copper burns across an endless sky
competing caws claim salt, surf and sand
sailing high above slowly sagging carcasses
long forgotten at the edge of the world
buckled rails swim over a shimmering shingle sea
the largest of its kind, hinting at some other time;
engines once chugged to billingsgate from this beach
herring bound for the cinque ports
and they say women dragged each boat -
pulled them down to that shore’s faithless embrace;
the muttered prayers of mothers and daughters
casting their men out on fortune’s dark waters
now nets, set for a tide that came and went, lay
mouldering among those collapsing clinkers
as if the fisherfolk just left one night, fled
granting the gulls sole control of that desolate dominion
their toil and trade, the legacy of our fathers’ fathers
still lays there on that beach; haunts that huge cove
rich history, like in so many places, fading away
rotting, rusting, ruined
Marquise
Cinque linking
Amaranth medallion
Allows a diamond star to form
Immaculate teeth, glace cherry smirk
Swinging on invisible link
Sheriff starlight centre
Spikes squeezed between
Marquise
14th July 2022
Written for Contest; Radical Rictameter
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
Red blood was shed as their land was taken
Red graves lie unmarked behind shuttered schools
Treaties flouted through Parliament's rules
With redskins confined to reservation
Red songs unsung and red tongues forgotten
Tear off the scab of self denial
Beneath the skin all our blood is red
Together mourn unforgotten dead
Canada's past is now on trial
Time to reright the Indian File.
______________________________________________________________
It's Canada Day here tomorrow but like many I find myself dwelling on the darker aspects of our history.
Form - Sonnetina Cinque http://thepoetsgarret.com/2010Challenge/form7.html
Ginger and I first met at a horse auction,
she was described as a strawberry roan
a gentle nature with a three-legged gait,
creating a bumpy ride because of this trait.
I learned to ride with Ginger hours at a time,
we were in cinque with leg commands,
she was not a fast quarter horse,
what a relief as she plodded the course.
Many years and miles passed along,
I remember my first horse with pride,
she was Ginger with an even soul,
who taught me to ride on the whole.
We found a shady spot to sit
And gaze out at the sea
Or people watch on Monterosso,
Here in Italy.
We sailed to Cinque Terre,
Five small towns along the coast
Which hug the mountains charmingly
And hordes of tourists host.
We strolled the streets and alleyways,
Gelato for my lunch -
Both hazelnut and amarena
(Cherry is my hunch).
The sun was strong but soon we found
A copse of flow'ring trees
And settled in to soak the scene up,
Grateful for the breeze.
We met some locals and, as well,
New Zealanders on tour.
The sea, gelato, conversation -
Who could ask for more?
Cinque Terre
by Edmund Siejka
We were in the Italian Rivera
A once in a lifetime trip
Hiking along the remote cliffs of Cinque Terre
Along narrow rock strewn paths
Barely wide enough
For goats.
We continued
Clinging to the cliffs of the coastline
Crossing over flimsy wooden bridges
Past vineyards
Olive groves
And lemon orchards.
Falls were common
I remembered
Simple rules of the trail
Look downward
Not up
Know where you are going
Make sure you can get back safely
Carefully we continued
Weighing every slippery rock
And stone
Before taking the next step.
When our guide stopped
I rested
In front of me
Splashed across
A deep blue horizon
Was the Mediterranean
Ancient as Homer’s Helen
And now a scene of tranquil emptiness.
We started again
Shifting our weight
Walking on our heels
Following the steep
Downward slope
Ending hours later
I was exhausted
Glad that it was over.
My sides ached
Every breath
A struggle
Forcing me to wonder
If I would ever cross this way again.
Waves crash down each day by day
As fishing boats dare make their way
The village square, by dawn, now quiet
as endless waves, with rocks, play riot
Then hustle and bustle, taunting streets
With men and boys from fishing fleets
Children scamper, scurrying, scream
While women weighing fish they clean
When midday sun offers no retreat
And cobblestones lie hushed with heat
Siesta silence creeps into town
Except where waves come crashing down
Dry and sun scorched cliffs.
The vast ocean lies below.
Sweat drips from my brow.
Putting words into verses
Verses into rhymes
Getting into your minds
Each and every time
The reality of the world
The news we all see
Knowing at any moment
It could be you or me
Listening to people talk
About all kinds of things
Hearing good stories and bad ones
And some funny ones in between
Being frustrated about situations
Wondering what’s going to happen next
Not understanding some outcomes
Some things leaving you perplexed
So with words I express
The stories I hear
Some from far away
Some very close and dear
Thoughts running in my head
Words scrambling in my mind
Searching for the next title
Looking for the next sign
Getting stumped
Writers block
Trying to keep it going
Trying to stay on top
Okay, okay I got it now
Life is a poem – as well as society
So I present to you my new book
Poetic Reality
Thank you Cinque (my brother) for forcing me to write this poem since it’s the title
of one of my books! Good Looking (love ya, miss ya)
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.