” Nurado’s sonnets have no rhyme scheme, are meter-free, and are 14 lines, with a volta when you go from the two quatrain into the the concluding tercets. This is consistent with an Italian (or Petrarchan sonnet). ”
Here he sells his wares, the sidewalk his shop,
He’s weary of unlookers, keeping his clay jar’s burning incense.
I stand nearby, asking myself, “For what reason,
Do these fires burn? What wares has he purloined today?”
And stones gathered against the burnt sienna fence,
Mark that, this is his place, where he works and lives.
Hocks his wares, keeps the fire’s in the jars stoked,
Tiny stoves remain lit from dawn until midnight.
His goods move quick, I’m quite surprised,
To me they’re nothing much, yet, I buy a wood carving.
With a crumpled bill and pocket coins, freely given.
My fingers slide over dips and ridges, measure his small carving,
Such intricate, minute detail; but never have I found —
Why the clay fires forever burn, incense floating to the heavens.
Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is poem type called an elegy – a poem that mourns or honors someone dead or something gone by. Center the elegy on an unusual fact about the person or thing being mourned. ” An elegy generally combines three stages of loss: first there is grief, then praise of the dead one, and finally consolation.” Please see Literary Devices for more information.
I’ve paired this prompt with The A to Z Challenge quote, having the author/quoter’s name begin with the letter C.
——— “We are all the pieces of what we remember. We hold in ourselves the hopes and fears of those who love us. As long as there is love and memory, there is no true loss.” ― CassandraClare, City of Heavenly Fire
Here we gather, today it finally hit —
Me, you won’t be coming back; such grit —
You displayed, at the crux, as death grew near.
There was no “going gently” for you dear.
I always admired that you were strong,
At the finish you groaned your last song.
The pain was so great, it hurt us to see,
A candle flame who flared, flickering free.
Death was not easy, nor was your young life.
But you always shouldered through the strife.
A kind, giving person — philanthropist,
With death, you became a minimalist.
Objects hold memories, the Stone’s song we know —
well: “You Can’t Take It With You When You Go.”
As we remember, we wonder why —
Three-years ago you left, disappeared wide —
Across the world, sending postcards to —
Us all, as you adventured across through —
Every country you could see with no —
Face Time, Skype; we were scared you wouldn’t come —
Today’s prompt song is “Paradise Circus” by Massive Attack.
“Paradise Circus” – Massive Attack
You feel the stone beneath your back, it’s hard.
Fall apart, lie ontop of it, and groan.
Felt in your deep bones, the cold wind it mares,
The tension starts drifting in and out, moans.
Unfortunate we’re far apart.
Our minds impart, shattered haste.
Playing games wait, we sin for heart.
Love in us cannotsate.
While time flies by, you wonder berate.
Have some patience, rumours arise.
Do not despise, our love it waits,
Us to but lose; we’ll surprise.
Lazily we move, we’ll time again prove .
Block demon’s soft soothe, a lie of ourgroove.
No demon guards love; God, love, he approves.
The kind that’s grown, realized with heart.
Love that is smart, patient, kind, never departs.
Where your whole heart is honest, though hard.
Dreams alight us both; we’re a work of art.
The LaJemme is a 5 stanza form created by poets Laura Lamarca and Jem Farmer. Meter: consistently iambic
1. Stanza 1, 10 syllables per line, Rhyme scheme abab, 4th syllable of each line is to rhyme with the end rhyme of the preceding line.
2. Stanza 2, syllable count: 8/8/8/6, Rhyme scheme cdef, with cross rhymes in each couplet on 4th syllable
3. Stanza 3, syllable count 8/8/8/6, Rhyme scheme gfdf, 4th syllable of each line follows the same rule as stanza 1.
4. Stanza 4, 10 syllables per line, Rhyme scheme hihi, 4th syllable of each line is to rhyme with the end rhyme of the preceding line. 5. Stanza 5, 10 syllables per line, Rhyme scheme abab, 4th syllable of each line is to rhyme with the end rhyme of the preceding line.
Please see Shadow Poetry for more information.
“Why don’t they rebuild this old stone building Grandpa?”
“You know well, Gertrude, it costs a great deal to repair a historical building. They can’t even take it down because this building is a designated historical site.”
“That doesn’t seem right. Why would we leave something so valuable to history, to fall apart? Eventually it will only be a pile of rubble and everyone will forget its significigance,” Gertrude mused.
