transformation

Transformation — An Ovillejo Poem

Robert Lee Brewer is an editor for Writer’s Digest, and hosts their poetry blog Poetic Asides. He provides weekly prompts, facilitates two Poem-A-Day (PAD) challenges each year (in April, for National Poetry Writing Month; and November, for a chapbook challenge that coincides with National Novel Writing Month), and throughout the year he introduces new poetry forms and often hosts a challenge for those new forms. The April and November PAD challenges, and the form challenges, result in a winner (or winners) being chosen.

In June this year, we were introduced to the Ovillejo form, and the subsequent challenge. Robert’s explanation of the form is here: OVILLEJO.

Today, August 1, Robert posted his selections for the top 10 Ovillejo poems. And for the second time in three months, my name was on the list! (See the list of winners here.) I had submitted five Ovillejo poems, and here is the one that placed in the top 10:

.

TRANSFORMATION

We’re in desperate need of more grace
in this place.

Have we been reduced to primates,
filled with hate?

Guidance can come from God, above;
He is love.

In the end, when push comes to shove,
we’re family to each other:
sister, brother, father, mother.
In this place filled with hate, He is love.

Transformation

.

TRANSFORMATION

We’re in desperate need of more grace
in this place.

Have we been reduced to primates,
filled with hate?

Guidance can come from God, above;
He is love.

In the end, when push comes to shove,
we’re family to each other:
sister, brother, father, mother.
In this place filled with hate, He is love.

2016-06-08
P. Wanken

Shared at Poetic Asides for the Ovillejo form.

 

Emergence

EMERGENCE

alone in her studio –
immaculate, austere,
as empty as she –
her emotions, brittle,
and her heart as flinty
as the slab of stone
beneath her hands,
she knows she’s been away
for too long

not knowing what waits
inside the stone cocoon,
through the night —
with chisel and mallet —
she chips and scrapes
the rough edges
like barnacles from a keel;
chalky dust
drifts to the floor

drenched
in morning’s first light,
that which was stone
has been transformed;
through a blur of tears
she sees what no tongue
can fully describe:
the burnished glow
of a new creation

2012-05-28
P. Wanken

Inspired by the words from The Sunday Whirl Prompt #58: scrape, tongue, brittle, austere, barnacles, drenched, chalk, flinty, blur, burnished, cocoon, and rough.

True Colors (a haibun)

TRUE COLORS

The autumn skies bring earth’s tears of relief for some, grief for others. Trees once patient and long-suffering have succumbed to the drought. They stand, out of place in their changing colors. A long, hot summer has taken its toll. Others, more resilient, more firmly rooted, are washed anew and drink in that which will help sustain them further.

red, orange, brown, green ~
one’s true colors can be seen
as the seasons change

2011-10-11
P. Wanken

Written in response to Margo Roby’s “Tuesday Tryouts” prompt to write a Haibun. This is a poetry form that (in a nutshell) combines prose poetry with a haiku. She gives an excellent teaching on the topic on her blog — go there for the full details.