20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


3 Comments

s.a.d.ness

crocus abd bees 2012 001

Sunless skies, endless
grey clouded over grey crusted
snow, creating havoc for crocus shoots
struggling to make their stand.

Winter, a slow
death by its thousand windy cuts
and imperceptable emotional fade, now
so few words shared between them.

All purple and
orange in full bloom swathed across
front yard lawns stirring expectations, and
memories of their languid summer days.

Teal sky
days that start warm ending warmer,
their uninterrupted steady sun and their
sleeveless shirts and moist sweaty skin.

Sun, her kiss
once assured his unsteady heart. So many
purple and orange reasons to be hopeful but
March, always the cruel reminder.

written March 2013
revised FOR April 2013 :- /


1 Comment

Because

Brian Carter : in breaths

Brian Carter : in breaths

Hello everyone, here’s my huitain :

Because this life is not enough,

I’ll try to wake up from the cold,

Even if it is sometimes rough,

Even if I have to grow old.

I know that I need to be bold

To go South , and under the sun,

To set myself free from the mold,

To rise above – it’s just begun !

Antoine


2 Comments

Time for a New Challenge

I just discovered the huitain. It is a Spanish form that has eight lines, and each line has eight syllables. The rhyme scheme is ababbcbc.

To wit:

It snowed eight inches, snowed some more,
until our land was turned to white.
We couldn’t open up our door
because of winter’s active night.
Now sun shines on this lovely sight
and melts the snow to rivulets.
Has winter taken its last bite?
What do you think? Let’s make our bets!

OK, OK, so it’s not the best poem in the world, but at least it gives you an idea of how a huitain should go.

Let’s submit some more. I’d love to see what you can come up with.


1 Comment

The shade of Time

Théoule Sur Mer

Théoule Sur Mer

Snow melted down on Théoule,
But the sea seems cool – no swell -.
After another defeated night,
I regret the sweetest feast.

Was damaged by the shade of Time ;
You all, inanimate objects,
What has become of my soul ?
On that bad galley, I row !

And I need the sea breeze,
Otherwise, I foam and boil with rage
Like a sailor lost in town,
Prisoner of a servile life.

Give me now the sun warmin’
My skin, and like a dragonfly,
I will fly near the water sources
And wish I never bow again !

February, the 24th


1 Comment

Cinquain Challenge

Pine trees
reach arms to sky,
hoping for sun cover.
Today, gray clouds threaten with snow.
No. No.

Poems
lift, play music,
polishing the dusty
haze upon a saddened mood. I
thank them.

Little
stones along the
shore speak stories to me,
share an ancient tradition. I
listen.


5 Comments

Of real things

Eyes fluttered open for a second no more than
then slowly closed, for I did not want the real world
just yet
golden sun penetrated the glass like a velvet glove
reaching out for my face
 it drifted under my eye lids whispering
get up..get up
today is a new day
bed covers abandoned
to rise from my berth to which I was anchored
stumbling towards the sun rubbing brow
was I sleep walking
pushing the latch wide open
my eyes unaccustomed to the light
surely tricks were being played
 before me a majestic eagle
wings unfurled it turned,  blinked, beckoned me
I climbed upon his back gathering my arms softly
around his feathered neck his wings sweeping the ether
today is a new day
we soared high into the morning sky my eagle and I
effortless flight
glossy flaxen sun throwing light on
mountain peaks, craggy rocks
green valleys below
I nestled close, we travelled together
ascending above clouds
that seemed to dance in the wind
like musical notes upon a sheet

we rose into the heavens

we plunged and glided on currents of air
the world undisturbed unsheltered beneath us
my eyes closed I felt his heart beat with my hands
was I sleep walking
my eagle returned, he had shown me his world
with tired wings outstretched I alighted
my eyes spoke my thank you not with words
through the window I climbed
my body warmed by the sun
my cheeks aglow from the breeze
he flew away my eagle
I awoke hugging my feather pillow
was I sleep walking?


1 Comment

December?

A Silly December Poem

It’s 60 today and the sun’s shining bright.
I guess that the seasons just can’t get it right.
A couple of flakes fell on Thanksgiving Day,
but autumn is lingering. Skies are not gray.

I wonder why Earth has its story mixed up.
The weather’s been weird, like cake in a cup.
So what of December? Where’s snow and the cold?
It might come like a lamb, not blatant or bold.


1 Comment

other voices

Sometimes I
admire the
moon for it
cannot match
the sun’s glory
so it finds
it’s own patch
of sky to
brighten.

Sometimes I
admire the
nightingale
for it is drowned
out in the shrilly
shouts of other
fowls so it
finds its own
silence to
liven.

Sometimes I
strive for the
sun yet I
can’t reach it,
so I aim for
the twinkling
stars instead.

Somewhere
over the rainbow
the colour black
is weeping,
but then she
realizes the
mysterious beauty
of the night.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 3,333 other followers

%d bloggers like this: