A Hunter Rides – Napowrimo – day 18

 

Today’s challenge is to write a ruba’i. What’s that? Well, it’s a Persian form — multipe stanzas in the ruba’i form are a rubaiyat. Basically, a ruba’i is a four-line stanza, with a rhyme scheme of AABA. Robert Frost’s famous poem Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening uses this rhyme scheme. You can write a poem composed of one ruba’i, or try your hand at more, for a rubaiyat. Happy writing! http://www.napowrimo.net/ .

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A Hunter Rides.

A hunter rides and know of nature’s need.
Of entropy, the stirring of the seed,
In dreams he seeks the riders for his chase.
Hunted turns to hunter, mounts her steed.

In sleep, awakes to join the cavalcade.
She knows this is no merry masquerade.
Yet wild she rides with horsemen of the sky,
To harvest all the dying and decayed.

And so she’s set to ride with Harlequin,
To join the psychopomp of Nudd’s son, Gwyn,
To ride aside the hellhounds of Anwyn.
And those who see her think it is a sin.

At Samhain see them chase the spectral boar,
Tear terror from the world, and so much more,
To hear the frightful baying of the hounds,
We shake and quake and mutter, never more.

Yet should we hark the coming of the storm,
And fearful hearts are gripped til early morn,
Raise up your hands and hearts and softly pray;
Wish for the coming of the timeless born.

And thus we write the archetype anew,
As our culture re-models an immortal who,
Survived the passing storm and still rides on.
A shadow never seen unless he wants you to.

Lisa Goodwin, Bard of Ynys Witrin, April 2014

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Two poems – Lies – Napowrimo Day 16

Hello again

I’m learning so much about by taking part in this daily challenge. I feel exposed just posting them up right away, but I want to post these raw poems so that people see that writing can be fun. Hopefully some will feel inspired to pick up a pen and write. Poems can be silly or serious and they don’t need to be literary masterpieces to be of worth.  The right words can come in a flood of inspiration or you may need to work it, the point is to keep writing and learning the craft. It takes practice to be a master. Anyone can write a poem. It takes a master to write poetry. 

The Prompt for today’s poem is to write ten lines with each line being a lie. I had two takes on this prompt. Which do you prefer?

Political Prevarications

We are all in this together.
We have the same storms to weather.
Oh, don’t you worry about rising prices.
It’s natural, as the economy stabilises,
I’ll look after the old, frailest and poorest.
I will cut the deficit, protect the NHS.
I really do want to reassure the masses.
Read my lips. I have no plans for new taxes.
We will empower local people and communities.
Together we will build a land of opportunity.

The above statements are taken from quotes from David Cameron whilst talking about his Big Society. And from a very different angles, the paradox of lies. Again, ten lines, each one a lie…. or is it?

 

 

White Lies, Black Truth 

Oh, I’m fine.
I am raging inside.
Thank you, I love it.
I hate you, it’s hideous.
That makes sense.
Really I’m clueless.
It really doesn’t matter.
It matters more than you know.
He truly loves me.
He has no-where better to go.

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The King is Dead! Long Live the King!

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The Wild Winter King has finally yielded,
His frozen breath left the forest for dead,
The goddess stirred when the cold had receded.
Awakened to seek a summer consort instead.
A young bright prince has arrived in the story,
And he’s set to rule in the Winter King’s stead.
The Queen passes by; oak, ash and thorny,
As she enters the forest in search of her mate,
Her touch reveals blossoming nature’s glory.
Nature intensifies and wild venerates,
Unity, sacred and coming to being,
May Queen and Summer King enter the chase.
Who’s doing the chasing and who is fleeing?
Sovereignty comes and chooses her kin,
Dances a mandala of new life to being.

The King is Dead! Long Live the King!

Lisa Goodwin – #Napowrimo Day 14 – April 2014

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#Napowrimo 14 – Ato’s Probing Questions.

