When poems I can’t write,
Word’s fire soon reignite…
Weary, I find respite,
Weaving dream paths by night,
Wandering too, by daylight,
Welcomes thoughts in free flight…
Walking brings me delight!
Thanks to Caddo Spumoni‘s introduction to this form, I wrote the original poem for Poet’s Corner.
This looks like a difficult style. Can see why it’s called the Pleiades too, which I think is really cool.
Seems simple…7 lines…s syllables per line, rhyme not required…one word title…and the beginning of each line with the same letter as the title. more complicated then I thought though.
Yeah. I’ve come to believe that the easier it looks, the harder it really is.
I think you’re right about that, as I’ve learned from haiku. Who’d’ve thought 17 syllables could take you sometimes an hour to do! A whole lot of what people are calling haiku, isn’t.
this is a wonderful poem Bastet, and that you also managed to write it in a very natural rhyme and tempo. so nicely done, i enjoyed this a lot.
Thanks for your encouraging comment and I’m happy you enjoyed it! I usually know where I’m starting, the surprise is where the poem goes 😉
heh, isn’t it though? it’s the mystery and miracle of poetry that what we begin to write is not at all what we expect,
our words have their own ideas! lol!
True. I just read a short piece by Baricco an Italian author, he says at a certain point that when someone asks why he writes a piece the true answer should be…I don’t know, because when one begins to create something new, they are actually on the sitting boarder of chaos where the story doesn’t exist yet.
Words that don’t come are the writers greatest issue
Sometimes you just have to play with the language
let the words take some shape
before you know it there is a story
to save or to dump, that is the question.
I save as you never know when a line might come in handy
I actually rarely have a problem with not being able to write. I just start writing as you say and let the story or poem form by itself. It has happened, and I’ve got some saved drafts to prove it, that sometimes the piece just goes nowhere, but one never knows, it has happened that one of those pieces comes to life. Basically I was talking about walking in this poem, when things get too “heavy” and I can’t read or write, I walk.
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