Tag: Love

Someday, My Heart

~ Christine Goodnough ~ 10 Comments

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt challenges you to also write a love poem, one that names at least one flower, contains one parenthetical statement, and in which at least some lines break in unusual places.

Since “loved and lost” is a frequent theme of poets, I’ll give this a whirl. I’m adding a twist, though: I’m doing it as an abecedarian poem.

And now, my love,
because I can (indeed I must)
carry on, casting off
desperation and dolor,
even if I still ache
for your arms, your voice.
Good things, they tell me,
have but transient lodging
in our lives,
juxtaposed with
kabooms of dreams and plans.
Love is for earth-time – this
merry-go-round of
nebulous bitter and sweet
on which I’ve flung myself.
(Perhaps dreaming overmuch?)
Quietly I begin
reconciling love to truth
swallowing the ache, I take comfort:
“Time heals all wounds.”
Useful – or useless? – platitude,
valerian haze with hopes of
waking in some
Xanadu, heart mended, and
you’ve drifted into that
zone where all is forgiven.

Bashful Sorts

~ Christine Goodnough ~ 4 Comments

I’m adventuring into some unusual forms of poetry for National Poetry Month. The form I’m posting now, I found listed at The Writer’s Digest site. It’s a treochair, which is an Irish tercet form with alliteration.

Rules for a TREOCHAIR:
Variable number of tercets (three-line stanzas)
Three syllables in the first line, seven in the second, and seven in the third.
First line rhymes with the third. Treochairs employ a lot of alliteration.

Bashful Sorts

Bashful sorts
like Milton and Mike oft’ tell
fate their dreaming thwarts.

Never bold
enough, their arms stay empty;
no sweetheart they’ve told

deepest dreams;
they’re too shy for romancing
by mellow moonbeam.

Courage be
a godsend to these misters!
The gals will agree:

happy hearths
are acquired by lads who
dare to risk their hearts.

Image: Myriams-Fotos — Pixabay

Finding A Poem

~ Christine Goodnough ~ 5 Comments

Seeing it’s National Poetry Month, I’ll try my hand at some different forms this month. This one is a CENTO.

Robert Lee Brewer, in his list of various poetic forms, writes: “The cento…is a form of found poetry that is entirely composed of lines and phrases from previously written poems.”

I feel like I’m the AI here: taking snatches of already-done to create something new. Probably Oh, well…good exercise.

I’ve drawn from these poems to create my CENTO:
She Walks in Beauty by George Gordon Byron
My Mother’s Garden by Alice E Allen
Let Me Grow Lovely Growing Old by Karle Wilson Baker

In Beauty, Growing Old

She walks in beauty, growing old –
so many old things do –
a garden old-fashioned, quaint
laces and ivory, forget-me-nots,
to full perfection brought.

Old streets a glamor hold,
we know as we pass by,
mellowed to that tender light
which heaven to day denies

Pansies bloom in tender thought
that softly lightens her face.
Love’s roses blossom, grow lovely
growing old, in goodness spent.

Songbirds always singing,
how dear their dwelling place
and from it floats forever,
the smiles that win, the tints that glow
a mind at peace with all below,
the fragrance of her life.

Musical Choices

~ Christine Goodnough ~ 6 Comments

I’m a bit late, but here’s my response to Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt

The Jamboree and the Funeral

“Why’s all this traffic on the road this morning?”

“Big country music jamboree near Regina. Starts at noon, every first of August.”

“Fast food places will be packed. Hope we can find a table when we’re ready to stop.”

“Feels funny, you know. All these folks heading for a party and we’re going to say our last goodbye to dear Aunt May. Solemn music, tears and tissues.”

Two hours later, as the funeral started, they were surprised to hear Garth Brooks singing “If Tomorrow Never Comes.”

Note/Confession:
Funeral music has changed a lot, I thought as we listened to “Born To Be Wild” at the end of the service for my brother-in-law. Which gave me the idea for this story, but Google had to help me with this one. I’ve never heard this song, but read the words and it looked like something that might fly at a funeral — the general theme being, “Say those loving words today to the people you love, in case this is your last chance and tomorrow never comes.”

There is an annual Country music Jamboree every year at Craven a small town not far from Regina, SK. At least there was before COVID hit.