Loop Poem

In Autumn (Two Drafts)

This is a loop poem, in which the last word of a line begins the next line. This first draft seemed bland to me, so I revised it by adding details and being looser with the rules for loop poems. I feel the looping can create unnecessary repetition and restrict exploration unless I can loosen up and stretch the boundaries of the form. What do you think?

Draft 1

Autumn is the lesson of leaves
leaves cling to branches in storms
storms batter the stronghold of trees
trees stand with grand resolve
resolve to hold their ground
ground captures falling leaves
leaves take to earth like sawdust
sawdust of fallen trees in sun
sun, the ancient watcher of autumn.

Draft 2

Autumn is the lesson of dying leaves.

Leaves, once lush from summer rain, cling to branches for life in storms.

Midday thunder storms batter the stronghold of bristling trees.

Aged trees, their arms flailing, stand with grand resolve,

a resolve to hold their place on eroded ground.

The wasted ground complies to capture the fallen.

Fallen leaves take to earth like the sand of ocher sawdust.

The ocher sawdust of shedding trees lies parched in low sun.

The sun, the ancient watcher of late autumn.

 

poem and image: ©Barbara Harris Leonhard, extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Loop Poem

In Autumn (Two Drafts)

This is a loop poem, in which the last word of a line begins the next line. This first draft seemed bland to me, so I revised it by adding details and being looser with the rules for loop poems. I feel the looping can create unnecessary repetition and restrict exploration unless I can loosen up and stretch the boundaries of the form.

Draft 1

Autumn is the lesson of leaves
leaves cling to branches in storms
storms batter the stronghold of trees
trees stand with grand resolve
resolve to hold their ground
ground captures falling leaves
leaves take to earth like sawdust
sawdust of fallen trees in sun
sun, the ancient watcher of autumn.

Draft 2

Autumn is the lesson of dying leaves.

Leaves, once lush from summer rain, cling to branches for life in storms.

Midday thunder storms batter the stronghold of bristling trees.

Aged trees, their arms flailing, stand with grand resolve,

a resolve to hold their place on eroded ground.

The wasted ground complies to capture the fallen.

Fallen leaves take to earth like the sand of ocher sawdust.

The ocher sawdust of shedding trees lies parched in low sun.

The sun, the ancient watcher of late autumn.

 

poem and image: ©Barbara Harris Leonhard, extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Audio · Poem · Poetry

Back to a Sleep with Oneness

Rain embracing succulent earth,

Feeding her star seeds

Planted by moonlight fingers

Extending to meadows and hatchlings

Crying for their banquet.

Gardens bursting with harvest

Springing from tender sprouts

And forest saplings.

Clouds lifting mists

Delivered to the sun

Back to a sleep with oneness

Until a new day.

 

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Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/500251471082079922/