Tried my hand at trimeter last night. Phew! That is really not a game for beginners! My respect for those who excel in this meter is tripled. Free Verse might be playing tennis with the net down. Trimeter is like playing tennis where the net is replaced with a solid wall with 10 small holes in it. In dimeter, I wager, 9 of the holes have been taken away. None the less, or maybe
because of this ... I am interested in the challenge. As president Kennedy said about choosing to go to the moon.
Anyway, my first attempt. From the ashes of this one will bloom the successes of tomorrow. I hope.
The miracle
An ordinary death
was about to become mine.
I prayed for a miracle
-a command by divine breath-
a sig to appear i my shrine.
Confined to my own skull
I sagely asked and returned
the obvious Q&A's.
The miracle? More days!
No horn of plenty, walking
on water, learning to fly.
So many years burned,
waiting for and talking
about miracles, but I
discovered far too late:
The miracle is the life
we're given and create.
I prayed for one more chance
to appreciate that which I got,
and promised not to squander
life again. I ponder
as I wait for that chance: Just what
am I doing now, perchance,
with the little I have left?
Compare this to original story idea: End of life. Discovering that the biggest miracle of all is life itself; no miracle can be the miracle of life. Yet, "I" have spent all of life looking for other miracles. Now "I" pray for a miracle of pro-longing life. Waits for the miracle, and - forgets to focus on the life "I" still has left, thus squandering even it. Even my poor rhyming has dragged me around.
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Svein Olav (The poet formerly known as
Solan )
[This message has been edited by Svein Olav Nyberg (edited April 07, 2005).]