” Maybe someday someone like you, Gertrude, will restore the building. It’s a painstaking process and you must use and find authentic materials.”
She nodded. “I understand Grandpa, but sometimes certain cities choose not to rebuild. Like in Venice, many buildings are left to disintegrate and collapse into the water. They don’t let architects even plan to rebuild. Many once grand buildings are in such dangerous condition, they’ve been left so long.”
“Restoring old buildings can be good Gertrude. They are a part of humanity’s history. We need to remember our history to learn from it. But sometimes we need to knock old buildings down and design better ones from our present day knowledge. Future generations can learn from us through newer buildings too,” Grandpa said.
Gertrude nodded. She was training to be an architect but was only a freshman in university. Her Grandpa had been a great architect and was still well known.
“What will future people learn from our buildings, Grandpa?”
“Hopefully, they’ll learn our buildings are stronger. Made with more thought to design, to the environment, and how the everyday person lives. Our simple routines we take for granted are our history as much as the calamities of our time.”
Gertrude frowned, turning to her Grandpa. He was wearing his WWII uniform for the Rememberance Day Ceremony; he was going to walk in a parade as well.
“Will they remember men such as you, Grandpa? Men who fought for their freedom in Normandy and in other places in Europe? Will they understand why you and other soldiers have nightmares from war? Will they remember why you had to fight and saw so many of your buddies die brutally?”
A tear escaped Grandpa’s eye and he shook his head, not able to speak. He was too afraid what he and his fellow soldiers had fought for in brutal war, would melt away in time.
Lest We Not Forget. November 11th is Remberance Day in Canada.
“In Flanders Fields”
John McCrae, 1872 – 1918
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
Welcome to Part 2 of my Fall Fashion Picks. Today’s picks are on the shoes, boots, jewelry, and bags to go with yesterday’s clothing and scarves. Enjoy!
That’s it for Part 2 of my fashion series. Hope you liked some of the styles and colours I chose.
Remember to spray your shoes/boots/purses twice with a weather protectant spray at first, and every so often throughout winte to keep them looking new and fresh. Suade finishes require a special type of protectant — see any local shoe store.
Also, remember you can make shoes fit better with heal cushions, liners for the insides of your shoes, and grippy stick-ons to make your shoes/boots stop slipping on the bottom. There are also cushions which can be put at the front of your shoe bottom on the inside or only the back on the inside.
I did not mean to build a wall, I only needed space.
Though you are all with me, though you all care
This battle is my fight, one I must carry alone, don’t you see
Though I try to be included, there are things you can’t see
I am walking the line, my own private journey into the sun.
The sun is not setting, everyday it rises, but I cannot keep up
With rays and shadows, hiding behind clouds, warming the air
The worst battles we fight, are fought internally.
Our own biggest critic, our own form of loss.
Shots, shots, shots in the air, bullets can rip through you
But if you haven’t felt it how can you understand
The individual pain of each bullet, the hurt is unique
We all feel suffering, but no suffering is the same.
Suffering turns us to tears, and builds character
Scarred and battle worn we appear, the fight never ends
In our own private hells, we flounder forlorn
Empathy the greatest emotion you can give
But it only goes so far, you can empathize to a degree
Then you cannot feel the ache, the fatigue, the darkness inside
Walls exist for a reason, such a man that doesn’t love a wall.
To build up high, and keep in the dark, the woman, the love of his life
He builds with mortar and brick, keeping out the light and she freaks out
” Something there is that doesn’t love a wall” a girl fighting to comprehend
Walls behind her own walls, the realization we all have walls
And these walls are thick, they are dense, and hollow
Strong as solid steel, empty like milk jugs in the recycling container
Seemingly plastic and easily crushed, but with a shape that reforms fills with liquid tears
Becomes the hardest material, harder than diamonds, and crumbling as dolomite
You build your walls, I’ll build mine, we must build our own lives to build one together
We must put in plenty of windows and doors that don’t lock if we are ever to see eye to eye
If we are ever to be one solid wall against the world.
Walls are built to keep something out, I’d rather, you see it for yourself…
I’ll stop building my walls if you stop forming your walls –
then we can just be visible to sunshine and the light that guides the air to swirl and blow a fresh wave of summer over us
If you build them they will come, the wall builders fixing up their walls
But did u know if we left the stones where they lay, let the wall crumble into dust
We could build other things, but we still build walls.