Friday, November 19, 2010

Poetry Friday: A Little Rhyme

Sometimes these tiny things just write themselves.


Gray hills, gray sky, gray rain
Stippling the river.
Gray gray gray again,
Gray gray gray forever.

November feels this way:
Drearily unshriven,
Ten miles from Christmas Day,
A hundred miles from heaven.

Too bad it's not quite cheery enough for a Christmas card. 

I suppose I should quit trying not to rhyme, because even when I don't, finding a rhyme is generally what focuses and finishes the poem.

Many thanks to Diane at Random Noodling for hosting this week's Poetry Friday gathering. And I vow to do a better job of making the rounds to read and comment on everyone else's poems. Somehow the time always seems to slip away, especially once the kids get up, but I have appreciated the visits from other PF folks no end, and I don't mean not to reciprocate.


Karen E. said...

It's lovely, Sally. And I know what you mean about the time to comment slipping away. I can only grab bits and pieces of Poetry Friday here and there, but even that's worthwhile.

Toby Speed said...

I love your poem, Sally. It feels so genuine and unforced. Thank you.

I find it often takes me a week or two to catch up on the PF posts, so I can relate to your comment. Enjoy your weekend.

Sally Thomas said...

Thanks, Karen and Toby. Toby, pat that pretty kitty for me -- I miss having a cat in my life!

Andromeda Jazmon said...

Oh dear, I am trying to avoid the drearies today. At least we have the beauty of the rain stippling the river... hanging onto that. And crying out to heaven over here.

Thanks for posting!

Tabatha said...

Made me laugh with your comment about it being not quite right for a Christmas card, Sally!

Thanks for sharing this.

Patrick Allen said...

Very fine - I also like the "gray rain stippling the river, which immediately makes me think of Hopkins' "trout that swim" with their "rose-moles all in stipple."

Sally Thomas said...

Thank you all again.

Yes, "stippling" is a great word, and I thank Fr. Hopkins for imprinting it on my mind in the tenth grade.

And yes, I must must must work on something less gloomy for Christmas cards . . . or else just not send them, again.