Like one drawn to cigarettes;
sauntering down lane,
am I to kiss, deepening
eyes -so full– of rain.
This winter of mud,
who knows what the hours will bring?
I’ve slept amongst buds.
Lilacs false know not hue, love
I will say it loud;
sideways in pall of black smoke
in this lonely crowd.
Of all the seasons,
Spring pushes forth at first chance;
look for life’s meaning.
Photo credits: “Priceless,” limited edition artwork by Richard Blunt, Pinterest.
Grace hosts at dVerse and invites us to try a new poetic form
known as “Seguidilla.” Come join us! 💝
Posted for Poetry Form, “Seguidilla” @ dVerse Poets Pub
This winter of mud… what a devastating statement… but from mud grows the finest plants I think… spring is wonderful when it comes.
Thank you so much, Bjorn 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
I am familiar with winters of mud, Sanaa, we get them a lot, but sleeping amongst buds sounds wonderful.
Thank you so much, my dearest Kim 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
I love that winter of mud, changing to lilacs and hint of spring, in the second septet.
The change of thought or volta is wonderful, specially : of all the seasons. Wonderful crisp thoughts in a lovely form!
Thank you so much, Grace 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
(and thank you for the glorious prompt) 🌹
I love how you’ve kept your own distinctive poetic voice alive in the form, Sanaa: it really works well.
‘This winter of mud,
who knows, what the hours will bring?
I’ve slept amongst buds.’
Just lovely, lovely!
Awww gosh! Thank you so much, Ingrid 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
Thank goodness “Spring pushes forth at first chance.”
❤️❤️❤️
I’ve been reading of the mudslides in the canyons in California that were affected by the forest fires. Your “winter of mud” is timely!
Thank you so much, Beverly 🙂 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
We’re headed into Mud Season up here at present. Between all these back road mudbogs, the nascent but rapidly expanding pot holes (some resembling roadlakes) and waiting for Covid Needle #2, there is STRONG disincentivization to venture anywhere. I’m just going to stay home and read some outstanding poetry…like YOURS, Sanaa!
Thank you so much, Ron 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
“This winter of mud” really stuck with me too. I can take winters of cold, white snow and dark. Winter with just dark and mud would be soul crushing.
The last three lines are inspired Saana. Spring really do push forth at first chance, weather or not it’s a fools spring or not.
Thank you so much, RedCat 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
Spring feel like some kind of divine epiphany here after a winter of mud. Enjoyed this! ❤❤❤
Thank you so much, Tricia 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
Sanaa, I really, really loved the contrast between cigarettes and buds, and the word buds also conjured the word ‘butts’ to my mind, as in – cigarette butts.
Great, great writing.
Yours,
David
Thank you so much, David 😀 so good to see you 💄❤️
“look for life’s meaning.”
I like how the last two lines of the second stanza,
connect back to the last line of the first stanza.
Thank you so much, Tzvi 🙂 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
Oh my! Your style is simply YOU … beautiful, expressive, sensuous ~ sigh.
Thank you so much, Helen 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
Lovely!
Thank you so much, Imelda 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
So full of contrasts, but hopeful at the end.
The winter of mud, but
“Spring pushes forth at first chance;
look for life’s meaning.”
Thank you so much, Merril 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
Oh the mud and the lilac. Wonderful contrasts and as ever so elegantly written. You show what can be done with this form.
Thank you so much, Georgina 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️