NaPoWriMo Day Fourteen
One Hour, Thirteen Minutes
One hour, thirteen minutes before this day is done,
a snow, deep and wet, spring’s unwelcome prediction.
My eyes, my back, call to rest under deep blue down
and yet, I am shackled to one hour, thirteen minutes spun
like weaver’s cloth around my ribs, a taut contradiction
to feathered snow, deep and wet, swelling within my limits.
It will not allow me to idle in down deep and blue, a brocade gown
to costume in as I betray the last one hour, thirteen minutes.
“And last but not least, our (optional) prompt! Today’s prompt comes to us from TJ Kearney, who invites us to try a seven-line poem called a san san, which means “three three” in Chinese (It’s also a term of art in the game Go). The san san has some things in common with the tritina, including repetition and rhyme. In particular, the san san repeats, three times, each of three terms or images. The seven lines rhyme in the pattern a-b-c-a-b-d-c-d.”
Phew! I didn’t think I’d make it. As I waited for my computer to roll and spin and finally open, I saw the clock. I wondered if I would make today’s deadline.
I wanted to tackle the prompt, but these patterned poems seem to stifle me. Tonight I wouldn’t be persuaded to throw in the towel.
This was fun. And I still have fifty-eight minutes left to post.