The forms of fear are passing,
gone like fog away.
The terror's toss and clashing,
shrinks before the day,
while hope as tough as violets
rises from the ground.
Spry catbirds concoct triolets;
hidden songs find sound.
The trillium's unfurling.
lady's slippers dance.
the butterflies go twirling
free in the expanse.
The forms of fear are passing
golden chaff. Away!
The fountains fill with splashing.
The children shout and play.
Oh, this is excellent! I can't tell you how much I like "hope as tough as violets"! The whole poem is a celebration, and a cause for celebration!
ReplyDeleteWould the last line work better without the definite article? "Children shout and play" -- more true to the metre that you've successfully established! Something to ponder, perhaps.
But yes, an excellence and a cause for joy this Saturday morning!
Thanks, Thomas! The pronounced meter and rhyme in this one feels a little strange to me, personally, because I don't usually create with that style. My reasoning for the last line was that it seemed to feel more "settled" when it matched the preceding one--kind of like the poem had been rocking along and finally came to a resting place. Maybe that only makes sense to me, though, and in reality the change is just distracting.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the celebration AND the suggestion. I value both!
You could perhaps leave out the article before "fountains" also to keep the consistency. I too love this poem. It's very active and hopeful with so much beauty in the images.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Dr. Impson!
ReplyDelete