#OctPoWriMo – Day 18 – Ottava Rima – “Nature’s Cradle” #amwriting #poetry


Day 19 Prompt: Tree

Trees are necessary for our very existence on this earth, they produce the air we breathe. We build houses with them and create many products that we use everyday with them. What personal role do trees have in your life? Do you have a favorite tree in your yard or one that you walk or drive by frequently? Free write for ten minutes exploring the world of trees.”

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http://www.youngonespack.wikia.com

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The park is peaceful silent, as mid-day sun strays, 

Walking through foliage, even footsteps —

Can be heard, where branches carve a ceiling cave. 

Though the sky is cheerful blue, branches yet, 

Make the trails paved, a hollowed place away —

Screaming city lights, and loud conversation met, 

With the quiet, the tranquil breath, gifted by trees, 

No sadness here, a happy place held dear. 

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The drifting leaves, paying tole, to dancing wind, 

Blowing the rebirth of trees and their seeds far. 

Slow lazy walk, furry dog smelling scents, grins. 

Curious thing, to see a dog smile, laughing bark.

Nature cradles us, magic trees rekindled. 

Hidden we are in treasured lands, our star —

Bright light always near, to show us the path to roam. 

Nature’s dreamy pause, returns with us to home. 

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” A Ottava Rima is a poem written in 8-line octives. Each line is of a 10 or 11 syllable count in the following rhyme:

1. one octive poem. abababcc
2. two octive poem. abababcc, dededeff

3. three octive poem. abababcc, dededeff, ghghghii.”

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Please see Shadow Poetry for more information

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 


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Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: A Hideous Bench


“Oh what a tacky bench,” Violet complained to her husband Wes. “Who would put such an outrageously coloured bench in Hewitt Park. We have to walk by it when we take Snuggles for his walk.”

“Meow,” Snuggles said, struggling in his harness and leash.

Wes sighed as his wife continued to moan about the red bench. The bench was in an ideal spot for him to seat his aching bones and red was his favourite colour.

“Oh my, Wes! Why are you sitting on that hideous bench. I was just saying what an eye-sore it is.” 

“I’m eighty-four-years old Violet and the red bench is a perfect place to rest.” Snuggles meowed and sat on the bench in agreement.

Violet was starting to complain when she noticed Snuggles sitting on a plaque on the bench seat.

Wes moved Snuggles and both he and Violet read the plaque which said: ” In honour of our Grandson, Corperal Jonathan Crest, who died under enemy fire in Afhganistan. Lest We Not Forget.” 

 Violet sniffed and her eyes went wide as she read the plaque. 

“Pretty good reason to have a red bench here, don’t you think Violet?” Wes said.

Violet was speechless.

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Ady
 

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Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.