 

Do you know what you are here for?
Did you fill out the form?
How do you feel about coming here?
How did you travel, do you live near?
Did you take a bus or did you drive?
In what type of house do you live?
Is there a bathroom, upstairs or down?
Do you sleep well and sound?
What time do you get up?
Can you drink from a cup?
Do you cook, does the food taste good?
Can you follow instructions on microwaveable food?
Can you use a normal washing machine?
How do you feel about changes to routine?
How many days a week do you get washed and dressed?
Do you have bladder control; do you wet the bed?
What happens if an unexpected visitor comes?
Have you ever hurt yourself, or tried to run?
Do you have a finger and a thumb?
Can you press a button, lift your arm?
Fit for Work – Ato’s assessed.
Congratulations, you passed the test;
Now get to work before you drop down dead.

 

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Don’t Cross That Line. Napowrimo11

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‘Don’t cross that line.’
I said, and he didn’t. 
He walked right on it.
Balanced on the,
bounds of limitation,
at the edge of crisis.
Teetering on the white,
line on the platform,
protection from the, 
trains buffeting.
He was only three
already liberated.
Walking the line.
Free to topple,
one side or the other,
to safety, or to danger.
Then the train came.
My hand held back,
from grabbing him,
my heart like,
mortar in my breast.
Trust. The wild wind,
thrust against his body.
Trust. The raw adventure
in his blue eyes. He
doesn’t want to colour
in the lines. Trust.
Watch him shine.
Celebrate his wildness,
show him where the
line is,and know he will
draw his own. Lines that
define his wild nature,
boundaries he can be within.
Not a mother’s cotton
wool smothered love;
Trust.

Lisa Goodwin – April 2014

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Future’s Fortune

Napowrimo – day 10

Once a year he passes
fields of people looking
for an ancient future,
a place to land his history
and move on. His hot
breath hits the dust
on the green crossroad.
It is seldom green.
She knows he is coming,
he comes every year.
She knows every step that
brought him here, and every
step he takes to death. No,
she would never speak of that.
The cold calling from the grave
breathing on his neck. She reads
his heart. Tells of loves and
the lives he will live. She
knows the kind of man he is
with wounds and scars and
doubts and fears. She tells him
what he needs to hear. His doubt
dissolves, he takes the future
in his hands. This year she
doesn’t take his coin, she cannot
sell a lie. Instead invites him to
sit by her fire, one last time.

Lisa Goodwin – April 2014

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Change Glastonbury’s Crest

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So I sat and watched the council, for what it is worth,
And though speak my message in a crafted verse,
With a little bit of tongue in cheek, a little bit of mirth,
I really see the need for a new crest to be birthed.

Inappropriate to pin it on Glastonbury’s breast,
We no longer can be sealed by the corporations crest,
I know that as a town, we can do better.
So I’ve written this rhyme in place of a letter.

Backed by colour red; crossed by two croziers in saltire,
Representing four parts separate, and set behind a mitre,
Do you remember the time the Abbot lost his head?
Well here it hangs upon the town, though Whiting is long dead.

A time of dissolution, honoured in our history,
But is it right to raise it up and wear it as a point of glory?
And when the seal was stolen by the town clerk Mr Prat,
We picked it up and put it back, like an old familiar hat.

For us to wear this shield, is far from chivalry,
To wear the monarch of the land, is a crime, civilly,
Without a grant of arms on behalf of the crown,
A coat of arms cannot be worn by Glastonbury town!

Oh, I know the crest you are wearing doesn’t mean to offend,
And it’s not exactly treason, so you’ll likely keep your head,
But ignoring legislation is no way to represent,
And to break the law knowingly is dodgy ground to tread.

Really, it is time to take your head out of the sand,
It hasn’t been agreed to wear the crown of Queen Anne,
You’re right, it really doesn’t matter if they prosecute or not,
But you cannot keep a symbol that’s illegally got.

Please can we have another shield that rightly represents,
The heart of Glastonbury, and with a healthier intent,
A symbol that wholly speaks of community and life,
And with that simple change; May Glastonbury Thrive.

Lisa Goodwin Bard of Ynys Witrin – April 2014

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