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Happiness – a nonet
Here it is, as promised – a happy poem! And a nonet, no less.
Happiness – this was a real stretch for me. Reaching outside of my limits. Absolutely nothing in this poem dies horribly, gets cut down or meets an untimely end – guaranteed!
And I couldn’t even find a picture of sparrows (with a redistribution licence).
This is not a sparrow.
Picture credit: JJ Harrison Creative Commons licence. Any reproduction (or redistribution in its altered state, i.e. with my poem attached) must reference the licensor or author.
Happy Happy Joy Joy – a nonet
I have come to realise (and it’s also been pointed out to me) that my occasional poems and fiction (actually, not so occasional recently) have a fairly dark theme. The fiction always seems to need a dark twist, while my poems concentrate on the death of our environment, the death of our environment, the death of our environment and sometimes even the death of our environment!
Therefore I have decided to write a happier poem, in the form of a nonet (that’s the thing with nine lines, starting with nine syllables and working down to one).
This requires a big shift in my thinking. I need to think butterflies. I need to think rainbows, bunny rabbits and kitty-cats.
I’ll include a picture of a squirrel I took in a wood near my house to get me into the correct mood.
A fluffy squirrel.
Okay then, here goes.
Broken Lives
Demons of foul Death parade the land
Executing shivering souls
Suffering the innocent
Terror of broken lives
Ravaged and ended
Open wounds burn
Yells for help
Echo
Death
Hmm, that was a little darker than expected. I was expecting more unicorns and rainbows and fewer gruesome deaths. Stupid useless squirrel picture.
In my defence, I couldn’t think of a nine letter word to write down the left-hand side (which is a new rule I just made up) that said “happiness”. Hang on…
H-A-P-P-I-N-E-S-S
Okay, that would have done. Next time, fluffy bunny rabbits!
My First Nonet!
“Nonet” or “Nonnet”? I’ve found both spellings. So no-one can decide how to spell it. That’s not a good start.
“My First Nonet.” Sounds like a starter product, like “My First Train Set” or “My First Grown-Up Underpants”.
But enough of this frivolity. A nonet (or nonnet) consists of nine lines. The first line contains nine syllables and you remove one syllable per line until you’re left with one on the ninth line. It doesn’t have to rhyme and each line can contain as many words as you like, as long as the number of syllables is correct.
I’d never heard of them until a couple of days ago when fellow blogger morrighansmuse inspired me with one of her own. I decided to give it a go, and here it is! It stopped scanning after line 3, but hey-ho. It’s probably not supposed to :-).
Rainforest
The greedy came with axes, chainsaws
Once a forest now a wasteland
Never more the verdant green
Broken stumps, scattered ’round
Nature’s beauty gone
Desolation
Nature lost
Broken
Dead
A Poem Poem
Having read this over I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. But I’m going to hit “Publish” anyway!
Just a bit of fun 🙂
There’s one thing I can’t do
And that thing’s a poem
There’s them say I’m rubbish
So I thought “I’ll show ’em”!
There’s long poems, short poems
All different sorts
Some of them quite profound
Others mean nought.
There’s some lines that rhyme
And there’s others that don’t
Some lines are couplets
And sometimes they float.
A haiku’s a poem
That comes from Japan.
It’s carefully structured
I’m quite a big fan!
Ideas in words
Structured in punctuation
Mind blowing colour.
So come on you writers
And give it a go!
You might be quite good
You just never know.
Rain On Me
Daily Prompt: Turn, Turn, Turn – For many of us, winter is blooming into spring, or fall hardening into winter. Which season do you most look forward to?
Well, this is a tricky one. Once upon a long ago, when I was but a wee lad, we had seasons. We had a fresh spring, a hot summer (in Cornwall that’s anything above 23 degrees), a blustery autumn and a cold crisp winter.
We now have a mish-mash of seasons throughout the year. Sure, it’s generally warmest around July/August and coldest around December/January, but if there’s one thing we can count on, it’s the rain. Okay, so the last couple of weeks have been quite pleasant with lots of sun, but two degrees in April isn’t my idea of “spring”, sun or no sun. And now it’s raining again so we’re back to “the new normal”.
What happened? Why did the seasons all roll into one? I don’t know. Something to do with jet streams or El Nino or whatnot I expect.
So here’s a breakdown of seasons, along with some badly written poetry!
Spring – cool to warm, raining
Ah, spring, when all the little buds appear on the trees, grass is green, new life appears and it’s raining. I’m not a huge fan of spring. It’s neither one thing nor the other.
New life awakens
The last frost dies
Gentle promise
Of new possibilities
The world glitters
With fresh morning dew
A new beginning.
Summer – warm, occasionally approaching “hot”, raining
I had a rubbish summer holiday last year. I didn’t go anywhere. I left my flat three times in two weeks. I’ve never seen rain like it. It rained so hard my car filled with water. I’m talking an actual puddle. I had to bail it out. Rubbish.
Burning sun assaults the road
Burning off the winter’s cold
Children laughing in the street
Tarmac melts beneath their feet
People smiling everywhere
No-one seems to have a care
Then it starts raining again and it all turns to shit.
