V is for Villanelle

A Villanelle is a nineteen-line poem. The rhyming scheme is aba aba aba aba aba abaa.

The first and the third lines in the first stanza repeat throughout the poem. Both lines appear in the last two lines.
(Source: Shadow Poetry http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/villanelle.html)

**After writing this, I decided I don’t like this style poem. Maybe it’s that I’m not doing it right, but it’s very cumbersome to me**

We All Fall Down

We all fall down, our souls to bare
We sang of ashes and hit the ground
Take my hand; I’ll meet you there

A child’s game we used to share
But ashes fall and they make no sound
We all fall down, our souls to bare

What must I do to show I care?
For in the ashes I, too, have drowned
Take my hand; I’ll meet you there

We played with songs of ladies fair
Along with ashes, bridges are bound
We all fall down, our souls to bare

When you need to come up for air
From ashes and rubble all around
Take my hand; I’ll meet you there

You look for peace upon your lair
Among these ashes I will be found
We all fall down, our souls to bare
Take my hand; I’ll meet you there

*****

Ring around the rosie
a pocket full of posie
ashes, ashes
we all fall down.

*****

London Bridge is falling down
falling down
falling down
London Bridge is falling down
My fair lady

U is for Up

U is for Up
A cinquain poem.

O is for Obsidian

Refined in fire before your birth
In a molten tempest below the earth
A powerful force of glowing red
From an explosive rage you made your bed
Your living colors changed into black
Exposed your weakness in conchoidal crack
But in that weakness, came edges honed
With opaque fractures that cut to the bone
Mystery in darkness deep inside
Brings light to truth, with nowhere to hide

Yep, I just wrote a poem about a rock. I am officially a nerd.

E is for Exploration

 

Day Five of the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge

E is for Exploration

take my hand, come with me
we will go where the land
surrenders to the sea.
there we’ll find treasures lost–
iridescent trinkets
worn with time, turned and tossed

hold my hand, and we’ll go
where the sky reaches down
to the pines as they grow.
we’ll find a quiet place,
watch meadow flowers dance
in all their breeze-blown grace

take me to rocks of red–
layers of earth whisper
stories of those long dead.
we will seek, we will find
ancient paths made of stone
and journey where they wind

take my hand, hold on tight
we can be together
as the day turns to night.
the stars will understand
what i see in your eyes
if you just take my hand.

© Sara Jones 2014

Under the Oak Tree

I find comfort in the shade of your arms
Like a child in a mother’s embrace.
And it was from childhood, you knew me.
Laughed with me,
Observed me.
Guided me as I wandered, discovered
The gifts you left me on the forest floor.
Gifts as precious as gems in my young mind.

I cried for you when my sister’s knife cut.
She carved her name and left you deeply scarred.
I fumed with anger when I saw you bleed,
And I knew
It caused pain.
Years later, the evidence of her crime
Remained, though faded and stretched with your growth.
In your own way, you remember my tears.

Now I have acquired scars of my own.
I, too, have bled from wounds that cut deeply.
You notice those scars and you cry for me,
As I did
Cry for you.
Just like you, the scars have faded with time.
I grow, and they become harder to see,
We share this- a bond that can’t be broken.

I am no longer the child you knew.
Yet, I return and know I am welcome.
Your arms reach wide, offering your shelter.
I take it,
Needing it.
Feeling as though I have stepped back in time,
I touch you- our souls again connecting.
Quietly, we rejoice in our union.

Your exterior beautiful with age,
Speaks of wisdom and long ago stories.
If only I could reach deep to your soul!
I would know
History.
I might see the little girl that was me
Before I became the woman I am.
A life that changed before your watchful eyes.

© Sara Jones