I Am The Storm

you see the rain, but I         know a storm
war wounds, arrest, attest   seeping fear
your view askew, askant whispered form

say you— let’s run, let’s hide, disappear
I’m blind, recursive blight,         but I see
war wounds, arrest, attest, seeping fear

look out! the peak, an edge tumbling scree
your plea, the sound       a violent         birth
I’m blind, recursive blight,               but I see

youth, Mine? womb ripped beneath Mother Earth
a voice, a breath, a sigh,                        succor mist
your plea, the sound                     a violent       birth

your knees they shake, knob white. slumber tryst,
you seek       an innocence                     billow white
a voice, a breath, a sigh,                         succor mist

you wait, ghost blank, a pause, thunder smite
you see the rain, but I                    know a storm
you seek      an innocence               billow white
your view askew, askant           whispered form

© Grace Black

Poetry Month continues, and this is Day 16 of NaPoWriMo for me. Today’s prompt was to write a terzanelle. Wowzers! This was no easy feat. Scansion hunting feels like the inside of a lecture hall, all over again. Isn’t that why we learn the rules of meter and rhyme? So we can learn what rules to break–toss out the bits and bobs that don’t feel quite right to our authentic arty ways, strange creatures, the artists’ lot.

Meh, here is my rusty attempt for today.

30 poems in 30 days. Do you dabble in word play as well? Let’s create 30 in 30.

Love and Ink,

Grace

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