His sing-song question fell on no ears but hers, deaf all others to its celebratory tones the night of All Hallow’s Eve.
Tenor voice attuned to hearth, lights in hands they enter to find soul cakes laid on barrels, beer and apples.
None heard him but her, would never leave her till her heart stopped, like his: a toast before departing, as midnight strikes.
“I will come and sing no more ’til this time next year.”
Soul cakes? A-souling? Unfamiliar with these terms are you, like I was? According to wikipedia, soul cakesare spicy shortbread-like biscuits given out to “soulers” who come round during the days of Allhallowtide singing and saying prayers, a’souling, in fact.
One traditional song, “A-Souling,” was made familiar to us by Peter, Paul, and Mary who sung it as a Christmas song, which for most parts of England it has become. The group Lothlorien sings it in the traditional mood of Allhallowtide.
Along the rolling hills I hear your mournful singing haunting clear yet windblown.
Under the moon’s vapid eye how can I, elf, to you deny your windsongs?
I’ll keep you under lock and key lest you flee and escape from me as windstorm.
The elvish king shall have you back when he returns the one I lack now windbound.
On Hallow’s Eve we’ll make a swap my child returned, you with your harp, — home windward.
Grace at dVerse challenges us today to write a Compound Word Verse, an unfamiliar form to most ous I daresay. She writes: "The Compound Word Verse is a poetry form invented by Margaret R. Smith that consists of five 3-line stanzas, for a total of 15 lines. The last line of each stanza ends in a compound word and these compound words share a common stem word which is taken from the title. (In the first example below the stem word is “moon” from the title “Moonlighting”; the compound words related to the title are moondust, moonbeams, moonsongs, etc.)
The Compound Word Verse (3 lines) has a set rhyme scheme and meter as follows:
Rhyme Scheme: a,a,b
Syllable/Meter: 8, 8, 3
Click on Mr. Linky to read more and join in!
Strange the tale of an elven king’s son Who lured a maid into the land of the young. There she took tea, fated never to return To the land of the living where hopes reigned.
Once she escaped her besom buddies of elven-land But euphoria died when her long black locks turned white As haunting memories of the land of the young Made her yearn for the revelry of elven friends.
On the steps of a cathedral she stood skyward gazing Behind her from the woods the elven king’s son stood imploring But she had found a love beside which earthly magic paled A love eternal from her Maker that over all prevailed.
“I cannot go with you, sweet heir of elven halls Though surely will I miss you and all your kith and kin. I have chosen wisely with wisdom from above To live and die a daughter of the God who does me love.”
The elven lords and ladies left behind remained wondering Their days of wine, their nights of dance, youth forever blooming Thrown aside by a poor maid as if they all were nothing Impressed them not, sincere or not, and soon she was forgotten.
Crimson's Creative Challenge #154 prompt: Image credit Crispina Kemp
RagTag Daily Prompt Thursday: "Euphoria"
Sammi's 13 Days of Samhain vol ii: Day 2 – "Besom Buddies"
Eugi's Weekly Prompt: "Haunting"
I might parrot-fashion a torn heart question short-term memory lost far off find the Sultan’s three wives above the flame trees satiated, muffled by autumns roots wounded in the woods snaking whisper: find a cracked bell voice of the rain under my tongue wandering scent
Go nowhere: red fox, intrepid a straight man with name that fails to show, lost and found on the Kansas Prairie
I stalk: ragweed, Calvin Coolidge missing persons, prize peacock, around the breakfast table, hot air in the mirror-testing home, little fool
‘And the lost were found,’ select: response, resolution, finding, return to re-write or even reorder visiting gatherings of fourteen poker hands, under the unturned stone, hidden deep, secret, wakening, to the rain crying.
What is a found poem? Click here.Laura at dVerse Poetics: Lost Poems and Found Poetryasks that we
pick one of two options, of which I picked "finding a poem within a
poem or prose." Instead of selecting only one of the ‘lost poems’
(or one of your own finding where something or someone is lost )
and re-writing it is as a ‘Found poem’. I stretched the rule to
include all of Laura's prompt, prose and poetry, to compose my found poem.So I encourage you to go to the dVerse poetics prompt to
see the text used, containing Susan Rich, Pablo Neruda, Peter
Schneider, Maxine Chernoff, and Laura Bloomsbury's prose.
Read more at Mr. Linky and join in!
She came sailing in — foxgloved murder digitalis among shape-shifters in ash-colored silk an Austen novel in her head drysalter’s pharmacopœia of prurience in everyone else’s closet Gothic pawned in a room of Macbeths unshriven, exhumed desire — sailing in, lighting torches blanketed fire, lavender swan.
At d’Verse Sarah asked us to write a Quadrille of 44 words using the word "Ash."
This is a reworking of an earlier poem.
Click on Mr. Linky to read more.
Retro Haiku 3-3-3
Cee's FOTD, See the beautiful Autumn Mums on her site.Flower of the Day Challenge (FOTD).
"Please feel free to post every day or when you you feel like it.
Don’t forget that my FOTD challenge accepts gardens, leaves and berries as well as flowers."
Eugi's Weekly Prompt -- Afterglow -- October 14, 2021
Honey Humberg had waited for this day all her life.
She’d worked and saved to build the “Humberg Bus” from scratch, designing, commissioning and assembling it, part by part. She painted it in homage to the DIY hippies that were her inspiration, free thinkers and dreamers all. She would tour Europe showcasing her singing talent and the world would fall at her feet.
In the square, the crowd cheered when the Humberg Bus arrived.
They left when she began singing.
“How much you want for the bus?” a man asked.
“One billion pounds,” she said bitterly, turning away.
Warning: Sensitive topic broached.
Björn at dVerse: MTB asks us to write a cadralor, which poetic form consists of "5, unrelated, numbered stanzaic images, each of which can stand alone as a poem, is fewer than 10 lines, and ideally constrains all stanzas to the same number of lines. Imagery is crucial to cadralore: each stanza should be a whole, imagist poem, almost like a scene from a film, or a photograph. The fifth stanza acts as the crucible, alchemically pulling the unrelated stanzas together into a love poem. By “love poem,” we mean that your fifth stanza illuminates a gleaming thread that runs obliquely through the unrelated stanzas and answers the compelling question: 'For what do you yearn?'" Click on Mr. Linky to join us.
A bird cries over the tele- phone wire, is it you? is it done? over black shrouded head
Shiny pruning shears in her gloved hands, methodically apply to de- locate dead heads, snip, snip
There once was a small torso in a womb severally dislodged by forceps into medical waste
If death comes in slippered feet, will they curl at the ends or just your lips? Mother?
All the ghosts have left, barren in winter, the autumn leaves twist the sea breezes rustle in her mind.