9 Lines Disparate



Day Nine



Overwintered cattails lie down
under spring rain’s cloak.

Ten boxes, three bags, trappings released,
that which no longer serve.

I yearn for open space where
the only music I hear is of bird and beast.

My knee swells and pounds
as I walk with dog, twice daily, regardless.

How many pieces of cloth needed
to cover my nakedness, not highlight my ego?

One red tulip awakens.

There is food in the fridge,
what other is there to feed me?

Why do I need to know the why,
may I reside in knowing it is so.

Not so disparate, really, liberate the old,
not acquire new, just leave pause to grow.

Author’s Note:

Prompt for day nine of NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo:

“Finally, here is our prompt (optional, as always). Because today is the ninth day of NaPoWriMo, I’d like to challenge you to write a nine-line poem. Although the fourteen-line sonnet is often considered the “baseline” form of verse in English, Sir Edmund Spenser wrote The Faerie Queene using a nine-line form of his own devising, and poetry in other languages (French, most particularly) has always taken advantage of nine-line forms. You can find information of various ways of organizing rhyme schemes, meters, etcetera for nine-line works here. And of course, you can always eschew such conventions entirely, and opt to be a free-verse nine-line poet.”



It happens,
without much attention given.

Each cycle, snows fall.
As days grow, in design
sun transforms crystals
into droplets that sink deeply
inlying drowsy earth,
a drink of conversion to buttress revolution.

A rhapsodic unruly revelry begins.

There is innovation
in each sprout pressing up
through wintered bed.
A refinement from previous growth,
persistently rooted in experience.

Transfiguration isn’t left solely
on mountaintops.

It is meant for every foot
married to luscious earth.
A volley of blinding light
blossoming exuberance
comes from within,
a furnace burning
a passionate ferocity.

Once begun, flush refuses
to be cooled, burgeons,
mandatorily unfurls,
solitary but surprisingly weak.
Yet given breath and light
and time, some adversity
to affirm remarkable strength,
radical life swells anew.




Author’s note:

I welcome you to follow me through my weekly sharing at JOURNEY/lex
. I would love to have you join me on my journey.