Poetry, sestina


i sat with a nomad who had a deep voice
he was a bit tired not feeling all that great
today started the annual horse racing season
here was a holiday, a tradition, with a horse race
the nomad talked calmly with little fanfare or play
the role he read was perfect, i think he was a convict

not much chatter from the clamed up convict
he sorta lost interest once my interest started to play
time slowed and hunger growled i hoped fruit was in season
sitting in the coolness made the morning great
the horses in a cloudy canter headed towards the race
i wish there was more time with the nomad and his voice

when he speaks he opens a door with his voice
especially when he starts towards his horse to play
his horse responds knowing how close the season
the nomad and his horse will soon line up for the race
he was interesting this nomad who was also a convict
wouldn’t have noticed except those scars were great

once he stood his nomad height was great
was he taller than his horse that was to run the race
would it matter or come into play
wanted to ask the nomad, is this the season
as a person he would answer, as a convict
and a nomad not sure, would i hear his voice

sometimes he talks as if he has no voice
and when i see the nomad near his horse and they play
as if there was nothing else and there was no race
the smallness of the space the horse and the convict
within this arena the nomad his horse how great
once a year it comes by way of the season

looking around one could tell it was the season
flying multi-colored banners announcing the race
a few instruments soon came into play
the musicians arrived in one be quiet of a voice
from afar i could see his horse and the convict
the nomad will soon be racing towards a win so great

i watched him leave, the nomad and horse, who was a convict
it didn’t feel so great, already i missed his mysterious voice
the season passed and the race finished, it was a great play

day 12 napowrimo
2021 April PAD challenge write a poem using at least three of the following six words: convict, great, play, race, season, and voice. Extra credit for using all six words. Extra extra credit for writing a sestina….

poet’s note: wanted to attempt a sestina. it has been awhile. i enjoyed it and will attempt to use it again soon.

Napowrimo, ReadWritePoem, Saturday Scribes

seafaring soak

saturday scribes: the air we breathe; 3 words, overcome, chimera, canopy
read write poem: day 12, napowrimo; photo: bird sellerdolce babanne, flickr

the cognizant invisibility
of my digital clock
red light’s silent
thunderous ticking

it’s always this way
overcome with restless-ness
suspended sleep
even here with peace
lying beside me
in gentle waves of water

all wet
a quiet noise comes
the sandman
his twinkling  toes
and pink gold floating dust

cannot help but to
take flight the
midnight cool air
a singsong bird’s call
chimera dripping rainbow

we soon soar
peeling past the
canopy effervescent stars

subtlety steady
straight ahead
there’s nothing so like this
not even hot butttered
blueberry pancakes