A year's worth of poems, every week for 52 weeks, spanning 2023 and 2024, plus the year following, from August 2024 to August 2025.(provided I live that long, of course).
Thank you, Allan Charles. I've contested the Charlie Chaplin thing a couple of times, won once, if I remember correctly. But it's the kind of thing I try when bored and have nothing better to do - just doesn't seem to have happened lately.
Seasons turn with the winding earth,
our need for order dividing
one from another, the same round,
just as all things grow from their birth,
upward with spring’s bright rush riding,
till summer’s fulfillment is found.
And so into autumn’s harvest,
like fruit from the branch we tumble,
still warm from the westering sun,
as earth turns now to its darkest,
agèd and frail we must stumble,
with ancestral dust become one.
Line count: 12
Form: Zenith - Any number of sixains. (Your poem must have two = 12 lines.), 8-syllable lines. rhyme scheme: a-b-c-a-b-c d-e-f-d-e-f.
For Promptly Poetry Challenge, Week 20 2024
Prompt: Zenith form.
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