Tuesday, April 28, 2009

OK, this is a big deal, the poetry prompt today. It was to write a form poem, a COMPLICATED for poem called a sestina. Anybody who wants to look up the pattern, here's a link.http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/Sestina6x6339+Thats+Math.aspx That's not why it's a big deal. This is the one prompt in the poetry challenge I gave up on last year. It frustrated me and made me cry and I just quit. I got very close to that point this year, but here it is, my sestina, followed by the poem about my freedom to write or not write sestinas or anything else I please. The sestina also mentions many of the birds Bob and I saw Sunday at the Port Aransas birding center.

Birding

Pink cloud, Roseate spoonbills lift
over marsh. Miracle moment, quick loss.
Sora strides out of reeds, out of dream,
I raise binoculars, resolute, quick with hope.
Mystery quicker than mind, rail hides in mist.
Birds rise, leave me on boardwalk alone.

Wind kisses, slaps, purifies as I stand alone.
White shape encourages, eye follows, hope lifts ,
but it is just a trash bag, no bird, flapping in mist.
hope, loss hope loss hope loss hope loss hope loss
hope, loss, hope, loss, hope, loss hope, loss, hope.
I raise binoculars again, between reality and dream.

Roseate spoonbills circle, drop pink feather, dreamer
I stand on boardwalk holding feather, thankful, alone
Splash in the water, way out, fish jumps, heron hopes
for catch. Ordered line of heavy brown pelicans lifts
ponderous, graceful, one bird's catch, another's loss.
Ten foot alligator still as log in green water under mist.

Magic brilliance of indigo bunting storm breaks mist
Color too bright for reality, must come from dream,
vanishes when grackle squawks, loss, hope, loss.
Coot cries. Giant red eared turtle dives. Again,alone.
Each time beauty disappears, I choose whether to lift
binoculars , whether to accept loss, hope, loss, hope.

Translucent neck of tricolored heron sparkles, feeds hope
color and absence alternate, through morning mist.
Rain falls, mist lifts, mist descends, loss falls, hope lifts
Roseate spoonbill cloud. pink as any sweet dream
evaporates as fast, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone.
Put binoculars in case, sick of loss hope loss hope loss.

Alligator under boardwalks snaps jaws, mallard's life lost
Meadowlark rises cry too beautiful for orchestra, like hope
Foolish illusion, so much life death in marsh, no way alone
Colors flash pink, indigo, translucent, yellow through mist
Beauty, life, death, hope loss is real in the marsh, no dream.
I unlatch case and reluctant, catch rosy cloud as binoculars lift.

On boardwalk, in marsh, I lift binoculars, risk loss
of flash of dream, surrender again to persistent hope
Keep peering through the mist for connection, never alone.

Victoria Sullivan Hendricks, April 28, 2009


Resisting Patterns

Freedom, the wise woman taught,
is neither rebellion or compliance.
I don't have to follow difficult forms.
I don't have to refuse. I choose.

Victoria Sullivan Hendricks, April 28, 2009

4 comments:

Ruth said...

Go Mama! Congrats on stepping up to the challenge (and producing something wonderful too)!

Peggy said...

You did it indeed Victoria! As you know I also found this to be way more challenging than I usually find prompts to be and I am still just glad to have gotten through my attempt. BUT I like the result of yours. I would also like to add some of those birds to my list!

Judy said...

I am so proud of you for not only finishing this difficult form poem but also producing a very good one. That makes it more than worthwhile (and may we not see this form for a while!LOL).
Resisting Patterns was a real bonus. I sure enjoyed reading that choice is the key.

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