courtesy: http://www.rtjsjg.com/data/out/260/7902387-life-in-desert-wallpapers.jpg
Wednesday, May 3, 2017
Ode to a lonely sapling...
ah you, the silent child of broken shell
that heaving through the dreadful red earth dull
sweltering summer brought you up unsown
in those dry tracts, to live you came unknown
....
....
....
....
wanted to write a poetry that is, an ode in essence and a sonnet in structure. but stopped with just a quatrain, my extremely limited familiarity with this language made it tough to complete the entire sonnet.
though matched the choices of words to go with the iambic pentameter rhythmic feet, i deliberately broke the ABABABCABC rhyming of sonnet in this quatrain. having spent just a few hours, i couldnot churn out anything better than this.
just as the reflected image of the sun can be seen in a stagnant, still water in a brook or a muddy-puddle, i attempted to mirror or copy keats and wordsworth, without least success. horacian and pindaric odes are totally beyond my capacity.
it is known that odes are written on a reflective mood, about things not present. that contextual, thematic necessary forced me to adapt the title ode. this was about that which could have been present but is not. ode was the way to express it.
that heaving through the dreadful red earth dull
sweltering summer brought you up unsown
in those dry tracts, to live you came unknown
....
....
....
....
wanted to write a poetry that is, an ode in essence and a sonnet in structure. but stopped with just a quatrain, my extremely limited familiarity with this language made it tough to complete the entire sonnet.
though matched the choices of words to go with the iambic pentameter rhythmic feet, i deliberately broke the ABABABCABC rhyming of sonnet in this quatrain. having spent just a few hours, i couldnot churn out anything better than this.
just as the reflected image of the sun can be seen in a stagnant, still water in a brook or a muddy-puddle, i attempted to mirror or copy keats and wordsworth, without least success. horacian and pindaric odes are totally beyond my capacity.
it is known that odes are written on a reflective mood, about things not present. that contextual, thematic necessary forced me to adapt the title ode. this was about that which could have been present but is not. ode was the way to express it.
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