This January morning is frost-crisp,
wisps of cloud streak the sky,
my boots scrape and tinkle
gravel where the field rumples,
crumples like a fresh white cover
over storm-tossed limbs, frozen furrows,
hedgerows, overgrown and winter-scented.
Tormented by tingling fingers and toes,
nose numb and coat buttons come
undone, I greet the early magpie,
high in the trees, with veneration:
generations-old spell to bind the sorrow.
Kim M. Russell, 2018
Marian is our host this weekend and she has brought us another form challenge; we’re revisiting chained rhyme, a poem in which the last syllable or word of each line is followed by a rhyme on the first word or syllable of the next line.
Marian says it’s not really fussy or little because the poem can be anything you want–long lines or short, many lines or just a few, strict meter or no meter, whatever you like.
I have written a kind of found poem, in which I’ve played with words and phrases from a newspaper article and woven them into my own chained rhyme.