Poetry

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Permalink Reply by scribbler on February 27, 2011 at 4:20am

No can't say I have Robert. My poetry's all non-rhyming. Would you mind posting that and sharing it with us? I would really like to see it. :) I may experiment once I get a better idea about it. :)

Permalink Reply by Robert L. Allen on February 27, 2011 at 8:09am

  I don't know if I love this, it was never revised...                                         

 

 A BB A Poem

 

Sitting next to the coziness of a warm fire

another year gone by

December draws its last breath to die

at the strike of midnight introducing January’s sire.

 

The cold bitter wind

covering the earth

chill even the deepest of worth

to February’s spin.

 

Days are warmer and the month is broken

by fewer hours of twenty-eight night

see the stars, bright

listen carefully to the voice of March, softly spoken. 

 

At least we hope she is well

for what will arrive

a lamb, a lion, then strive

how she comes or how she leaves will be announced in April’s tell.

 

For the first time in a long while

the hardened land moves to spring

it’s nothing special to some, but to others, everything

and May, Oh yes, it brings a smile.

 

Drawn from the earth by new birthing bloom

puddles of water, well in need,

quench the thirst of fresh laid seed

to make room for June’s boom.

 

Dangerous thunder storms moving across the state

days expire onto the collapse of night

while leaving behind the congregating might

but trade not the coming of July for she will not wait.       

 

Hot humid conditions, spoil the best

dreams of cooler days and cleansing rain

ease the strain                                                                   

as August captures the last breath west.                             

 

The year has come and gone beyond its half

rain is short in demand

the black rich dirt, left to sand

wishing for September’s laugh.

 

She is welcomed by the rise of defeat                  

as so much is yet to gain

beneath autumn’s pain

dying in the harvest of October’s wheat.                 

 

The earth once more release

colors beyond imagination

with no contemplation

offered onto November’s white fleece.

 

The sound of quiet, found only in still

captures winter’s cold harsh meek

braided into its weakest peak

as December once again allows its will.

Permalink Reply by Keith Rice on March 30, 2011 at 1:37am

I like this a lot.I can see that it would be quite a challenge.Well done.

Permalink Reply by Robert L. Allen on April 1, 2011 at 7:37am

Thank you! I use twelve segments but it can be shorter. Hope to see what you create...