Duality

Sun,
shadow,
light and dark
merge into one,
brighten the forest,
eclipse the dawning morn.
Do you understand these words?
I am a woman; you’re a man.
I am a Christian; you don’t believe
in anything you cannot see or touch
or comprehend in terms of science.
Together we are Everyman
who seeks to taste the meaning
of a life unfolding
in obscurity.
Come with me, then.
taste beauty,
flowers,
joy.

 

Sun Drenched (Photo credit: Digimist)

Posted for Meeting the Bar at dVerse Poets’ Pub where I have the pleasure of hosting today. The prompt is BALANCE. I’ve written this as an Etheree, a form in which line one has one syllable, line two has two and builds in like manner to ten syllables and then diminishes back to one. The pattern may be repeated as often as you want.

Hope to see you at the Pub! It’s open in just 42 minutes!

 

Duality–An Etheree

Image via Wikipedia

My post for dVerse Poetics (Saturday, 10/22)–a wonderful prompt offered by Mark Kerstetter is located here: https://liv2write2day.wordpress.com/2011/06/05/sweet-painted-lady-a-sonnet/

 

Duality

Sun,
shadow,
light and dark
merge into one,
brighten the forest,
eclipse the dawning morn.
Do you understand these words?
I am a woman; you’re a man.
I am a Christian; you don’t believe
in anything you cannot see or touch
or comprehend in terms of science.
Together we are Everyman
who seeks to taste the meaning
of a life unfolding
in obscurity.
Come with me, then.
taste beauty,
flowers,
joy.

Thank you, Gay, at dVerse Poets’ Pub for prompting us to write an Etheree or other form poem. Check out some more at http://dversepoets.com/  

Poetry Potluck–Mountains

Image by mlhradio via Flickr

 

 Mount Whitney, California

Poem submitted to Jingle’s Poetry Rally:

http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com/ 

 

 

 

I-395 South of Reno
to Lone Pine
An Etheree

Lone
Pine sits
nestled in
McKinley’s breast,
waits for passersby
to linger in her shade.
Sierra Mountain flowers
boast of vivid hues amidst the
craggy heights and verdant valley green.
Just to the north the camp of Manzanar
speaks of troubled times and war-torn worlds.
We hesitate then drive on past,
stop for a break, admire the
snow-capped peaks, gas up then
leave before the sun
withdraws its light
and leaves us
in the
dark.

 

Etheree “How To”

After reading comments about my etheree posted for One Shot Wednesday, I realized I should have/could have posted a bit about the form.

The etheree is a little-known poetry format, consisting of ten lines with graduated syllables. It was created in the 1980’s by Arkansas poet Etheree Taylor Armstrong and named after her. The first line is a monosyllabic word; the second line has two syllables, and so on, until the tenth line with, ultimately, ten syllables. The 10 lines can be repeated in descending order, the ascending for as many verses as you like. The most important elements of this format are the etheree structure, coherence (pulling ideas together to create a complete thought) and focusing on imagery.

It can be a bit challenging because of the limitations imposed by the syllable restrictions, but I believe that those of you who have worked with haiku and other similar poetic forms will ease into it without too much difficulty. I’d like to invite t you to try it out and post a link in the comments section of this post.

One Shot Wednesday–“Flight off of Half Dome”

Image via Wikipedia

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Flight Off of Half Dome
An etheree

Walk
alone
in autumn
below the blue
canopy of sky.
Leaves crunch beneath your feet.
Where do crickets go on cold
fall days wrapped up in brilliant hues?
Why do the horses romp in sunlit
fields of green with wind whipping through their manes?

Where do crickets go on chilled winter days?
Yosemite-place of the gaping
mouth-belonged to the Miwok
until the white man came.
“Manifest Destiny”
they called it—God’s will.
The valley was
theirs to romp
in sun-
light.

Mi-
wok fled
in autumn
under the black
night sky in silent
flight off Half-Dome or through
wet leaves that could not crunch. Their
tears fell into the dark chasm
drowning the crickets who hid beneath
scarlet shrouds of all that came before death.

395 South of Reno to the Desert: A Poem

An Etheree

Lone
Pine sits
nestled in
McKinley’s breast,
waits for passersby
to linger in her shade.
Sierra Mountain flowers
boast of vivid hues amidst the
craggy heights and verdant valley green.
Just to the north the camp of Manzanar
speaks of troubled times and war-torn worlds.
We hesitate then drive on past,
stop for a break, admire the
snow-capped peaks, gas up then
leave before the sun
withdraws its light
and leaves us
in the
dark.

The challenge was to write a poem about a city. Well, Lone Pine probably would never fit the city category but it’s a town that calls forth poetry. I chose to write another “Etheree”–such a fun, disciplined form. Hope you enjoy.

(Etheree: 1 syllable, increase syllable each line to 10, then back to 1. Can repeat process to add more verses.)

Poetry Prompt–An Etheree

Here’s a challenge for you poets out there. An etheree is a poetry format, consisting of ten lines with graduated syllables. It’s named for its creator–Etheree Taylor Armstrong.

The first line is a monosyllabic word; the second line has two syllables, and so on, until the tenth line with, ultimately, ten syllables. You can write as many verses as you like.

This is my example, written when the Nevada Museum of Art had a Yosemite exhibit. The Miwok were the Indians who were displaced by European Americans invoking “manifest destiny.” I like to format this poem by centering the page, but I’m not astute enough on this blog to format it that way.

Flight Off of Half Dome

Walk
alone
in autumn
below the blue
canopy of sky.
Leaves crunch beneath your feet.
Where do crickets go on cold
fall days wrapped up in brilliant hues?
Why do the horses romp in sunlit
fields of green with wind whipping through their manes?

Where do crickets go on chilled winter days?
Yosemite-place of the gaping
mouth-belonged to the Miwok
until the white man came.
“Manifest Destiny”
they called it—God’s will.
The valley was
theirs to romp
in sun-
light.

Mi-
wok fled
in autumn
under the black
night sky in silent
flight off Half-Dome or through
wet leaves that could not crunch. Their
tears fell into the dark chasm
drowning the crickets who hid beneath
scarlet shrouds of all that came before death.