Midweek Poetry: The Raven by daintydora

An attempt today at a poem in Triolet form, where the eight lines follow the repetition ABaAabAB. I like repetition in a poem because it serves to emphasise particular words and create a rhythm. I think the Triolet would usually feature iambic tetrameter too, but one step at a time...

I chose the raven as the subject of the poem because I always feel birds are so intuitive and carry messages through the skies. Ravens particularly are also harbingers of fate (doom?), destiny and magic.

January feels like a somewhat fateful, dark and brooding month.

The Raven

The Raven
The raven came for you today
He stayed a while, then flew away.
(You wouldn't wish him to stay?)
dreich  silhouette above the city's decay
strutting back and forth in my window bay.
The raven came for you today -
He stayed a while then flew away.

Midweek Poetry: I saw a white peacock by daintydora

Poetic pictures and a white peacock (or is it a pea-hen?), seen and experienced while visiting Isola Bella, Lake Maggiore, Italy. White Peacock, Isola Bella, Italy


I saw a white peacock pecking
in the grass. Pecking in the grass
and flouncing with wild flowers
cultivating a bright white
relief in the green.


I saw a white peacock
at Isola Bella, a place where
cherubs and urchins preen
mystical, majestic,
with clam shells and butterflies
and a unicorn up with the gods;
a sight for all to see.


When I saw the white peacock
he called to me
from behind the maze, beyond the pond
as the fountain spit gallantly
on and on, deliberate under the trees.


Fountain at Isola Bella, ItalyView from Isola Bella

Such a beautiful island, most befitting its name. The gardens were laid out over 10 levels and the colours of the flowers against the bright blue hues of Lake Maggiore and the backdrop of Stresa were a meditation for the eyes.

Garden at Isola BellaMazed Gardens, Isola Bella, Italy White Peacock, Isola Bella, Italy

Peacock-peekaboo! I feel honoured to have been in the company of a white peacock.


Midweek Poetry: Golden Eagle Soars by daintydora

This week's Midweek Poetry slot is another creative challenge and link-up with Karen my blog-buddy and #creativesister from Leaf & Petal. We each picked 5 random words, making 10 words to incorporate into a poem. They are:

Lens, Exquisite, Forgiven, Soar, Cat, White, Blancmange, Lush, Hedge, Blackbird

Golden Eagle Soars

Quite a challenge, but then creativity is never a challenge, really. You just go with something; follow a thought as it burrows down a particular rabbit hole.

Here goes:


The lens was hidden,
buried deep in the hedge
amidst green leaves and twigs and nests,
trained on the exquisite sight
of a Golden Eagle.


This was no common-or-garden blackbird
(though everyone loves a blackbird - right?)
- including next door's cat.


But this was a lush bird
with a wing-span too incredible to mention
and a prowess that preceded him and so
when he touched the sky - oh how
those wings could soar! High
up until you could be forgiven for thinking
you'd never seen him at all; his white
breast a fringe of blancmange
akin to clouds in delicate repose
where the lens can't reach - just a mirage;
an exquisite mirage.


But we got him from the hedge, captured
once, now, forever.


Words + birds = bird poetry. Oh how I love it.

Now read what Karen came up with.


Midweek Poetry: Jaybird, Songbird by daintydora

This isn't a new poem, but I thought I'd republish it here today. It is short and silly and it rhymes, so it's a perfect midweek pick-me-up.

Jaybird, Songbird sing for me: Midweek Poetry

Jaybird, Songbird,
brown-spotted Thrush.
Jaybird, Songbird -
night-time crush.
Jaybird, Songbird
oh how twee;
Jaybird, Songbird
sing for me.

These lines came to me as I walked home from work one night a few years ago, photographing the broken skeletons of leaves that lay in my path, and pondering a situation I was involved in that had become all-consuming, exhausting and miserable.

The rhythm of my steps seemed to beat out the words, and I was drawn to the idea of repetition as I found it comforting.

I suppose the idea of the birds singing sweetly in the trees - particularly the Songbird - and going about their business as the season changed from summer to autumn, felt uplifting and hopeful.

Possibilities everywhere, in the hedgerows and trees, in the sky, in my own back garden, in my head.

I have a lot of ideas for bird poems, both frivolous and dark.

Watch this space.

'Found' Bird Poetry - The Dawn Chorus by daintydora

A blackbird in full song - April (original book illustration by Peter Partington)April is a month with a loud soundtrack. No male bird with pretensions towards reproduction can keep its mouth shut at this time of year. The atmosphere is always heavy with song, ready to drench any listener who steps outside.

The Dawn Chorus
In the half light,
a company of sopranos
indignantly loud -
again and again.
Throaty and deep,
 large eyes
a five-note coo.
Wild sounding air -
in the half light.

Suburbia sleeps
through rhythmic racket,
again and again.
By half past five
business has been done.

The above poem was constructed using the technique of 'found poetry', whereby words are chosen from a book or magazine (in this case a book - The Secret Lives of Garden Birds by Dominic Couzens and illustrated by Peter Partington).

The book is laid out in sections that detail bird activity and habits for each month of the year. I chose April, drawing a crude bird outline on the page entitled 'The Dawn Chorus'.

I wrote down on a separate piece of paper each word or phrase that the outline crossed, using only these words or phrases to create the poem.

Lines can be repeated; a technique I have used here. There are no real rules - it's about being spontaneous and 'finding' poems in everyday texts from books to street signs to newspaper headlines. Any words, from anywhere.

I love the way this plays into the idea that all the words we have at our disposal have been 'recycled'; used again; re-constructed in another form to piece together a new story and a new rhythm.

I am quite pleased with how this one has turned out. If I had more words, I could have done better, but the point is not to create a masterpiece, but to create something - something different to your usual style or using material that is outwith your expertise - using limited resources - which in this case is words.

A quick and fun exercise in creativity.