Rubbish.
Autumn – getting cooler, windy, raining
This is the “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness” according to Mr Keats. I have to say, this is the one season which reminds me of my childhood. Collecting leaves to bring into school to stick into my exercise book. Conker fights. The Harvest Festival. Could this be my favourite season? I don’t think so, just a season which reminds me of good times long since gone.
Trees a sea of red and gold
Gentle breeze caresses
Life slipping
Towards sleep.
Winter – cold, occasional snow, frost, raining (which subsequently freezes before raining again)
Winter’s not so bad, really. The only reason I don’t like snow is because I have to drive to work. I love the dark evenings where I can go home to a lovely warm home, close the curtains and snuggle up. And of course, winter has Christmas in it!
Flakes of perfect symmetry
Drifting, swirling
Nature’s dance.
Blanketed in white
The world sleeps
Awaiting a new day.
And there you have it. It rains a lot.
Which season do I most look forward to? I really don’t know. They all have something beautiful about them.
Now it’s time to enjoy the season of spring! Take walks, enjoy the daffodils and watch the trees burst to life. And maybe take some poetry lessons.
Ode to an Xbox
Daily Prompt: Cupid’s Arrow – “It’s Valentine’s Day, so write an ode to someone or something you love. Bonus points for poetry!”
OK, here goes.
Sitting there all white and shiny,
Powerful but still quite tiny.
Playing games or check the web,
Watch a film while still in bed!
Kicking ass on Halo 3,
Xbox, you’re so good to me!
Xbox, yes, you are the one,
Thank you. Thanks for all the fun.
Oh man, I really need to get a life. Seriously. Now.
Help?
The Epic Tale of Eric Thane Part 1
About the author: This poem is the work of the semi-great poet Dralimanakos (ca. 470BC). Although famous for his bad rhyme and lack of grandeur, Dralimanakos was known throughout the land as “someone who really tried quite hard”. This poem, his greatest work, has been faithfully translated from the original Greek by a dedicated team of bored historians.
Come hither, one and all, and hear a tale of heroes and adventure. Hear ye, dear listeners, the tale of unlikely hero of old, Eric Thane!
Part 1, in which Eric listens to a bard and leaves home in search of a great prize.
We meet our hero
Meet our hero, learn his name
Gunther’s brother, Eric Thane
Gunther, he was proud and strong
But Eric? Everything was wrong
Short of stature, rumpled hair
Some would say, “It isn’t fair!”
But nothing ever got him down
Always smiling, ne’er a frown
He never shirked, he did his bit
He worked the fields, he shovelled shit.
Eric makes a decision
Then one day while watching sheep
(It was a fairly boring week)
A famous bard he came to stay
By telling stories, paid his way
He sang of kings and armies vast
He told of famous battles past.
One such tale had all ears open
Of a diamond, long since stolen
Eric heard with widened eyes
The story of this fabled prize
No man knew where now it was
Just that it lay to the north
Eric heard the jewel held magic
To hear it’s lost is surely tragic!
So Eric made a plan that day
That come the morn’, he’s on his way
Towards the north, that jewel to seek
Even if it took all week!
Eric’s first fight
And so next day he sallied forth
Heading up towards the north
Light of step and glad of heart
Armour, sword, he looked the part.
He wandered far across the land
Grass and forest, hills and sand
Some weeks on he reached Great Wood
The tales about it weren’t good
But Eric’s heart was brave and stout
No such tales would keep him out!
Some way in he found a hive
Honey sweet would help him thrive!
He took his sword and cut it down
But then his smile turned to a frown
The bees they swarmed all o’er the place
Stinging him on hands and face.
While braving fending off a bee
Missed his step, did stumble he
Arm outstretched to save him harm
Fell on his sword and cut his arm.
Finally he left the wood
It hadn’t really gone so good
Throbbing arm, no food, no honey
He realised he’d need some money
So from the wood he headed down
Towards a quiet little town.
In Part 2, we’ll join Eric as he continues his adventures and meets the dreaded Siren of the Marsh!
2093
The year is 2093
Tommy’s never seen a tree
He knows they’re tall and brown and green
But not a sight he’s ever seen.
People say it’s such a pity
All the world’s become a city
Trees and grass and bubbling brooks
Can only now be found in books.
No horses, cows or dogs or cats
All the food is grown in vats
People crammed in tiny spaces
Life’s a drudge, no happy faces.
The older ones think “Such a shame”
Wondering just who’s to blame
No more trilling sparrow’s song
Nature’s time has long since gone.
Rain
Promise of morning glory
Stolen
By precious drops of crystal rain.
Bleak Future
A teacher talking to the class
Explaining all that’s come to pass
Smoke and oil across the land
Poisoning the sea and sand.
The teacher says we’re just not trying
To save the animals from dying.
A girl of 8, she raised her hand
Her big brown eyes looked kinda sad
“But surely we should change our habits
Or what about the bunny rabbits?
I’ve one at home
He’s really sweet
With floppy ears and fluffy feet.”
The teacher struggles – what to say?
He tells them it will be okay.
But when the kids look in his eyes
There’s something there
They see he lies.
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