The Sun

The sun turns her face
behind grey clouds and weeps
to see the daffodils fade away.

White cherry blossom pom-poms
waving in the breeze call
her back to smile again.

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Spring Englyn

Snowdrops now their dainty heads show, green stems
extend through cloak of snow.
Signs of Spring; we watch them grow.

Following soon come tulips fair, and bold
gold daffodils bloom where
now the ground is dark and bare.

The seasons are changing, the sun returns
and warms the earth, to shun
Winter’s grip; her battle won.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Whilst looking for something else on the Internet I came across the Englyn form. This is, I understand, an old Bardic poetic form and I thought it would be fun to try to write one. As you can see the form consists of  3-line stanzas. It is a syllable counting form with lines of 10, 6 and 7 syllables respectively. That’s the easy bit!

The rhyme pattern requires end rhymes of AAA. However, (and this is where it gets complicated) the end rhyme of the first line isn’t actually at the end; it can be one, two or three syllables in from the end and the sound of the syllables after the rhyming word are echoed at the beginning of the following line.

You will see I have cheated a bit here, my echoes are not exact, making use of near rhymes and slant rhymes – green stems/extend (Stanza 1),  returns/and warms (stanza 3) and missing out one element in stanza 2 – and bold/gold.

Roadside Daffodils

Roadside daffodils
deliberately snapped and scattered.
I gather them, fill my vases, so I at least
can enjoy their fleeting beauty.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
We have some wonderful grassy areas on the corner of our road, in front of our house. At the moment these are full of daffodils. But some low-life yobs seem to take great pleasure in breaking off the flower heads, some just buds, and scattering them. I can’t bear to see them lying on the ground unable to fulfil their potential so I pick them up and put them in vases. Fortunately there are still plenty growing, but everyday more have been scattered.

March Chills

Defiantly facing March chills,
like women gathering
in bright Spring bonnets
nodding and smiling;
daffodils.

Lowlife

Some mindless lowlife seemed to think it fun
to strip the budding daffodils from
the grassed corner of the road, every last stem,
and scatter them across the grass to die,
depriving passers-by of springtime joy.
I salvaged what I could and now
they stand in joyful golden glory
in a blue vase in my living room.

Rescued

A jar of rescued daffodils
collected from the roadside,
bent, battered and broken stemmed,
ravaged by wind and rain,
now cheerfully revived.

Triumph

Drab winter slowly yields.
Snowdrops fade, crocus come and go,
all around new growth erupts
and over all the daffodil
trumpets in triumph.

Bluebells

The daffodils are fading now,
their trumpeting less clear.
A haze of bluebells nod their heads
to ring a peal so sweet and pure
that only faery folk can hear.

Fanfare

Blow your fanfare, golden trumpets,
heralds of the sun,
awake the earth from winter slumber,
Springtime has begun.

Ladies in Waiting

Ladies in waiting,
cloaked in green against the cold.
Soon Spring warmth will coax them
to cast aside their hoods and turn
bright smiles to face the sun;
daffodils.

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