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Poetry
May 16, 2019 2:00:15 GMT
Post by Mātōnya on May 16, 2019 2:00:15 GMT
I decided to challenge myself by writing a poem on the spot in the manner of a Latvian daina (but in English, don't worry). I am writing this as I post it, hopefully taking me less than a few minutes. The rules of dainas are:
1. Trochaic or dactylic meter only, four syllables per line.
2. Caesurae at the end of each line, but cannot be placed within a word (i.e., lines must not spill into each other).
3. Four lines per stanza.
4. Must be evocative.
5. Must display some sound harmony through alliteration and assonance.
6. Must have some anaphora, metaphor, etc.
So here goes. I feel inspired by visiting with my mother today and my relationship with her.
Aušrinė shines,
Smiling at me.
Mother dearest,
Mātienė drinks.
I flow from you,
You are my spring.
You are my sea,
I flow to you.
Māte, meita, [Mother, daughter,]
You're my zeme. [You're my earth.]
I bloomed from you,
I am of you.
Mātienė sighs,
Smiling at you.
Darling daughter,
Aušrinė waves.
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Poetry
May 17, 2019 13:17:39 GMT
Post by Mātōnya on May 17, 2019 13:17:39 GMT
New poem for today about the linden tree (liepa) in my front yard. I love this tree. She smells amazing with her flowers (though she attracts every single nectar-eating insect within a 2 mile radius, it seems, and drips nectar everywhere, so don't park underneath her or you will need to scrub your car clean after you chase away the bees who have landed on it to eat the nectar). She's a great shade tree and her roots and trunk are perfect for a seat and I love to sit under her and just have a quiet moment. Lindens have very close branches and the wood is soft and the leaves are broad, so any breeze makes them shiver. The sound is almost like quaking aspen/white poplar. The name of the linden in Latvian (and Lithuanian) is liepa, but the locative singular declension liepā means "beside the linden" or "at the place of the linden" or perhaps "under the linden" depending on the context. This declension is also just used in Latvian as a grammatical equivalent to the definite article, so you could translate it as just "the linden" as well.  |
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Poetry
May 18, 2019 15:24:59 GMT
Post by Mātōnya on May 18, 2019 15:24:59 GMT
Here's a poem I wrote this morning called "Vecenē" about an old woman I met on the road yesterday during my walk who stopped and talked to me for a while unexpectedly while we stood together on the sidewalk. It was a very moving experience for me.
Old woman there along the way,
Matronly and lithe, alert,
Sōwel falling, end of day,
Brushing past against my skirt.
"What a day!" she called to me.
Engrossed I was within my mind.
"Yes!" I answered, "Bloom and tree,
Their scent is all around, I find."
Then her eyes looked down the road,
Twinkling, shining like her smile.
I stopped to breathe, for I had strode
And hastened for the previous mile.
"Ha!" said she, "How about some snow?
One more storm to end the season?"
Scoffed I did and shook my head.
"Snow?" said I, "You've lost your reason!"
Ice was broken by our greeting.
Then you said, "I've just retired."
Our passing turned into a meeting.
"And if not, I'd have been fired!"
Intrigued about your occupation,
"Great!" I said, "It must feel nice!"
But in your face was hesitation:
"Snowstorms scared me with their ice."
Forty-three short years of guiding
Girls and boys across the street.
"In the snow the cars were sliding,
Salt and slush below their feet."
Sighing said, "Those drivers, crazy,
Brushed up twice against my coat!"
Then you laughed, "Some kids were lazy,
Some were friendly, some remote."
Sighing deeper, "I lost three.
One boy abused, his dad, a cop!"
I guess some didn't care to see
Her sign upheld, emblazoned: STOP.
"No one can stop everything,
And yet you did so very much.
Here I shall your praises sing,
I don't believe you're out of touch."
I saw you loved the kids you crossed,
Every one as if your own.
When those three of yours were lost,
You felt it deep in every bone.
You said, "Well, now I must get home."
We had talked for a quite a while.
Left me on the streets to roam,
"'Twas nice to see your lovely smile."
"I wish you all the best," I said,
Knowing you were all alone.
All the children that you'd led
I wished would call you on the phone.
But there we parted ways at last,
I and the woman on the way,
Reminiscing of her past
Amid the twilight of the day.
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Post by Mātōnya on May 19, 2019 16:20:14 GMT
I'm pretty proud of this one. I wrote it today after church and it's based on my mother.  |
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