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

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