pass—the dangers in the night,
With stealthy tread, her secret night paths creep.
And in this world of silent, withheld breath,
The stars are still, for nothing stirs in death.