I have a dream Of all earth’s children Cherished and loved Fed and clothed Happy and safe Free to fantasize and play Allowed to dream Educated to think for themselves Regardless of gender, faith or colour Free to choose whatever their hearts desire
I can’t believe how fast April has gone. Last year I struggled to write something every day. This year, with the ekphrastic challenge to guide me, the only struggle has been finding enough time to write as much as I’ve wanted. Some days I’ve even written and posted more than one poem. Will sit myself down to reflect and praise myself this weekend, and think about where to go from here. The praising part is one that I have real struggle with, normally I discredit my work and move on to the next thing. So will endeavour to change that this time.
The last ekphrastic poem became another Spenserian sonnet, with the linked rhyme scheme of ABAB BCBC CDCD EE.
I had to laugh a bit when I wrote it. I’ve stayed away from trying the Spenserian one because I thought the Shakesperian ones were hard enough. But it turns out the linked rhyme scheme, reminiscent of Terza Rima suits me much better.
Actually really pleased with this one. Feels like ending GloPoWriMo on a strong note.
This is my fourth Sonnet in April. And my first ever Spenserian sonnet, which has a linked rhyme scheme of ABAB BCBC CDCD EE.
I still feel sonnet’s are harder than some other forms, or I’m more intimidated by them. Due to their Shakespearean connection. Meaning I feel like a novice poet like myself has less right to venture into such prominent territory. Such are the silly traps my mind makes for itself. I mean I have no problem venturing into other classical forms.
This is the first time the pentameter felt natural and not overly forced, although keeping all the feets iambic still eludes me. I also had an instructive fun time reading up on the Great Comets of 1811 and 1819. Especially the first of those, that was visible to the naked eye for 260 days must have been a real marvel. Leaving many impressions in culture, for example in William Blake’s miniature painting The Ghost of a Flea(below).
Somewhere in the golden dusk a tawny owl calls From another direction wooden wind chimes makes a dull sound Over at the pub there’s cherry voices Comforting homely noises I lean against the ancient stone wall Exhaustion pulling me to the ground I’m just gonna rest my eyes for a minute
~I’m awakened by a trumpet~
Over the hill comes the crest of a centurions helmet The air fills with the sound of marching feet The rattle and clang of weapons and armour I scramble for my bow and arrows They fill the air like a flock of sparrows The romans have come to another tribe uprising meet Certain their might will make them the victors
likes drawing and painting children, animals, landscapes and food. She specialises in watercolour, mixed media, coloured pencil, lino cut and print, textile design. Jane can help you out with adobe indesign for your layout needs, photoshop and adobe illustrator. She graduated with a ba(hons) design from Glasgow School of art, age 20.
She has exhibited with the rsw at the national gallery of Scotland, SSA, Knock Castle Gallery, Glasgow Group, Paisley Art Institute, MacMillan Exhibition at Bonhams, Edinburgh, The House For An Art Lover, Pittenweem Arts Festival, Compass Gallery, The Revive Show, East Linton Art Exhibition and Strathkelvin Annual Art Exhibition.
Her website is: https://www.janecornwell.co.uk/
“Am 68. Live in Mexborough. Retired teacher. Artist; musician; poet. Recently included in ‘Viral Verses’ poetry volume. Married. 2 kids; 3 grandkids.”
I’m very pleased with finally finding a subject that led to me being able to repeat the form I invented for the poem Moonsea from the first ekphrastic challenge I participated in.
Edit September 2nd
As I sit struggling with finding the right form for one of my writing assignments in class I decided to share this to remind myself that not only can I find the right form, I can invent one if no other seems suitable.
You’ve been through hell But outwardly nobody can tell You look confident and strong But in your heart you just want to belong Your mind keeps saying they are all reading you wrong
You’ve picked yourself up more times than you care to count You’ve survived more that most will ever have to surmount Yet you see yourself as flawed and weak As someone who have no right to love and support seek Instead of seeing how your experiences have made you unique
I know you are ready to give up That you’ve started to fear each sunup But I’m here to let you know You can this darkness to outgrow That your indomitable spirit shines with a blinding glow
Yourself is the only one you need to forgive Not anyone who’s been abusive You’ve been taught to see yourself as wrong But you are brave and bold and strong You are worthy of love and to belong
But you have to let your walls down just a little bit You have to acknowledge how badly you’ve been hurt and hit You have to let trustworthy people in Needing others is human, not a sin Then your new life can truly begin
Inspired by the symbology of the Nine of Wands. Written as a letter to another me who really would have needed this. And to anyone else out there who needs to to hear that being abused is never the victim’s fault.
To forgive yourself for something not your fault might seem odd. But I know that most abuse survivors struggle with just that. Holding themselves responsible for what happened. In parts I still do. And that putting the blame where it actually belongs, be it an abusive parent or partner, is both very hard and one of the things that sets you free.
When I was in middle school we read Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes after which the class folded a thousand paper cranes (orizuru) that were shipped to Japan to be hung on the Children’s Peace Monument. As a good girl with nimble fingers I folded a whole lot of them, and I remember my wishes as I did so. That there would be peace and no nuclear weapons. But also intensely personal wishes, that I wouldn’t be bullied anymore, that my mother would acknowledge and kick her pill habit. None of the wishes, big or small came true.
I didn’t have any good folding paper, but I had to try. And wow, talk about muscle memory, I didn’t have to look at the instructions more than once before my hands knew what to do by themselves.
I also clearly remember, somewhere around the same time, finding (at the local library) and reading a comic book version of the bombs falling. I will never forget the graphic illustrations of burns and severe radiation damage. Wondering if it could still be found, I googled. And I found it in one search. And yes, I did remember the gruesomeness of the illustrations correctly.
In English it’s titled Barefoot Gen. When I found the picture of the Swedish cover (only the first book in the series got translated) my mind went; Yep, that’s the one! Apparently it’s the first Manga to be translated and released in Sweden.