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The second of my collections of poems written for "Express It In Eight." |
| As usual these days, I choose blog format because it offers more space for the work. |
| Curlew There’s a reason they talk of the curlew’s call in broad flat sea marshes in the mists of dawn where the cold lingers in muddy backwaters and the soul can be alone as never before. It’s a sound that speaks of vast emptiness that wraps us in the fog of separation from kin and calls forth a spectre of bleak nostalgia so much more than Hepburn’s “The loons, the loons.” Line count: 8 Free verse For Express It In Eight, 03.23.24 Prompt: Choose a word or two from one of the three poems and write a poem around it. I chose the word “curlew” from Longfellow’s The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls. |
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