28 February 2015


Black rook
sweep rolling clouds
and clear wide fields of blues;
caw raucous chants from beechen thrones
to Farm…

White sheep
stir rippling grass
and shift wide clouds of greens;
baa mellow tunes from grassy realms
to Hall…

* * *
Here’s a short poem that I prepared earlier and forgot to post. Foolish P-i-R! <(:-)

On arrival at Postlip, I spent some time surveying the view of the Farm from the Hall while recovering from the journey. (Mr T. is a delightful driver, but my knee injury has worsened this year.) The harsh calls of rooks led my gaze to their location, high amid the branches of beeches. Then I heard sheep bleating from the far fields, so I watched the dear woolly ones awhile.

It seemed there was a dialogue between rooks and sheep, which I try to re-create in my poem by merging their scenery a little. Each verse is a cinquain, a poem of five lines in which the first has one stress, the second two, the third three, the fourth four – and the fifth, one. My lines are iambic, so the rhythm is ~ – / ~ – ~ – / ~ – ~ – ~ – / ~ – ~ – ~ – ~ – / ~ – (for further information, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cinquain)

The cinquain works well for building tension, then abruptly easing off. I’ve used it elsewhere in this way; here, each last line with its trailing ellipsis hopes to lead the reader into the next verse – not only 1 to 2, but also 2 to 1 on repeat. I write ‘wide’ twice to create an echo… echo… echo…