Sonnet Sunday

Day Nine of National Poetry Writing Month! Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo.net:

We’re calling today Sonnet Sunday, as we’re challenging you to write in what is probably the most robust poetic form in English. A traditional sonnet is 14 lines long, with each line having ten syllables that are in iambic pentameter (where an unstressed syllable is followed by a stressed syllable). While love is a very common theme in sonnets, they’re also known for having a kind of argumentative logic, in which a problem is posed in the first eight lines or so, discussed or argued about in the next four, and then resolved in the last two lines. A very traditional sonnet will rhyme, though there are a variety of different rhyme schemes.

My attempt:

For the Love of Springtime in Colorado

Boots sinking deep in mud-browned melting snow,
sweatshirt peeled off and knotted at my waist.
Spring’s dichotomy in Colorado.
Wool socks, sun shades; my rucksack packed in haste.

Crabapples bloom, spent petals drifting down.
Snow lingers where protected by thick shade.
As winter seeps into the thawing ground,
summer will drop like curtains on a stage.

I trek on, heedless of sign and season.
Despite spring breeze or autumnal bluster,
ubiquitous blue skies transcend reason.
I suck the thinning air, my strength mustered.

Toes white with cold, face tanned by sun, I smile.
Springtime in the Rockies keeps one agile.

And click here for a throwback to a previous sonnet I wrote.

Murmur Murmur

Well, it’s been awhile, hasn’t it? But here I am, back in Stanza-land, and what better way to come back than a writing prompt from the folks at dVerse? Today, Sarah challenges us to choose from a number of paintings by artist Lee Madgwick, and use the painting as inspiration for an original poem.

I will post the painting below, but first, the poem.

Murmuration:
Murmuration refers to the phenomenon that results when hundreds, sometimes thousands, of starlings fly in swooping, intricately coordinated patterns through the sky.

NPR.org

Murmur Murmur

Murmur, murmur, murmuration.
Endless swirling iterations.
By what compelled? No explanation.
I won’t venture speculation.

Like pointillistic illustration,
a thousandfold their compilation.
As one they dance their presentation,
and none claim “leader” designation.

At dusk they merge, no hesitations;
mingling, calling salutations.
This roiling mass staves off predation
as they scope night’s destination.

Starling flock cooperation;
flights that defy computation.
I murmur my appreciation.
Murmur, murmur, murmuration.


Murmuration, by Lee Madgwick

Just One

For Cee’s Black and White photo Challenge (CBWC): just one of anything.

I thought I heard a hawk of some sort the other day, so I stepped out on the deck to look for it. This squirrel was balled up on a nearby branch, maybe trying to make himself invisible to the bird of prey.

The bird that was making all the ruckus finally flew to the same tree, but it wasn’t a hawk at all. I’m thinking it was one of those tricky fellows that can mimic other bird calls. Good enough to fool both the squirrel and me!

Five Things


Bloganuary prompt: What are five things you are grateful for today?

I am grateful that I woke up to a rosy sunrise,

And for the beauty of early morning frost

Oh, wait… time out!

I started this post yesterday, but then woke up this morning to rain. No problem; I’m grateful for today’s rain, and how it plays with reflections on my deck.

I’m grateful that most of my native plants survived the heat dome of last summer….

and I’m grateful that Mother Earth is better at growing sword ferns than I am.