Friday 10 April 2009

NaPoWriMo #10 Love

NaPoWriMo #10 -find a passage of text, preferably from an out-of-print book, and turn it into a poem. This process is appropriately called a found poem. The Academy of American Poets has a great article about the history of the found poem, with links to examples by TS Eliot and Charles Reznikoff.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
*LOVE

My soul had a thousand doubts,
Before life'd begun
Love increased a thousand times
When three became one.

My joy has a thousand stars,
All eyes they shone.
My heart began to blossom
My arrival sung.

My world has a thousand stars,
Day’s horizon one
They remain in my mind’s eye
When the night was done.

When a thousand days remained
Never thought of one
Shadows began to cloud o’er
The battle not won.

Your love has a thousand hearts,
Your body but one.
Love remained within my heart
When your day was done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This poem is based on my family and my parents. I was adopted into a home with love.
My found poem was too dark, and hopeless. I have found hope in the cycle of life and love.

My prompt:

LOVE

The night has a thousand eyes,
And the day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is done.

--F. W. Bourdillon

As found in The Ontario Readers; Second Book, T. Eaton Co., 1909
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

7 comments:

Lori said...

This is a BEAUTIFUL tribute to your parents. I wish I could hear a reading of it though. I bet that would just be AMAZING LOL. NICE JOB!

http://lori102870.blogspot.com/2009/04/stitch-in-timenapowrimo-10by-me.html

Lori said...

Hmmm....I wonder if my comment got lost :o(.

Wayne Pitchko said...

I really like what you have done with this..nice read indeed..keep up the good writing

sam said...

Hello again, Jenn! I see you really have been writing many poems! I really love Love - your use of the word "thousand" is very appropriate. And Paradise is really lovely too. :)

gautami tripathy said...

Without hope, can we really survive?

This speaks to me..

A man, his fiddle and crows

susan said...

Very nice. Reminds me of a Paul Laurence Dunbar poem.

judy in ky said...

Happy Easter Jenn.