Consumed

Today we constantly consume
to try and sate our avarice,
although it bears our future doom.
Today we constantly consume
while spirits fade, cadaverous.
Today we constantly consume
to try and sate our avarice.

Caught in the Wind

leaves blown

Caught in the wind
like lonely crow’s caw of despair.
Caught in the wind
words spilled, lost to the world, then pinned
against a branch – a scrap of prayer,
tattered and flapping, yet still there,
caught in the wind.

This is a Rondelet (see below for sepcifics)  written in response to “Fussy Little Forms” at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.

I couldn’t find who took the photo.  If it’s yours let me know and I’ll either credit you, or remove it, as you choose.

The Rondelet is a seven line French poetry from with the following rhyme and meter:

Line 1 :: A—four syllables
Line 2 :: b—eight syllables
Line 3 :: A—repeat of line one
Line 4 :: a—eight syllables
Line 5 :: b—eight syllables
Line 6 :: b—eight syllables
Line 7 :: A—repeat of line one

Making Tracks

Ptoto by Douglas Sailsbury

Ptoto by Douglas Sailsbury

My mind, my heart, my thoughts are racing;
it’s time to leave this land of lacking
cause now it’s clear, what I am facing.
My mind, my heart, my thoughts are racing,
all night, awake, I spend it pacing.
With morning light to finish packing,
my mind, my heart, my thoughts are racing.
it’s time to leave this land of lacking.

Originally posted on my other blog, Writing in the Bachs and the photo prompt is from IGRT.