Tuesday, April 10, 2007
through with you
my little child.
You may flap your wings
but not soar that high yet.
Danger awaits in the mist
hiding in the crannies of walls
waiting for the waves to set it free.
You would not like the tyranny of time.
Run like a rat amiss of every turn
because you rushed - an unprepared child.
Test the air, the breeze, and water
and tell me they are just right.
Then I shall be at peace,
let you go and run.
The world is yours
Created about twenty years ago by an Arkansas poet named Etheree Taylor Armstrong, this titled form, the Etheree, consists of ten lines of unmetered and unrhymed verse, the first line having one syllable, each succeeding line adding a syllable, with the total syllable count being fifty-five.
The poetry form, Etheree, consists of 10 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 syllables. Etheree can also be reversed and written 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Reversed Etheree: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 Double Etheree: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 ...Triple Etheree, Quadruple Etheree, and so on! Mirrored Etheree repeats the first stanza back in reverse order.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
when leaves start to fall,
die, wither, and be buried
by the winter snow
I shall be five and O.
I still have yet to earn
an obelisk to mark my grave;
a cusp of three gold stars
to catch rays of the morning sun
or the gentle breeze that echoes
explosion of twenty one guns
No crown rests on my head
just streaks of silver
on my thin mane;
traces of fat on my drooping skin
bulging eyes from sleepless nights.
Neither my words nor my brushes
have produced any lightning.
My pen is becoming stale
but the sun only rests
at night and sure to rise
in the morning,
when I shall be five and O
leaves may fall to die and wither
and be buried by winter snow
but my swan is not singing yet.
For fall is only at the northern hemisphere
not here in the tropics where I shall be
when I turn to be five and O